Author: Charli Renee

Late-blooming scribbler building a soft landing for curious souls.

Ah, here I go again, starring in my own dramatic documentary.

On By Charli Renee6 Comments

The lighting is intense, the soundtrack is emotional, and the audience (also me) is on the edge of her seat wondering if I will survive the tragic ordeal of a mildly awkward moment.

Maybe the camera crew can take a lunch break. Maybe not everything needs a sequel, a plot twist, or a slow motion replay at three in the morning. Some moments deserve nothing more than a shoulder shrug, a little snort of laughter, and a snack.

And oh, the relief when I let myself laugh instead of lecture. Ahhh, it feels good to invite back the sparkle, the silliness, the lightness that seriousness has been sitting on like a grumpy hall monitor. Laughter opens the windows, lets fresh air in, and suddenly life doesn’t feel so tight around the ribs.

I can choose to treat my everyday missteps as bloopers instead of character flaws. I can roll my eyes with affection at my overthinking and remind myself that most things do not require a board meeting, a written report, or a twelve hour internal audit.

I can care and still stay light. I can be human and still find the humor in the whole messy, heartfelt thing.

I am practicing holding life and myself a little more lightly.

Thank you for sitting with me today.

Baffled by her Brilliance

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She is so wise; I swear she understands me. I talk to her often, monologue-ish conversations where I ramble about my day and, yes, sometimes answer for her too.

I like to think she has an above-average IQ, maybe higher than most humans.

Then I look up, and she’s trying to shove her bone into the top blanket, but there’s nowhere to shove it. She sits back, studies the situation, then tries again with renewed determination. She tilts her head, clearly baffled that her hidden treasure is still in plain sight.

I step in and tuck it away for her. She lays down for what seems like a proper hiney-bo grooming session, lol.

So maybe I overestimate her intellectual capacities. Or maybe she’s just a genius pretending to be simple so she can keep her room and board.

Her

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She is a winner. The orneriest, wittiest, wisest, most entertaining, fun, curious, loyal, loved, easy laughing, unique, inspiring, honest, and beautiful lady of integrity there ever was. I’m not exaggerating!

Yes, she and Dad introduced me to God, and for that I am eternally grateful. She has shown up for all of her loves, over and over again. She instilled in me the notion that thoughts are things, and each and every day, I reflect on the gift she gave me.

It was afternoon, just after school, as I recall. We were cleaning the counter, and I don’t remember what she was responding to. I can only imagine I was expressing a less than enthusiastic attitude about having to do chores, lol.

Anyway, I still hear her voice.

Don’t get me wrong, she isn’t perfect. But dang, she comes close. I say this because ever since I can remember, she’s put up with my shenanigans, and when we’ve faced friction (usually my doing), she never stopped proving her unconditional love.

There is no one more deserving of my respect and admiration.

She isn’t tall, but if you mess with one of her loves, well, let’s all be glad she doesn’t carry.

Despite her being a bit of a private introvert, when it comes to family, furry and otherwise, they are her world entire.

And one more thing, don’t just take my word for it. She is so cherished, so adored, and so deeply loved by her devoted husband, Papa, her sissy, her four other children and their spouses, all her many grands, thirty plus in all, including all her grands and great grands. Then there are the nieces, nephews, not to mention her many familial friends, all of which cherish the treasure she is. Her magical self continues to touch so many lives.

Mama, when it comes to you, finding what’s right always comes easily, the easiest in fact.

Pollyanna with a Side of Real Talk

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Yes, I choose to be a Pollyanna type of person. I have been scammed, cheated, hit, raped (TMI), bullied, lied to, and abandoned, mostly by myself. I have made plenty of poor and selfish choices too. I feel some know less trauma, but most the same or more. We’re all part of the same messy tribe called “people,” trying to make sense of it as we go.

Yet, I prefer to believe in the goodness of people and businesses. Not because it is easier to live in denial than be bothered with discernment or discomfort; but because I believe in good people and businesses that run on integrity. I have experienced much more of the good stuff.

My employers, for example, have displayed strong and healthy transparency and honest business practices. Plus, most of my dealings, besides the company I work for, have been honorable. Finding hard workers who do right by you and aim to earn your business is such a privilege to witness.

Also, my family is not perfect, but I have been blessed to know what it is to be on the receiving end of noble parents and siblings. And I have lifelong friends who have withstood the test of time and friction. Good ladies!

