Backstory to the Lottie Mae Story
Is hope most creative in darkness?
"Don't
stop dreaming," shouted the brown skinned third grader as my Little Engine
That Could struggled up the steep mountain side to deliver toys and candies to
children on the other side. Without this experience in my Spellbinder
storytelling at Deep Springs Elementary, I would not have been inspired to
create a story with this theme.
If it
weren't for my legal blindness (VA diagnosis: "Catastrophically
Disabled") starting five years ago, I would not have qualified for the VA
training in computers for blind Veterans, undertaken at Hines Blind Rehab
Center in October of 2012.
If it were
not for that training, I would not have started writing my first book, my
spiritual memoir in 2013. If not for that, I would not have produced a guide
for learning resilience in dealing with my own dark places, both growing up and
as an adult. Resilience of a Dream
Catcher, written for my Veteran brothers and sisters, would not have been
conceived, and even if conceived, not enabled. It was through the risking of
this personal storytelling, often painful, that I found the courage to
continue.
If not for
that practice in using Zoom Text on this new VA laptop, and learning to format
for kindle and print, I would not have been enabled to write stories featuring
themes of finding hope, courage and resilience.
If not for
that striving in using stories, while continuing in Spellbinders storytelling,
I would not have conceived my children's book. Without my grandkids serious
health issues and setbacks, I would not have conceived a story for special
needs kids. Without my own blindness, I would not have been spurred to designed
the story for adults also facing loss..
Moreover, my
grandkid's coaching plus the generous feedback, support and encouragement of
storytelling friends have helped shape this story to its present form.
Therefore,
my blindness, my dark places in growing up, my grandkids health challenges, and
my storytelling experience, have all worked to invite and spur my heart to,
hopefully, reach those with special needs with a message of hope, courage and
resilience.
Is hope most
creative when it finds itself in darkness, needing to connect with others
yearnings, in particular, those of children? Perhaps life is not a problem to
be solved, but instead, a great mystery to be embraced, lived and loved with
heart
I
could not have imagined a sequence of events as unlikely yet as lucky as this. Are
we most likely to hear the nightingale sing in the deep darkness just before
the first light of dawn, or just the robin at the kitchen window announcing,
after a restless night, that daytime has arrived?