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  • The Gift of an Unexpected If…

    Yay! A new Suamalie Islands book is now available! Congratulations to author Melissa Wardwell! To celebrate its release, the Suamalie authors are doing a series of blog posts along with a giveaway. Melissa got to pose the question, and this is what she said:

    In an Unexpected Gift, Kiana is a closet video gamer on the internet. It is how she decompresses at the end of a long day. What is something you do to relax or decompress after a long day? Bonus points if it is completely uncharacteristic of you!

    Before I respond to this question, I need to ask for the definition of two terms—relax and decompress. By contrast, I fully understand the phrase “long day.” I started my morning today at 6:00 am. I ran about 3 miles on my treadmill, and I haven’t stopped running since. There’s been so much to do, and so much still needing doing. It’s now almost midnight, and I’m writing this blog post, which doesn’t feel like it should count as relaxing or decompressing either!

    The sad reality is that I don’t relax and decompress right now. It’s a problem. But I don’t have time in my schedule. I recently started a new part-time job, and I’m trying to manage that with my author work, with being a very-involved mom to four busy children. I honestly feel like time must go slower for others than it does for me. I don’t know how some of my amazing author friends manage to get everything done. I’m thoroughly convinced they must have a magical device that slows time down so they can accomplish more. I think my magical device puts time on fast forward!

    I go to bed each night with a long list of what I should have accomplished today. I get up in the morning and put out fires all day. Then I end the day again only adding more to my list. I hope that life will eventually settle down. I’d love to get a few minutes to relax and do something simply because I enjoy it and not because I’m trying to get something done for someone else.

    In the meantime, let’s play the “if game.” If I had time to relax and decompress, what would I do? Growing up, my relaxation was reading. Oh, how I loved reading! I still do! But since I started writing my own books, it’s more difficult for me to turn off my brain when reading. While I still love to read, now it takes a lot of effort for me to settle down and relax into it. So my first choice for my elusive fantasy moments of relaxation would not be reading.

    Here’s my confession: I actually know exactly what I’d do if I had time at the end of a long day. I would watch a low-budget princess movie on TV.

    On a rare evening after the kids are in bed, my husband may flip on the TV in our bedroom. Then he may start scrolling through all the shows on Amazon. We even have a subscription to one of the channels that shows a lot of Hallmark movies—a subscription I haven’t looked at in months. He’ll ask me what I want to watch. I’ll idly watch the screen flipping through pictures and movie titles, not really caring what we should watch. Then I’ll spy a movie about royalty. The Princess Something or The Royal Whatever.
    “That one. Let’s do that one,” I’ll say.

    Unfortunately, there are a decentnumber of cringe-worthy royalty movies. We may wince through the cheesy plot and trite dialogue. The movie may not include an actual plot at all. There may be a few smiles and a tad bit of sweet romance. But there’s nothing at all similar to what I experience every day and very little resemblance to anything I write. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying that princess movies are bad. Quite the opposite. I like them. A lot. So much so that it really doesn’t matter if they are good or bad.

    For an hour and a half, I don’t have to think. I don’t need to live in reality. For the space of just a bit, it provides a meaningless escape from everything. And somehow, it’s exactly what I need.

    So if I had time to relax and decompress, I would watch the cheesiest princess movie I could find and enjoy every minute. Even better, my sweet husband would watch it with me (with very minimal teasing about my cinematic taste).

    However, instead of indulging in relaxing, my usual nightly activities involve fighting sleep as I stay up late, trying to make headway on my to-do list. Those activities invariably involve writing—as they did tonight. In the exercise of creating words that look back at me from a screen, I find a bit of release. I feel a sense of accomplishment as I see the neatly organized rows of words. There’s an emotional release in the feeling that I’ve transferred some of my tumultuous thoughts onto an organized page, and I can leave them there.

    For now, that little taste of relaxation and decompression gained through writing is just enough for me to finally shut my computer, go to sleep, and wake up to brave it all again tomorrow when my alarm clock strikes 6:00am.

    An Unexpected Gift by Melissa Wardwell

    Something’s up in Suamalie, and it’s looking like love!

    When Kiana, Lulu, and Meilani decide it’s time for the islands to
    have affordable wedding options, Something Suamalie becomes the
    marriage of skills, friendship, and wedding splendor on the islands.

