What a full week this one has been! This morning before I jump back in to tackle my writing deadline, I pause a moment to think of the incredible gift my friend gave me yesterday. She is an extremely busy lady, yet she called me early yesterday morning, before starting her day, and offered her editing expertise to help me polish a very important chapter in my upcoming book. She took her valuable time to coach me on incorporating techniques that I never would have thought of. All of this she offers, not for money, but from her heart, just to be of help. What an incredible lady!
What I have learned these past few months is that it takes a team to write a book. One person has their name at the bottom of the book as the author, but, oh my goodness, there should be hundreds of names listed. Come to think of it, what task is there that gets completed by one person alone? There is always someone, somewhere to lend a hand.
This morning I am reflecting on a fond personal memory that occurred when I was about 5 or 6. I was “mushroom hunting” with my dad. My dad was a man of few words. He was a strong, hard worker and he towered over me. I knew he cared about me, but he never told me so, nor did he ever touch me. We came out of a woods and up to a fence that we had to climb over. The top row consisted of barbed wire. I looked at the fence with panic, trying to figure out how I would ever get over it. Suddenly he reached down, picked me up, and lifted me over the fence. I can still feel what that felt like, to be held high up in the air in his strong arms.
My editor friend and my dad are my teachers. What comes to me this morning is to follow their example, pay it forward, and touch someone else’s life. I am reminded of the beautiful words in the following poem by Perry Tanksley…
Your Life Touched Mine
Something very special
Which I cannot define,
Happened to me one day,
When your life touched mine.
The touching of our lives,
Especially your touching me,
Made me a better person,
Never the same to be.
Sweet memories of that day
Now cling without my clutching,
Because our paths still cross
And our souls are touching.
Who can we reach out and touch today? Who can we lift over the fence?
