Danielle Hines's Blog

I wrote this piece of fiction back in 2018, and I can see a little of each of our three kids in the character of Bree. Blended families can be very complex, and I wouldn’t trade ours for anything.

She always eyed her surroundings with a certain level of suspicion when she arrived at our door. It took her a good two hours to shake off the old thoughts and come to the present. I took her sweater and kissed her head—she was still an inch shorter than me, but I was fully aware this would not last.

“Where’s my dad?” she asked, not saying hi or meeting my eyes.

“He’s watering the garden, sweetheart.”

Bree was, at fourteen years old, a complete perfection: unpredictable, funny, beautiful, moody, intelligent, the best storyteller and a marvel to simply watch. Of all our kids, and we had five between us, she was the toughest nut to crack. She showed only a small percentage of her self . Her inner world was where she spent most of her time. Her father and I were privy to it so rarely. But when we were, we savoured every moment.

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She hesitated, unsure if she wanted to see him just yet.

I walked to the kitchen and called to her: “Your room is ready for you, honey. Your bed is made and your clothes are clean.” I knew she needed time. Her brother and sister rarely came anymore. They were both away at college, building their own lives. Bree resented being the only one who had to come, to the point where she now opted out of numerous visits. We had seen it coming, anticipated and dreaded it. But knowing that parenting is a long game was key. She would come around, in her way, in her own time.

Being the youngest meant her memories were heavily influenced by her siblings, both biological and otherwise. She was often minimized: “No! That’s not how it happened. You’re remembering it wrong. You were too young.” But now, here she was, the baby, but not a baby anymore. The house was hers to command, with only my sixteen-year-old daughter still at home. Bree was cautious but curious.

Being so like her father had been hard. It meant they butt heads and misunderstood one another constantly. I was a buffer of sorts, and while they each appreciated it, I think, they were also annoyed by it. “It should be easier than this,” I had heard them each say at various times. And sometimes, in my insecurity, I agreed with them. Sometimes I felt like we were all beating a dead horse. But then, by the grace of God, something would shift so I could see how scared we all were-—how hard it could be to live together only part of the time.

Her father tethered himself to her as his youngest, his last vestige of hope in getting it right. She was full of potential but wanted next to none of his influence. In her teenage mind, she was already grown up, already right and no longer in need of him. Period. At least, this is how she acted. Her eyes, though—her eyes would often betray her. They carried in them an open space willing to give him a chance.

She was still standing in the hallway when I brought her a glass of water. Taking it, she walked over and plopped herself on the couch, set the glass down beside her and took out her phone. “What’s for dinner?” she asked.

And with that simple question, I knew she was OK. For the next few days, she was home.

I smiled. “Steak and Caesar salad.”

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Photo by Kinga Cichewicz on Unsplash

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Perhaps a mother is blessed both with blindness and hypervigilance when it comes to her children,

but I know whom I birthed.

You are a descendant of Viking women—warriors angry and proud, steadfast and true.

You are blessed with the easy, good humour of your father’s family and the keen intelligence of mine.

Your heart, unable to bear injustice of any kind, is your best bet for an inner guide.

Never quell your voice, baby girl.

Let it love and rage and call out the liars.

You are a truth-teller meant to protect the innocent, a fierce defender of good.

Most people will not be able to keep up with you.

Hold tight to those who can—

and love, love, love.

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Don't go on vibes alone, my friend. We all need a helping hand.

Trust me, I know that writing a memoir is an intensely personal journey. It's translating your life’s experiences into something meaningful, relatable, and transcendent. Your memoir is more than just recounting events—it’s about finding the emotional truth, organizing chaotic memories into a compelling narrative, and crafting a story that pulls a reader in. While it can be tempting to tackle this endeavor solo, the guidance of a writing coach can be transformative, ensuring your memoir reaches its full potential. Here’s why having a writing coach is invaluable when writing your memoir.

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Objectivity and Perspective

When writing about your life, you relive it, and becoming too close to the material can be easy. I see it over and over. Certain events may feel significant to you but may not necessarily resonate with readers. A writing coach provides the objective perspective to identify which parts of your story are most impactful and which may need trimming or reworking. They help you strike a balance between personal catharsis and storytelling, ensuring your memoir speaks not just to you but to your intended audience.