    Cruising around the island on a Moped in a business suit may seem
    incongruous, but Kiana knows how to blend practicality and
    professionalism, a strong work ethic and relaxation. With no time for
    mistakes or changes in plans, she’s also decided to forgo romance
    (for herself). There just isn’t enough time in the day. That is until the
    early arrival of one of the groomsmen of Something Suamalie’s first
    booking throws everything off balance, including her thoughts on
    long distance dating.

    Beau was perfectly content with his job and the growing attraction to
    a girl back home; however, he hadn’t figured in the sassy and
    sometimes unprofessional wedding planner. Seeing her world begin
    to unravel while she and her partners fumble with their first weddings
    tugs at his heart strings and leaves him second guessing his choices in
    the romance department.

    She’s a study in opposites. He’s attracted. So now what do they do?

    Take a trip to the Suamalie Islands where palm trees sway, the sand and sea pulse with life, and the
    people will steal your heart.

    Check out some of the other stories of fun getaway experiences by the other Suamalie Islands authors!

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  • To Be Seen…

    So I haven’t written a blog post in a very long time. I intended to… just like I have intended to use Instagram, Twitter, Goodreads, Pinterest, Bookbub, Facebook ads, Amazon Ads and a few others authors swear by. But I have very limited time, and usually, all my best writer-y intentions go out the window when teaching a little girl to tie her shoes is my most important task for the day. I have been sending out a monthly newsletter, and I’m super proud of myself for that. I can’t brag that I have the best (or any) advertising for my books, but every month, people around the world get a real-life, encouraging, and hopefully inspiring email from me. That’s where a lot of my potential “blog posts “have gone. My newsletters are personal, and I guess I feel more comfortable writing my personal experiences and thoughts to be read by my “reader friends” rather than an open letter for all the internet to read.

    However, something happened this week. I intended to write about it in my newsletter. Knowing what to write is a huge relief just about every month. But then I felt the strong conviction that what I wanted to write needed to be shared in a blog post, and I needed to do it sooner rather than later. I feel the Lord saying that someone needs to hear the words I need to write. So I’m putting aside my long-to-do list and all of my “shoulds.” I’ll have to figure out my newsletter topic later. If you’re a subscriber, we can be surprised together by what I will write. For now, I’m sitting on the floor of a basketball gym with my laptop while my son practices, and I’m listening to the insistent whisper urging me to tell the story you need to hear.

    Earlier this week, I dropped my son off at basketball practice at his school and was driving home around 4:30 in the afternoon. The elementary school had released about forty minutes prior. As I drove down the road, I noticed a group of students walking down the sidewalk. That’s pretty typical. A lengthy sidewalk extends from the elementary school, past fields, eventually leads into town. Though it’s definitely not a short walk, students often walk home this direction. However, I noticed that a small girl trailed behind the other kids. As I passed her, I saw her tiny frame and estimated that she was a kindergartener, probably around five years old.

    And I saw she was crying.

    After I passed, I literally said aloud, “Nope, I can’t do that.” I couldn’t go on my way and pretend I hadn’t seen her. It’s almost like I had a conversation with God right there. “I guess you want me to turn around, God, because You know I can’t unsee that.” God knew that I couldn’t ignore a child.  If God asked the question of who would pass by a crying child and turn around, I’d raise my hand and say, “Me. It’s me.” I couldn’t continue home without making sure that little girl was okay. You see, I once wrote a book called A Cinderella Christmas, and its message convicts me on almost a daily basis. I try to notice those on the sidelines of my life. And if I see someone in need, I try to never walk away. Especially a child.

    Of course, the doubts immediately attacked. There was no place along the road to pull off. How could I check on her? I didn’t know her. Even if I managed to stop and approach her, would she freak out that I was a stranger? Would my efforts make it worse? Would it be considered creepy to stop my car and address a child I didn’t know?

    But I couldn’t walk away. I went to the next street and turned around, still doubting myself and having no idea what to do. I made another pass, wondering what to do. As I passed this time, I saw one of the older kids walking back to her, and I was so relieved. There! The other boy was going to help her. Everything would be okay, and I wouldn’t need to do anything after all. I went down the road and turned around again. Now I was worried that the kids would notice my minivan passing them multiple times and freak out!

    But I told myself this would be my last pass on my way home. Unfortunately, I saw that the older boy was still a ways away from the little girl. My gaze fell to her face one last time. And I saw her tears still drawing her features in heart-wrenching sadness.

    “Nope. Can’t do it.”

    I went back to my previous turn around spot and swung around once again. This time, I drove back down the road with determination. I found a slightly wide section of dirt on the right, and I pulled my minivan off the road as far as I could. Without hesitation, I hopped out of my car and crossed the street.