As a customer service rep, I know engaging with challenging attitudes is very stressful, but still they are the minority by a long shot. Most people are either civil, and some give the kind of warmth I like giving and receiving.

Where am I going with all this? Hold on while I try to remember, lol, jk.

I just have noticed lately that now I understand why the older population gets crotchety. People seem to just ignore when we have issues. I don’t want to be negative, but this is a bummer. Maybe I am also exemplifying a boomer approach that is causing… idk.

Hey…

Maybe, this wasn’t a rant. Maybe, it was just a small prayer disguised as one. For goodness to keep showing up. For grace to meet frustration halfway. For all of us to stay kind, even when it’s hard. And for hope to remind us why believing in the good is still worth it. Lastly, may we find the balance of discernment to avoid unnecessary bumps in the road.

My Heart

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We all know time passes. We learn that fast, sometimes too fast. And we all figure out eventually that we are not here forever. Death is part of the deal. It is not a surprise, and yet it always is.

It boggles my entire being that I have an eighteen-year-old granddaughter. Not just any granddaughter, but my new roomie. Hilarious, full of fire and fun, she brings energy into every corner of the room. Nothing about her is quiet. She is bold and brilliant and beautifully complex, just like the women who came before her. She has my heart.

And then there is Blayk, my soon-to-be seventeen-year-old grandson. My only boy. He is becoming one of the best men I have ever known. There is something steady in him, a deep well of compassion and strength that humbles me. He is rising into himself with grace, and I am honored to see it. He has my heart.

My middle granddaughter, my shining Mady Skye Pie, is just two weeks away from her golden birthday. Thirteen. The edge of something magical. She is a blend of sparkle and steel. She is thoughtful and creative. She is already showing signs of becoming a force in the world, just like the women who came before her. She has my heart.

And then there is my baby-girl Rachel, now seven. Uniquely cool, endlessly lovable, and deeply missed. I carry her giggles in my memory like a favorite song I can’t stop humming. She has my heart.

This life, these children, these moments, these years… they move through me like a wind I never saw coming, but I would not live without. I would not trade a single second of watching them grow. I love them fully. I remember every version of who they have been and who they are becoming.

They each have my heart, and always will

On the Porch: A Little Curiosity & Coffee

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Good morning, my friends. I am so delighted to have you on my porch this morning. Sit down, let me get you a yummy cup of coffee, or do you prefer tea? Oh, here is a blanket to put over your legs. Isn’t that cozy? What a beautiful day, huh? I am smiling so big inside now that you are here; it is an even sweeter place.

I love that we get to visit awhile. It’s been such a joy sharing my dreams and messy bits with you, and now I’d love to know more about you too.

Can you relate to finding people fascinating? We’re creatures, not so different from the ones we watch on nature shows: living, eating, sleeping, surviving. Now, don’t get offended. I’m not saying we’re out here in the wild picking tiny critters off each other’s fur! In our own odd way, though, we’re just animals too, born, nourished, messy, and eventually moving on.

Yes, we share so many of the same aspects because we’re the same species. And yet, our differences are remarkable. If I told you I sometimes see people as a living research project, would you be offended? No one wants to feel like an experiment. I think maybe “research project” isn’t quite the right way to say it. Maybe it’s better to say we’re all little mysteries to one another, and that’s a good thing. It’s one of the best parts of being human, discovering how beautifully different or similar we are and what surprises hide behind ordinary faces.

Instead of asking if you like to be studied, let’s wander into this question instead. We are dynamic creatures who have varying aspects of ourselves that come out to play or explore. My desire to know and understand is pretty constant, but with some I am allowed to go in. I put my reporter hat on and delve in. Oh, how I love those who indulge my insatiable curiosity. How about you? Should I go get my hat; or do you have one you want to wear with me? I want you to feel so comfortable with me. I am genuinely interested, my friend.

Sometimes, it is easier to open up when you are with someone who is also willing to be vulnerable with you, huh? It is key. The best kinds of encounters are the ones that feel balanced, real, raw, and bounce freely between listening and sharing, and maybe laughing so hard you spill your coffee down your shirt. That happens on my porch more than I’d like to admit. Spilling is a superpower, right? Maybe it’s not the mess but the permission to be a little messy together that makes connection real. Each connection, whether lifelong or brief, taps into different parts of who we are and invites out new or blossoming stories.