Narrative Structure and Flow

A memoir is not a diary or a chronological recounting of events—it’s a crafted narrative with a beginning, middle, and end. Writing coaches are skilled at helping authors shape their stories into coherent and engaging arcs. They guide you in weaving together themes, identifying turning points, and maintaining a consistent tone and voice. With their help, your memoir becomes more than a collection of anecdotes; it becomes a story with purpose and meaning.

Emotional Support and Accountability

I see it time and time again. And, frankly, I lived it while devoting my craft to my blog for ten years. Writing about your life, especially the challenging parts, is emotionally taxing. A writing coach serves as both a cheerleader and a steadying force, helping you work through the emotional highs and lows of the process. They also provide accountability, ensuring you stay on track with your writing goals. Deadlines and check-ins with your coach can help you maintain momentum, even when self-doubt or writer’s block creeps in.

Crafting a Universal Message

While your memoir is about your personal experiences, its ultimate success lies in its ability to connect with readers on a universal level. A writing coach helps you identify and articulate the themes in your story that will resonate broadly—whether it’s resilience, love, identity, or transformation. They allow you to focus on the "why" behind your story, ensuring it holds meaning for others while staying authentic to your voice. It's gotta sound like you. Otherwise, the reader will know something is awry, and you won't be happy.

Polishing and Refinement

Even the most heartfelt story needs polish to shine. A writing coach assists with everything from language refinement to pacing, ensuring your prose is clear, engaging, and professional. They also help you avoid common pitfalls like overexplaining, redundancy, or inconsistency in tone. The result is a manuscript that is not only personal but also polished and publish-ready.

Navigating the Publishing Process

Many writing coaches, like myself, are experienced in the publishing world and can guide you through the next steps once your memoir is complete. Whether you’re considering self-publishing or submitting to agents and publishers, a coach can provide insights on query letters, proposals, and marketing strategies, giving your memoir the best chance for success. This part of the process is tricky, and a helping hand provides unparalleled relief!

Remember, writing a memoir is both a creative and emotional undertaking. A writing coach acts as a guide, mentor, and collaborator, helping you navigate the complexities of storytelling while staying true to your voice. With their support, you can transmute your life’s experiences into something tangible, inspirational, and transformative—for you and your readers.

I can help.

If you're ready to get started, email me: authordaniellehines[at]gmail.com.

Helplessness is an awful feeling, as if we are at the mercy of something big and scary, with nowhere to turn.

For today, may I humbly suggest writing out that anger, sadness, rage and helplessness. Here’s why:

Setting your mind to express the exact feelings you’re feeling can begin the act of processing. You can give a meaningful voice to what seems like a destructive energy.

Uncensored writing can turn into a process of recognizing the feeling, naming it, acknowledging it, and letting it go. You don’t have to stay in discomfort for too long. Instead, let the page hold your rage.

Like dancing while no one’s watching, writing words that no one but you will read allows you to express all the darkness without fear or shame. It’s just you, the pen and the paper.

Shining a light on the monsters under your bed by describing them on the page is a way to make them less scary, threatening, or evil.

Writing without editing out your rage can highlight what’s happening beneath the surface and help you move from “You did this to me!” to “I feel hurt that this happened.”

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Photo by Carolina Basi

From about 2011 until 2022, I blogged regularly—often twice weekly—to unearth difficult feelings and begin to process them. I cannot stress enough how necessary this process was for me. I had spent the first 30 years of my life as most of us do: fairly unconscious, trying to figure out who I was through the lens of how other people saw me, in a kind of survival mode, and unaware of what made me happy.

It wasn't good for me.

But I didn't know this in the beginning. All I knew was that everything in my life was shifting without my permission (ha!), and I was emotionally and physically devastated. Navigating single motherhood and healing a long-held eating disorder was a-fucking-lot, and the only way I could make sense of all the turmoil within was to WRITE. IT. DOWN.

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Here's an excerpt from an early post:

In one moment, all seemed lost. I took the opinion of one person and ran with it. My mind took me through the depths of the worst-case scenario. It helped me set up camp there, and panic, I stayed there and allowed the pain and worry to wind its way through me. I pictured myself in this new life, this new version of myself. It ached. I felt my joy ripped from me and allowed my head to rest in my hands. And there, in that moment of despair, a light flickered. I glimpsed it. I recognized the hope and the promise in it. I breathed.