    “Is she your sister?” I asked the boy.

    “Yes,” he answered.

    “She is crying. Is she okay?”

    “She just doesn’t want to walk anymore,” he explained. “She wants me to give her a piggyback ride, but I can’t because I have my backpack.”

    I approached the little girl and spoke gently. “I saw you were sad, and I want to make sure you’re okay.”

    She looked up at me. My goodness, she was adorable! Her teary dark eyes blinked up at me. Her downturned mouth curved up. She tipped her head back and looked up at me, her face transforming with wonder. It was like seeing the sun come out from behind the clouds when you’d just experienced a storm so bad you doubted its existence.

    “You saw I was sad?” she asked, her little voice mixing with wonder and profound relief.

    “Yes. Are you okay?”

    I looked down and saw that snow boots encased her little feet. No wonder she couldn’t walk! I bent down and tried to adjust the boots, but there was nothing I could do. They weren’t going to fit her better, and there was no way I could fix them to be more comfortable.

    I brainstormed with the kids, trying to figure out what to do. I found out that they lived in the subdivision at the end of the road. Looking down the long sidewalk still ahead, I knew it was way too far away. The little girl’s feet must be hurting so bad. I knew she was telling the complete truth when she said she couldn’t walk anymore. It wasn’t practical for the boy to give her a piggyback ride for that distance either. I asked if they knew their mom’s phone number and I could give her a call. But they didn’t.

    I felt that the only option was to give them a ride. But in this day and age, I had no idea if that would be considered okay and if they would be comfortable with that.

    “I’m a mom, and I help out at the school,” I began.

    “I know you,” the boy said proudly. “You’re Levi’s mom!”

    Such relief. “Yes, I am!” I finally looked at him enough to recognized him as being in my son’s fifth grade class. I’m a regular volunteer in the classroom and the school. I’m probably a familiar face to many students. “So you know me. Do you think it would be okay with your mom if I give you a ride home? I’m not sure how else to help your sister. I don’t think she can walk anymore.”

    The boy eagerly agreed. “Oh, we’ve gotten rides before.”

    Right then, the few other kids who were ahead finally came running back to see what was going on. Turns out, one of them was another sister. And I recognized her immediately.

    “I know you!” she said with a toothless grin. “You’re Brielle’s mom!”

    I also volunteer frequently in my daughter’s class as well, and this little girl was in that class too!

    They were all eager and comfortable with me giving them a ride home. So I loaded them carefully in my minivan, made sure all seatbelts were properly clicked, and we set off.

    The boy directed me to his house, and they soon happily hopped out. I talked to the mom very briefly, explaining that I saw her daughter crying because she couldn’t walk anymore, and since the kids knew me from school, I gave them a ride home. She didn’t say much, but I did get an enthusiastic hug from one of the little girls.

    I finally made it home myself, but I couldn’t get the kids off my mind. I’d helped today, but what about tomorrow? Did the little girl even have shoes to walk? What if the snow boots were all she had? I sent a message to one of my teacher friends, explained the situation, and asked her if she could check to make sure the girl had shoes. Thankfully, she assured me she’d take care of it.

    I’m not sure how long the little girl would have had to try to walk home if I hadn’t come along. I’m so glad I didn’t look away and mind my own business. I’m glad I was able to help. But that little girl gave me something of greater value in return.

    I will forever remember the look on her face when I said, “I saw you were sad, and I want to make sure you’re okay.” She didn’t know who I was. She didn’t know how I saw her. To her, it probably seemed like I had just appeared. But in that moment, she truly felt seen. Someone saw and cared. Someone cared that she was sad and wanted to help, and that was wondrous. I think that she would have followed me anywhere simply because I had seen her, recognized she was sad, and cared enough to ask her about it.

    Just a few days before, I had read the Biblical passage in John when Jesus calls Nathanael. Jesus told Nathanael, “Before Phillip talked to you, I saw you under the fig tree.”  (John 1:48) I think we often gloss over that, thinking of it as the equivalent of, “Hey, I saw you standing over there on the street corner.” But I don’t think that was it. It had to be more than that. Others hadn’t seen Nathanael, otherwise it wouldn’t have been a significant thing to say. Something about Nathanael and the fig tree couldn’t have been known by others. Maybe Nathanael had been praying, confessing the secrets of his heart to the Lord. Maybe he’d been where no one else could have possibly seen him. Whatever it was, what Jesus told Nathanael was personal to him. It was significant and personal enough that it changed Nathanael’s life. Because of that one phrase, Nathanael followed Jesus, dedicating his life and his work in service to someone he’d just met.