For example, let me tell you about my circle of friends to show you what I mean. With one, I am quite the babbling soul, and laughter always shows up. With another, we go straight to deeper conversations, discussing safely our faiths, our thoughts, even politics. She is a willing participant, always eager to go in. Then there is one gal pal who has taught me much from our interactions. She is a strong and enduring soul and friend, so feisty and lovable too. Each friend and connection brings and teaches so much. Oh wait, there is one more to share. She is a special friend that I am a bit intimidated by and still feel so close to. It is such an awkward dynamic. I find her and us a mystery that I hope to discover. However, I will have to let my guard down with her, and she with me if that is to happen. It isn’t an intentional wall; we are just both private and open too. I suppose I just don’t know her well enough yet.

Do you have people like that too? Close but also a little intimidating, familiar yet still a puzzle?

Oh, my goodness, like our time on this porch, the day is warming up nicely, dear sparkling reader. I don’t want to keep you from today’s journey.

What say you? Should we do this again? It has been very fun hanging out with you. I could sit with you for hours. Thank you for your time and for your willingness to ignite connection. It feels so good; shall we plan for our next visit… you, me, a porch, a cup of coffee, and some enticing curiosity lingering in the air? I hope you always feel welcome here. Let’s keep this porch inviting for next time; we’re just getting started.

Spilling Love,

Charli Renee

I Did It!! I Have Accepted My Very First Rejection Letter.

On By Charli Renee10 Comments

About a year ago, I decided to try my hand at writing my very first novel. How exciting that felt! What I am learning is that I don’t really know what I am doing, but I am having fun figuring it out. Writing always inspires more writing. I like that, and I like the writer in me.

Have you read Bird by Bird by Anne Lamott? I have. This author is so talented, witty, and honest. She emphasizes writing for the right reasons, that if you’re doing it hoping to get published, become famous, and pay off all your debt, you will most likely find yourself disappointed. She says, sure, one can achieve much, but even if one writes and writes and writes some more, chances are most won’t ever get published. It’s important to know that going in.

I even asked a writing AI what the odds were of having one of my submissions selected. It told me that while it’s possible, the odds aren’t good that it will come soon, that it takes commitment, many submissions, lots of rejection, and maybe, just maybe, someone will take a chance on you. Speaking of AI, I believe that while AI has its place, outsourcing creativity only leads to a lack of creativity on one’s own. I know that’s a side note, but it feels worth saying. Anyway, with AI helping so many new writers create and submit, the competition is even bigger, making it harder for fresh voices to break through. Most published pieces still come from writers who are already published, so to say it is a challenge to get our ideas in the door is a bold understatement.

Even knowing all this, ever since I started writing my very first novel, I have felt these tickles tapping on my shoulder. Pssst… have you considered submitting some of your finished projects to different magazines and contests? You know you’ve always wanted to.

“Yes, what a great idea,” I told those pesky tickles. Despite the truth of the matter, I am going in. I am going to do it and not care one way or the other about the outcome. I derive great pleasure in putting my mind’s comings and goings out in written word, so I’ll submit even if just for myself to say I am good enough to try. If someday I’m a tremendous success… lol… shhhh… enough of that. So, I started submitting and competing. I have no reason not to, well, until I received my first…

So sorry, but you were not selected.

Wait… what?! Read it again, Charli… nope, I read it right the first time. Hey, they did mention they want me to keep submitting. This is hopeful, right? Except I asked the online knowers of all, and they let me know it was a standard generic and graceful rejection letter. My heart sank for a moment, genuinely stung by the no. Of course, they want me to keep trying because submitting is not free, lol. “Hush, bitter one,” I told myself. I laugh, sort of, because a part of me actually thought I could win this thing. I sulked a moment and even thought, why am I doing this at all?

You know what, though? Guess what! It was the catalyst that brought me here. Seriously, it inspired me to make my very own destination, to take my attic full of promise and creativity and let it shine. Even if I never get published, even if no one comes knocking on my door or wants to come sit with me, I’ve decided I don’t have to be selected to keep trying and showing up for myself, and to be so proud of that.

Thanks for reading my very first blog post. I’d love to read your “not yet” story or rejection moment, because after all, this is something we share. We are all more than enough, just for showing up.