And rubbing my tear-filled eyes, a thought occurred to me: This is not what I want to run toward.  I may not always call the shots, but I get to decide where they land.  In short, I am the one who lends significance to the events in my life.

I am not a victim. I am a compassionate interpreter. I decide what I learn from. I choose what to forgive, and I am learning now that I am meant to forgive it all.

I choose to intend a life of love and joy. This does not mean there will not be pain, but it does mean that I need not suffer.

I think I'll rest here.

Power and freedom are right here and now.

I can sense the newness, the getting-unstuckness in the words of this former version of myself. It's a weird, nostalgic thing to witness how far I've come without judging where I was. Writing, no matter how shitty or beautiful or in between, was the thing that helped me know myself. It was the thing that helped me get honest, seek therapy, and heal my relationship with myself and others.

And now, I help others do the same.

Whether in groups or individually, one of my favourite things to do is guide people through the process of unearthing long-ignored feelings and turning them into new and treasured prose. Which brings me to...

Two Ways to Work with Me

One-on-One Writing Coaching Sessions

For the first time in over a year, I'll be taking on new Writing clients through February. These sessions will be over Zoom and tailored to each writer's needs, goals, and aspirations.

Here are a few testimonials from clients:

"Working with Danielle has been nothing short of the privilege of a lifetime. She has been an absolute godsend in my world.
Danielle is trauma-informed in her approach, brilliantly sensitive, and I am convinced was made to do the work she is doing." ~ S. D.

"A sheer joy to work with!" ~ M.P.

"I am overwhelmed with gratitude for Danielle's insights, which clearly came from a place of compassion and empathy." ~ L.G.

Sessions will include reviewing up to 3000 words and providing constructive feedback to boost confidence, teaching outlining techniques for clearer structure, and keeping you accountable with realistic goals. And if you simply need a guiding hand to guide you through the difficult emotions as I did, I'm here to help with that, too.*

Duration: 1 hour

Cost: $125

Contact Me Here

2.  Three-Question Tarot Reading

Unlock clarity with a personalized three-question tarot reading by me, Danielle! Whether you seek guidance in love, career, or life’s crossroads, my compassionate, intuitive approach provides insights tailored just for you.Ask three questions that have been on your mind, and receive thoughtful, uplifting answers to bring direction and peace. With 13 years of experience, my readings are crafted to reveal hidden truths and empower you to make confident decisions. Perfect for first-time or seasoned tarot enthusiasts.

Cost is $75.

Email me at authordaniellehines@gmail.com with your Three Questions and to set up payment. You will receive a reading within 48 hours.

*Note: Sessions with Danielle are not meant to replace therapy or treatment with a mental health professional.

I have this innate desire to heal so that others can heal. Now, does it get muddled with ego concerns and intentions? Yes. I try my best to be aware of this as much as possible and make mental health, healing, and remembering who I really am a priority.

The other day, I found myself trying to explain to someone how to feel their feelings. It sounds a bit silly. And Lord knows, until a few years ago, I thought I was an expert at feeling. I mean, I cried all the time. I would constantly reach out to friends for emotional validation and would write my heart out.

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The thing is, those are part of the process-—sure. But only part. And I've found that when I really, truly feel my feelings, I rarely need the external validation after all. And for me, that is fucking everything.

I can only come at this from my limited experience and from what I've observed with friends and clients—most of us avoid actual feeling like the plague. There's a good reason for that. When our brains sense pain, we are hard-wired to avoid it. And there are plenty of ways to do that in this modern world of instant pleasure. Sex, shopping, booze, weed, drugs... it's all at our fingertips.

May I suggest hugging your sweet self right now? Because none of it can make that niggling emptiness at the seat of our guts go away.

If you're human, chances are you had some negative experiences of some form in your childhood or early life. You most likely picked up some dysfunctional programming or adopted some questionable coping mechanisms, and these are now affecting your relationships in ways that may be hard to own. What I've learned is that until I was willing to confront those old wounds, I'd remain stuck in the same negative pattern, blaming the same types of people and never being able to move forward fully.