    Nathanael felt seen.

    What I did for that little girl is what the Lord does for us. He sees us—every little insignificant detail, thought and feeling. All of the stuff we think no one else can possibly know? He sees that too. He knows when we are sad and when we can’t walk anymore. And He cares.

    The message came to me at the perfect time. I’ve been wrestling with a few things, often feeling that my prayers were meeting silence. Frustration was my companion on multiple fronts. And I heard the message: Even though it seems like I’m stuck on a very long road and my feet can’t take another step, God sees me. He sees that I’m sad. He sees all the reasons and all the frustrations. And He cares.

    He cares enough to arrange things for me and for you exactly as He did for that little girl. Even before her feet started hurting, he arranged for my son to have a 4:30 practice. He arranged for me to be the one to drive down that road at exactly the right time. He caused me to look and recognize sadness on a little girl’s face while traveling at 35 mph. He created me with a love of children, and He sent me knowing I would notice and not ignore. He gave me the idea for a book that I wrote several years ago—a book that haunts me enough that I turned around even though it would have been easier to mind my own business. He gave me the courage to be a rescuer even though I didn’t know how it would be perceived by others. He sent me to her at exactly that moment, knowing that I would meet her need—arranging things even before the need existed.

    Know that He’s working in that same intricate detail for your needs.

    Whereas I spoke to the girl within the confines of my limitations, the One speaking to you is limitless. He has provided the answers to your prayers even before you knew to pray. Just because you haven’t seen them yet does not mean they aren’t there. When you are exactly at the right spot in the road, your answer will appear even when you never saw it coming.

    This is the message He wants you to hear:

    “I see that you’re sad, and I’m going to make sure you’re okay.”

    May we look up at Him with the same wonder and relief of a five-year old little girl. And may we, in turn, notice those around us, not walk away, and give that same gift of making someone else truly feel seen.


  • Even If

    Please Note: I originally wrote this as a guest post on another blog in February of 2018. Reposting now for my own site. Though much has changed, life is still confusing and difficult more often than it’s not. I think of this post often and my prayers frequently include even if.

    Even If…

    Don’t you love stories of miracles and how God answers prayer? If that’s the type of article you are looking for, I must apologize because this is not that.. In my life, I seem to get a lot less of the miracles and a lot more of God answering not in the way I want, His silence, or His flat  ‘no’s’.

    So, what do you do when God doesn’t answer your prayers?

    Not the Right Answer

    A few years ago, my husband hurt his back to the point that he couldn’t work and could barely move. We were praying for him to be healed, but the prospects didn’t look good medically-speaking. No treatment came with any kind of guarantee. After multiple doctors and physical therapists, it looked like his best option was surgery—not exactly the answer we were looking for. However, seeing it as his only medical option, he had the surgery. Before he made it out of the hospital, the disc in his back re-herniated, with this time being worse than the first. Two weeks later, he underwent a second back surgery.

    Throughout this experience, came the questions:  Even if my prayer for my husband’s healing wasn’t answered the way I want it to be… Even if he isn’t able to work… Even if that vow ‘for better or worse,’ has a lot more of the worse than the better… Will that make a difference in my faith? Will I still believe?

    God’s Silence

    After a very difficult year, my husband and I sold our house. The problem was that it sold faster than we anticipated, and we didn’t have anywhere to move to. We found a house that we loved, we prayed about it and felt that this was the house God had for us. Then we put an offer on it, and it was rejected. Suddenly, we were very confused. We had really thought this was our house, so why hadn’t things worked out? Shouldn’t God had paved the way for our footsteps if He was directing?

    A common idea is that God’s will is a smooth path lined with roses, when in the Bible, there are countless examples of the opposite. While I struggled with this idea, I also wanted a “for sure” answer. So I prayed and prayed. And fasted. And prayed some more. I wasn’t praying that we’d get the house. I was praying that God would in some way answer—that He would speak in a clear way that let us know what direction we should go. I agonized. I begged. I just needed something from Him.

    And what I got…. was nothing. Seriously, you could have heard crickets chirping in the vast void of God’s silence.

    And I was a little ticked. I mean, it didn’t seem like a big request to have the God of the universe blink once for ‘yes,’ and twice for ‘no.’

