As part of their language arts curriculum, my fourth graders learned that there were four main reasons to write — to persuade, to explain, to inform, and to entertain.  The writer had a purpose, and conversely, the reader has a purpose in picking up a certain book, article, or pamphlet.

However, I don’t think those are the only reasons.  I also write to make a connection with others, and I read for comfort. 

This week I’m reading Maya Angelou’s Letter To My Daughter.  It’s been a very challenging week (health-wise), and when I read this passage I indeed was comforted.

“He said, ‘First write down that I said write down and think of the millions of people all over the world who cannot hear a choir, or a symphony, or their own babies crying.  Write down, I can hear – Thank God.  Then write down that you can see this yellow pad, and think of the millions of people around the world who cannot see a waterfall, or flowers blooming, or their lover’s face.  Write I can see – Thank God.  Then write down that you can read.  Think of the millions of people around the world who cannot read the news of the day, or a letter from home, a stop sign on a busy street, or … ‘ ”

Maya Angelou received those instructions from her voice teacher and mentor, Frederick Wilkerson.  It was one afternoon’s lesson that guided her from then on.

“The ship of my life may or may not be sailing on calm and amiable seas.  The challenging days of my existence may or may not be bright and promising.  Stormy or sunny days, glorious or lonely nights.  I maintain an act of gratitude.  If I insist on being pessimistic, there is always tomorrow.

Today I am blessed.”

Often times, it feels as if most of what I see, hear, and experience would all work as the topic of a personal essay. 

As an example, this week I’d like to share with my readers a post that was recently published on MomsLA.com. 

Click here to read “12 Life Lessons As Observed On the Playground.”

For the past week or so, I’ve been reading When Women Were Birds by Terry Tempest Williams.  Here are a few of the stand-out lines that really caught my attention.

“… then it was also here where I came to know I can survive what hurts.  I believed in my capacity to stand back up again and run into the waves again and again, no matter the risk.”

“Each voice is distinct and has something to say.  Each voice deserves to be heard.  But it requires the act of listening.”

“I have experienced each encounter in my life twice: once in the world, and once again on the page.”

“To be read.  To be heard.  To be seen.  I want to be read, I want to be heard.  I don’t need to be seen.  To write requires an ego, a belief that what you say matters.  Writing also requires an aching curiosity leading you to discover, uncover, what is gnawing at your bones.”

These words are not mine, and they’re not about me.  Yet I read them and felt as if they were meant for me.

Yesterday my husband and I celebrated our 18th wedding anniversary!  It’s kind of crazy to write that sentence.  18 years — a whole adult person!

It got me thinking about an essay I wrote four years ago.  “13 Lessons About Marriage” was originally published at DivineCaroline.com.  Since then, the site and my essay’s title have been changed, but my essay remains.

In the spirit of Valentine’s Day and anniversaries, I would like to share it with my readers today.  Click here to read it.

I’m in the middle of reading Samantha Dunn’s memoir Not by Accident – Reconstructing a Careless Life.  I’m reading it because I’m curious about how she structured her memoir.  I’m also reading it because I know she lived to tell the tale (she’s an instructor in the Writers’ Program at UCLA Extension).

But I keep coming back to something written within the first few pages of the book.  Ms. Dunn’s friend tells her, “God touches us with a feather to get our attention.  Then if we don’t listen, he starts throwing bricks.”

Sometimes that’s how I feel.  That I don’t pay attention to the smaller, more subtle signs, and it’s not until something more drastic happens that I sit up and pay attention.  And let me just say that within the first month of 2017, there have been a few brick-throwing instances sent my way.

I’m going to really try to learn to start paying attention to the feathers.

What does it mean to raise a boy?

I’ll be honest.  When I learned I was pregnant with my son, I was a bit worried.  Aside from my limited time with my two nephews, I had no prior experience with young boys.  All my babysitting jobs had involved girls. 

Turns out that in many respects raising a boy isn’t much different from raising a girl.  Until, that boy gets older. 

Click here to read my personal essay “Raising a Boy” that was recently published on MomsLA.com.

I should tell you that I’m generally not very good at tooting my own horn.  I tend to avoid the spotlight, downplay my accomplishments, and brush off compliments.

Having written all that, I’m trying to change that part of my personality.  To accept compliments with a sincere “thank you,” and to be proud of what I’ve done.

So on that note, I’d like to share with my readers something I’m proud of.  The Writers’ Program at UCLA Extension has written a brief “Success Story” about me!  Click here to read it.

In honor of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.’s recent birthday, I wanted to share a story.  The other night at dinner, my son was telling us that some of his classmates were talking about how much they dislike our President-Elect.  They dislike him so much they “hate” him, and they want to “punch him in the face.” 

My son told his classmates that they needed to do what Dr. King said — fight with their words and not their bodies.

I sat across from my son and felt my eyes fill with tears.

My son had said that.  Out loud to his classmates.  He didn’t just think it, but he said it.  It made me so very proud of him — his character, his values.  And it made me proud of our family.

Hope, and proof, that the dream lives on.

“When two people get married, does it only have to be a man and a woman?  Or can it be two men?  Or two women?”

That was the question my son asked me, and that’s the beginning of a personal essay that was recently published at MomsLA.com.

You can read the complete essay here.

On Sunday, we started the New Year with a family adventure — my eight-year-old son went on his first Ferris Wheel ride.  And not just any Ferris Wheel, but the world’s only solar-powered Ferris Wheel.  Standing in line, waiting to board, our son began to get nervous.  “Will it go fast?”  “Is it relaxing?”  he asked us. 

He told us he was getting nervous but that he still wanted to try.  And that’s what made me most proud.  My son didn’t walk away.  He didn’t change his mind about going on the ride.  We did it, as a family.  And, he loved it!

I tried not to make too big of a deal about it, but I couldn’t stop thinking about how this one outing really set the tone for what I hope will be a great 2017.  Trying new things, having family adventures, being brave, and not letting fear or worry keep us from doing what we want to do.