So, when I get triggered, I sit with it. Now, you can't always do this in the moment, so just do it when you can. When triggered, start by acknowledging: "Wow, I'm totally triggered right now." Then ask yourself what the feeling is and what triggered you. It might be that you felt unsafe, or you felt attacked, maybe trapped or controlled. Whatever comes to mind, use it. Invest your attentiveness in how you are feeling.

The next step is just to feel that feeling until it passes. Don't pick up your phone, don't distract. Just sit. This is suuuuperuncomfortable. I'm not going to pretend it's not. But if you can see this through, you'll often gain valuable insight. Often, there is a place in your body you can point to where the discomfort lives: your throat may feel tight, and you may have butterflies in your stomach. Moving your attention to your body can help take you out of your brain that just wants to send you down a rabbit hole of negativity.

Once you're able to see the trigger through, ask yourself when was the first time you remember feeling that way. Now, you may not get this on the first attempt. Your brain may be stubborn and tell you it's just this thing that happened just now. If that's the case, gently move on. But each time you're triggered, keep asking. Our wounds are often cast in childhood. And getting to the root is how we heal.

For instance, I received an email several months back where I felt scolded. The person's tone was authoritative and harsh. When I sat in how this made me feel, I was transported back to my third-grade teacher and an instance where she overheard me tell a friend that she was "strict." She was not pleased and proceeded to make me stand up in front of the class while she tore a strip off me.

With that identified, I was able to view the situation as an adult. This teacher was wildly insecure. I remember her bragging about her new car, new purses, etc, to us little ones. Goodness, anyone who has to shame a child like that in front of her peers needs a whole lotta love. So that is what I did. I imagined the situation again and surrounded my eight-year-old self with loads of love and compassion, and did the same for my teacher. With this new understanding, there was no need to revisit that feeling. And if there were, there would certainly be much less of a charge to it. In this situation, I absolutely deserved better, and here was an opportunity to give it.

If you're going to try this whole feeling your feelings thing, you have to have support. This is non-negotiable. You cannot go this alone. Whether it's a mental health professional, close friend, or spiritual advisor, have someone familiar with the workings of the human heart in your corner.

And if you're so inclined, talk to God. In my humble opinion, a higher power makes all the difference and can be included throughout this process. Let God (Universe, Holy Spirit, Buddha, etc.) hold your hand the entire way. Let Him take the pain on and have Him guide you to see what He would have you see. I truly feel like God (by any name) is the missing piece in our world.

And be gentle with yourself. Always gentle. Give yourself what you've deserved all along, LOVE.

I am still on my healing path, but I want to share what has worked in the hopes that it may work for someone else, too.

Photo by cottonbro studio.

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The snow blew gently sideways, the first of the season, and I considered, for a moment, turning my head and sticking out my tongue to catch a few flakes but decided against it. The air was cold but not bitingly so. My knit wool hat covered my ears and mildly itched my scalp as my matching mittens made my palms just a little bit sweaty. I was in tune with my discomfort.

Moments earlier, grief gripped me in the middle of my walk with one of my dearest friends in the world. I turned to look at her and was unsurprised to see her chin tipped up and mouth wide open, tasting the frozen sky. She walked in joy.

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It had been four months since another friend of mine had passed. He slipped from our lives with as much laughter as there were tears, but somehow, right now, that laughter was a distant rhythm too light for the heaviness of missing a man who had meant so much. His presence loomed about me, yet I could not reach for it. I could not turn to him just now.

I was walking the tightrope: On one side lay acceptance, and on the other, denial. He sat patiently, waiting for me to talk to him as I did in those first few weeks after his death. I felt him, but it hurt too much. It just hurt too much.

I lowered my head and observed the snow melting the instant it touched the ground. For a second, I wished I could disappear like that—just for an instant—not have to carry the weight of this world and its pain but fade into a blunt, unyielding numbness. Shaking my head at my penchant for melancholy, I almost smiled.

My friend had been watching me. "The snow is more beautiful in the sky, Danielle," she said gently. "Look up!"

I humored her.

She continued: "No flake appears alike, yet they are all the same because they all come from the same place. They don't even melt, really. I mean, they do, but they don't. They're always the same; they just appear in different forms. But I like snow the best."

"I like the rain," I uttered, stuffing my hands in my coat pocket.