    It may not seem a big faith test, but it was. And I was again faced with the question. Even if God stayed on mute and didn’t ever answer my question, would that make a difference in my faith—would I still believe?

    God’s No

    Last Fall, I was expecting our fourth child. We’d had a nightmarish year that had included my husband’s diagnosis, surgery, and treatment of thryroid cancer, unexpected hospital stays for our children, and unbelievable ‘bad luck.’ But now, with a baby on the way, we were so very excited that something good was going to happen!

    But at twelve weeks, I started to lose the baby. I lay in bed in excruciating pain and begged God to let my baby live.

    How would I explain to my three other children that they weren’t going to have a baby? How would I handle it, knowing my sister, who also was pregnant and due at the same time, got to keep her baby and I didn’t? What if this was it, and I never had another baby? I love my three boys to an indescribable degree, but I’ve always had the dream of a daughter. What if God never granted that desire?

    And through all the questions and pain whirling through my mind, came the question… Even if?

    Even if my baby died. Even if all of those questions were answered with God’s ‘no,’ would that make a difference in my faith—would I still believe?

    Even if…

    No.

    The answer to all of the questions is ‘no.’ Even if my prayers are not answered in the way I want. Even if all I hear is God’s silence. Even if He says ‘no,’ lets my baby die, and never gives me another…

    It will not make a difference in my faith. I will still believe. Even if.

    Why? Because my personal experience does not change who God is. His existence is not determined by if e answers my prayers. In fact, His existence is not determined by me or whether or not I believe.

    It’s kind of like how a baby discovers object permanence. Does an object exist even if I can’t see it? Even if my worst nightmare comes true and He doesn’t answer the way I want, even if I can’t see Him, even if He tells me ‘no,’  that doesn’t change who He is. I believe, not because of my experience, but because He is.

    I believe He is still there, I believe He is still good (Psalm 100:5), and I believe He has a plan for my life (Psalm 139, Romans 8:28), whether or not I can hear or see it at an individual moment. Why? Because His Word tells me those things about Him, and I have to believe object permanence applies to God too.Even if I can’t see those things at a given time, that in no way determines their existence.

    I think we don’t get the “right” answer a lot in regards to health issues. Instead of the healing we pray for, we get surgery or medical treatment. And sometimes we just get strength to make it through the day. In regards to my husband, he recovered well from the second surgery, though it is unlikely the nerve damage will ever be completely repaired. Thankfully, he was able to eventually return to work and life settled into a resemblance of normal.

    In this instance, unlike many of the others in my life, I was able to see a glimpse of God’s purpose behind His seeming inadequate answer. During the time that my husband was hurt, I wrote and published my first book. Had I not had the stressful question of not knowing if he would ever work again, I might not have ever had the motivation to do what I love and what has become a wonderful career. Fourteen books later, I am beyond thankful that I get to share exciting stories of unique characters that somehow manage to echo my own walk with God.

    We bought the house. It was not easy. At no time did we ever feel the certain answer we desired, but we made the wisest decision we could. We paid more than our initial offer, and there was no shortage of stress and drama, but we eventually had an offer accepted.

    It still seems like God could have eased my anxiety some and just given me an answer. But I’ve come to realize my peace of mind might have been a small price to pay for a silence that might somehow build my faith. If we were already on the path of His Will, why would He need to confirm that? Instead, I lived out an ‘even if,’ and realized that in God’s silence, I still believe.

    Our baby died. It was a nightmare that I still cannot think about without crying. After the horrible pain of miscarriage and surgery, I was left completely empty, experiencing an ‘even if’ I would never wish on anyone. God said ‘no.’

    Nine months later, my arms are still empty and there is little hope that they will be filled again. And yet, God’s ‘no’ doesn’t change that even in this, I still believe.

    Prayers are often not answered, and more often than not, we don’t know the reason why this side of heaven. But the bad things that happen don’t change who God is. I don’t know why some things happen, but I do know God is good and He has a purpose in all my even ifs.

    Everyone has struggles. No one gets through life unscathed. For those of you who are living through an ‘even if,’ take heart: God still is. He loves you and has a purpose for you and all your tears. So I pose a question to you: Even if… ?

    For me, my even ifs have not made a difference in my faith, but my prayer is that they will make a difference in yours.

    Though the fig tree does not bud
    and there are no grapes on the vines,
    though the olive crop fails
    and the fields produce no food,
    though there are no sheep in the pen
    and no cattle in the stalls,
    18 yet I will rejoice in the Lord,
    I will be joyful in God my Savior.