"You miss the rain?" she asked, wiping strands of her black hair that had stuck to her lips.

My throat ached to tell her what or whom I missed, but instead, I just shook my head.

"It's so uncomfortable when things aren't the way we want them, isn't it?" she said, walking straight ahead, sticking out her tongue between sentences. "We yearn for what was, for when things were predictable, before storms, sicknesses, and sad goodbyes."

I turned to look at her in mild shock. Did she know how I was feeling?

"It's hard to accept things as they are. It means letting go of the hope of getting our old normal back. The normal wasn't perfect, but it was what we knew. And in it contained the people we loved as we remembered them. Holding onto all that may seem better for a while, but it's all pain."

I looked back down at the sidewalk. "Feeling this stuff makes me want to run home, hide under my covers, eat salsa straight from the jar, and cry myself to sleep."

She let a silence hang for a moment. "The only way through this is through. The pain will change. You'll wear it differently." She skipped ahead of me a few steps and shouted back. "Talk to him, Danielle!"

I held my jaw tight, feeling the fear. "I-I don't know if I can," I squeaked out. Grief was gripping my chest. Time would loosen its hold...time and willingness.

She did a pirouette and looked back at me. "You can," she said. And you will... when you're ready...and that's okay."

Her words whipped through the cold and landed with a gentle thud in my ears. She told me it was ok to feel exactly as I was feeling. I wasn't 'wrong'. My friend's acceptance flooded my veins and eased my heart. It eased my heart just enough to breathe in and out and watch the cloud of warm air escape my mouth and take a little hurt with it.

"Hide nothing," whispered something deep within. "Bring everything to your prayers. Hide nothing."

I took my hands out of my pockets and momentarily reached up to scratch the sky. Increasing my pace to catch up with my friend, I whispered to the presence at my side, "Your laugh always made me laugh."

With that, I came up beside my friend and smiled faintly. I still preferred the rain, but I could learn to enjoy the snow when it came.

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**originally written November 2016

A NEW Sweetwood Review ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️We got four stars from Reader's Favorite! Read the full review by clicking the image below. ⭐️

“Come with me," I say. “I've got enough love for the both of us.” She looks up at me, blinks, and then nods. It's a start.

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Sometimes, I have to go back to her. Sometimes, she needs my embrace. It's been a while since I've embodied her fully, but I remember. I remember the basketweave of anxiety that went on inside our heads. I remember the lies we told ourselves, and how the bad stuff was just easier to believe.

So I reach out to her because she is me. They're all me. And we need each other. She needs this latest version of us to show her the light existing just beyond that last hurtful thought. And I need her to remind me where I came from.  

“We will be just fine,” I say. “It gets better.” And she wants to believe me. After all, as it says in A Course in Miracles, “Angels light the way so that all darkness vanishes, and you are standing in a light so bright and clear that you can understand all things you see.” (ACIM, W-131.13:2) And who doesn’t want this kind of clarity? Who doesn’t want to be held and hushed and loved in this way?

It’s okay to admit we get lost sometimes. It’s alright to acknowledge out loud that we need help. A turn inward is a divine call for assistance. And we do need help. One could argue it’s this whole business of going it alone that has led us so astray.

In the meantime, whenever my thoughts get mean and judgy, I try my best to breathe. I try to recall: “No one can fail who seeks to reach the truth” (ACIM, W-131). I go within, trusting angels. I turn inward, knowing all is well.

Photo by Maria Orlova

I know the above is different than what I usually share. It’s a tiny glimpse of what I try my best to practice throughout the day. Since 2010, I’ve been reading and practicing A Course in Miracles as part of my spiritual practice. Through this practice, I’ve met one of my best friends in the world: Corinne Zupko. Next month, I’ll be helping her host a retreat in St. Louis called Exploring the EDGES of A Course in Miracles.

Here is more about the retreat in Corinne’s words:

I would love to meet you IN PERSON this summer! On June 21st-23rd, 2024, I'll be facilitating the ACIM St. Louis Weekend Retreat where we will be "Exploring the Edges of  A Course in Miracles ."

Over the past few years some intense experiences have led to some intense spiritual openings. It has literally taken me a few years to get used to talking about what I've been learning, let alone teach about it.

I'm thrilled that I finally feel ready to share all that I've been learning about the "edges" of  A Course in Miracles .

What are the "edges" of  A Course in Miracles , you ask? Let me explain.

The "edges" are topics that the Course mentions but doesn't fully explore. I've found these topics to be potent and powerful ways that we can enhance our study and practice of the Course and learn that we truly do not walk alone.

Here are a few of the areas we'll be exploring during the retreat:

- PSYCHIC ABILITIES: There is a brief section on "psychic abilities" in the Manual for Teachers. We will explore "the clairs" in depth - clairvoyance, clairaudience, clairsentience and claircognizance. These are channels of guidance (that we ALL have) through which the Holy Spirit speaks to us.

- ANGELS:  A Course in Miracles  clearly acknowledges the presence of angels. During our guided healings, we'll work with angels and you'll learn how to deepen your relationship with them.

 - THE SOUL: We'll explore references to the soul in  A Course in Miracles . We will engage in practices so you can get to know your own soul, and you will learn how to maintain identification with your soul even while walking around in your day-to-day life.

- PAST LIVES: Past dream lives are another teaching on the "edge" of the Course and we'll learn how past life work can assist us in changing our minds. And yes, we'll do a guided healing in this area!

- SEEING THE BODY DIFFERENTLY: While the body is a topic in the Course, I'm bringing some body-related topics into the retreat that are outside of  A Course in Miracles , with the intention of supporting and deepening our awareness that the body is not who we are. Rather than intellectually jumping to teachings like, "the body isn't real," we're going to incorporate the body into our work in order to help us experientially come to know it is not who we are. Topics that will help us repurpose the body include grounding, the chakras, and the body's energetic system.

- GUIDED HEALINGS: We will be engaging in A LOT of experiential practices. You won't just be listening to me talk for 3 days. Instead, you'll have many opportunities throughout the retreat to clear old energy from the body (because the body is in the mind), which includes releasing old imprints, old fears, and blocks to love.

You'll leave this retreat feeling inspired, infused with light, and with actionable tools that you can use in your journey as a spiritual student.

This retreat is going to be unique, fun, and filled with opportunities to heal.

I SIMPLY CANNOT WAIT!

I truly hope to see you in St. Louis this June!

LEARN MORE AND REGISTER HERE

*This post was originally written in 2011, and updated in 2017.

A few years ago there was a weekend where I faced some fears. It wasn't my intention to face these specific situations, but it is my intention every morning to surrender and remember what my purpose is-—that being to choose love over fear.

It began as I packed my two children (then six and three) into my car to head up to the family cottage for the weekend. My husband would be meeting us there the following day. When we left the weather was fairly mild and sunny. Two hours later, however, we were in the thick of one of the worst storms I've ever had to drive in. Snow was blowing everywhere, there was fog and since our cottage is pretty far north, there were no streetlights and very few cars on the road. I called on Spirit right away. Part of me wanted to freak out, pull over and cry. The other part calmly said, "Keep going."

After 30 minutes of driving blind, we made it to a town with a motel that blessingly had rooms. The kids thought it was the best thing ever: McDonalds for dinner! Mommy bought a new movie! We get to stay up!

We were safe. Thankfully, the storm calmed and we headed to the cottage the next morning.  Miracle #1

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On Sunday morning I woke up and decided I wanted to write that day.   asked my husband to take the kids home and I would stay at the cottage to write for a while and head back in the evening. Try as I might, I just couldn't get the words to flow. The story I was writing takes place in a town 30 minutes north of the cottage. I decided to drive up there for inspiration. On the way, there was a place called "Devil's Monument" that I wanted to include in the story. I decided to drive to it and see it for myself.

Devil's Monument is located on a cliffside, the Niagara escarpment, along Georgian Bay. I drove not knowing exactly where I was going. There were signs sporadically, but for the most part, I was driving on instinct. Eventually, I had to drive down a one-lane muddy, gravel road that ended at a trail.  Even though I wasn't dressed for the weather (one degree Celsius) I felt it was ok to keep going. It was 1.7km to the monument and I knew I was fighting daylight since it was already three-thirty in the afternoon. I surged on and stopped to text my husband to let him know where I was. "Sounds great! Enjoy," he texted back. I knew Spirit was with me.