    19 The Sovereign Lord is my strength;
    he makes my feet like the feet of a deer,
    he enables me to tread on the heights.

    Habukuk 3:17-19


  • All Good Deeds

    No good deed goes unpunished. It’s a cliché that often, unfortunately proves true in daily life. Sometimes, when I finally get the guts to do something, events do not go in my favor, and I end up feeling battered when all I wanted to do was accomplish something good.

    Last month, I saw on Facebook that a woman from my church was having a rough time to close out a really rough year. Her husband had been very ill with one thing after the other, the latest being cancer. She is his caregiver, and now was experiencing some debilitating health issues as well. I felt such compassion for her and wanted to do something to help.

    Of course, doubt immediately chased the heels of my good intentions. What could I do that would be helpful? Maybe I could cook a meal. Hello, inferiority complex! My cooking isn’t good enough. I don’t know what they like. They probably wouldn’t like it even if I did cook something.

    Nothing I could possibly do would ever be good enough.

    I stopped myself, trying to shut out all of the excuses. I knew I could easily talk myself out of doing anything. After all, I have my own family to feed, I do all kinds of things for other people, I had already exceeded my “kind quota” for the month, and I had a mile-long to-do list begging for my attention. No one would think less of me if I didn’t take on this one.

    But I would.

    Is giving nothing better than giving my something, no matter how inadequate it is? If I tried, at least my friend would know I cared. But if I talked myself out of it, she’d never know that I cared and longed to help make things better for her.

    “When it is an act of kindness, there should only ever be one answer to the question of ‘maybe I should.’ The answer should always be ‘Yes.’”

    It is a line I wrote in a book that haunts me every day. When I wrote it in “A Cinderella Christmas,” I didn’t realize that it would change my own life so profoundly. Now, when a compliment to someone pauses on my lips or I wonder if maybe I should do something to try to help, the same doubts always creep in as my mind tries to talk me out of the work and the risk. Then that line comes back to me., leaving no room for my escape. I take a deep breath. Lord with your help…  And I say yes.

    I reached out and found out that several members of our church were already signed up to take meals, and I volunteered to be one of them. I decided to do myself a favor and do an easy meal that I make all the time for my family—chili and cornbread. My kids love it, so I hoped it would be good enough.

    The day arrived, and I was optimistic. I let my kids choose a dessert, and I made chocolate chip cookies first. Those came out pretty well, with me managing to only get one batch a little too toasty. Then I prepared the chili. I usually make chili in my Instant Pot, which I love, but sometimes, if I brown the meat in the pot, a layer of chili sticks to the bottom and prevents it from reaching pressure. To play it safe, I browned the ground beef separately on the stove and then transferred it to the rest of the chili in the Instant Pot. I then made the corn bread. It’s a very easy family recipe that I do all the time, and my kids love it.

    I put the cornbread in the oven and saw that I was running behind schedule. Then I looked at the Instant Pot. To my frustration, It was not reaching pressure. I called an immediate “abandon ship,” and hurriedly transferred the chili to a pot on the stove. Then I checked the cornbread. The picture should adequately describe my horror.

    What had I done? The simple answer is that I had forgotten the baking powder. Obviously, a little baking powder goes a long way. And without it, cornbread goes nowhere at all. I make this recipe all the time and have never forgotten the baking powder—until the night I was making it for someone else.

    Frantically, I grabbed a new bowl, which was difficult since I’d already managed to dirty every dish in the kitchen. I ran to the pantry to grab my ingredients again. My 8-year-old got in my way, and I snapped at him. (Cue guilt and an apology I gave later.) I mixed up more cornbread while I hollered for my husband to come help clean some of the dishes so I had something to work with. More cornbread in the over, texts sent telling my sweet friend that I was running late on dinner, and uncooperative chili finally simmering on the stove.

    Long story short, my husband made the dinner delivery about thirty-five minutes late. The chili was cooked, the cornbread was fluffy, and the cookies weren’t burned. But I, myself, was left way over-cooked, not fluffy at all, and a completely burned-out mess!

    No good deed…. And yet my friend knew I cared. My meager inadequacies were still better than nothing, and for me, that was good enough.

    My kids made her get well cards that we took with dinner. They also knew what happened. They saw me struggle and keep going to serve someone else. And they’ll see me do it all over again the next time I feel led to help another person.

    If I attempt an act of kindness and completely screw it up, ending up frazzled, embarrassed, and wondering if I never should have done it in the first place… you know what? The answer is still yes.