Calmly, in the background of my mind, was a voice saying "You're going to meet an animal."  I kept going.  Reaching a fork in the trail, I saw that I could go left or right.  Right was a shorter distance to the monument so I went that way.  I reached a clearing with a thick copse of trees to my right.  All of a sudden I heard rustling.  I stopped dead. Then I heard a growl. I screamed. Frozen in my tracks, my mind raced. I could hear the animal pacing not 10 feet away from me and I knew it was a wolf or a cougar.  I heard another growl and I screamed and ran back. I ran the entire way back to my car. I sensed the animal wasn't chasing me and I knew I was safe, but I ran anyway.

I reached my car, safe and sound. Didn't see the monument, but all limbs were intact. Miracle #2

Driving back I decided to keep going north and check out the town of Tobermory, the place where my novel is set. I've been there many times as a visitor but I wanted to check out some of the back roads. By the time I was done, it was dark.  This meant I would have a 4-hour drive home through small Ontario towns and, again, roads with no streetlights. I had done it before, just not alone.

About two hours into the drive back, my ten-year-old Volkswagen Passat started acting up.  The gear changes are rough, and sometimes, getting the car to go at all is a challenge. Again, I gave it over to the Holy Spirit. "I rest in Spirit and am safe." That doesn't mean I'm going to be stupid.  It means I will trust the loving voice within. I kept going. About thirty minutes north of the ONLY city I would drive through, the car dies. I pulled to the side of the road and called my husband.

"Stay where you are," he said. "I'll come and get you."

That loving voice within tells me I can make it a little further.  Even though I'm on the road, I've only been on a few times before (and in daylight each time); I got a strong sense that there is a mechanic a few miles up ahead, so I let the car cool, started it again, and drove on. Going around a bend, I knew that the next sign would be an auto repair shop.

It was.

I pulled into the driveway, made it to the parking lot, and the car died again, but I was safe. Miracle #3.

This was the weekend my faith grew stronger. This was the weekend I decided to become a writer. This was the weekend it all began.

Any time I choose to listen to Love instead of fear, I ask for and receive a miracle.

So much gratitude...

♥

Photo by Josh Hild

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If you have an idea for a book and simply need a little push or some light hand-holding, I’m here. Check out my website, writingmiracles.me, and contact me for a FREE 15-minute consultation to see if we’re a good fit.

I wrote this post in July of 2018—a lifetime ago. And yet, I wanted to share this one because I still find the waters of business to be tricky to navigate. Maybe you can relate. 💙

There is no real method to my madness when it comes to sharing my writing and certainly no master plan. I go on feel. I run on emotion. Motivation...where'd you go?

My emotional world is taking up a lot of space these days. I'm kinda sick of saying I'm 'healing,' but well, I am. It's a luxury, isn't it? If I lived almost anywhere else in this world, I'd be 'surviving.' There would be no therapy, no time spent writing and musing, no hikes with a good friend, or date nights with my husband. My pure focus would be to put food in the bellies of myself and my babies.

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Yesterday, my web person (who is also one of my closest friends) discovered that the contact form on my website is not working. More than that, it has not been working for the past seven months. This means I've lost at least a dozen potential clients. I mean, I'd been wondering why it had been so quiet, but I was so focused on the reason being *me* and where *I* was at that I didn't even consider looking at such a simple solution.

I'm not a businesswoman. I am a writer and a creative. And while I may have many luxuries, I don't have the luxury of only being the latter if I'm to have any modicum of success. So, while I intend to be patient with myself as I move through these next few months, I also need to acknowledge that I have lost my ambition, and I need to find it. I will find it. It lies just beyond this next phase of healing and just beyond *me*.

I can write beautiful words and hold a vision in my mind, however loosely, of where I want my writing to land and how many hands I wish to hold it. As I surrender, I am guided. I no longer stand in my own way. I will step back and let something higher lead the way. The focus is on kindness, beauty, sharing, and uplifting.

Love, thy Will be done.

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The Sweetwood Series is available at Barnes & Noble

The literary world exists beyond Amazon! 🙃

The Sweetwood Series is a romantic suspense series—all in one book.

Sweetwood Secret is a second-chance romance.

Sweetwood Scandal is a small-town romance.

And Sweetwood Christmas is a feel-good holiday romance.

Buy Sweetwood Here