Author: Melissa Snyder

Melissa Snyder https://awriterbecoming.wordpress.com Melissa Snyder is an introvert with a flair for the dramatic in her writing. She is a wife, mother, teacher, compulsive writer, voracious reader, and fierce defender of Love and Imagination. She likes to write about faith (her own and faith in general) and self and emotion and society and hobbies, as well as revealing the myriad paracosms that inhabit her mind. These paper bullets of the brain live in her blog and on Facebook where she endeavors to write about life and Imagination boldly and share honestly.

Reblog: My Favorite Badass

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This was too excellent not to share from Elizabeth Gilbert’s facebook page today!

I have so many absolute badasses in my life, to be honest. Those few of you to whom I spoke today, believe me, you ARE badasses and I love you dearly in all your excellent and awesome badassery. MUAH!

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WHO IS YOUR FAVORITE BADASS?

Dear Ones –

Our sweet friend Ruth Sze at www.doodlebubbledesigns.com posted this lovely drawing on Instagram yesterday and I love it so. She invited us to ponder who our favorite badass is right now, and I invite you to do the same, and to tag that person in your response.

My favorite badass this week is my friend Glennon Doyle Melton (Momastery) because she always uses her broken heart to heal a broken world. She is a tireless and generous love ninja, who is not afraid to be vulnerable, not afraid to risk connection, not afraid to share her scars and fears so that others do not feel so alone in their confusion.

Also, this week, somebody was mean to Glennon (which makes me become a crazy she-wolf of protection for my friend!) but Glennon refused to let it stop her from her ongoing mission of love.

My favorite badasses are all people who are not afraid to feel their feelings.

A real badass is not afraid to forgive.

A true badass is not afraid to sit in her sadness and anger and pain until she works her way through it — rather than lashing out in retaliation at the world, or making other people suffer for her pain.

A beautiful badass — in my eyes — is someone who has learned that before she can make friends with anyone else, she must make friends with the crazy shit-tornado who is herself. Because until we love our own crazy shit-tornado, we can’t love anyone else’s crazy shit-tornado.

A creative badass is anyone who is not afraid to share her imagination with the public — regardless of the criticism that may arise.

A generous badass is anyone who says, “I have more than enough for myself and I ALWAYS WILL — therefore, I will share whatever I have with you.”

A resilient badass is anyone who stands in the wreckage of failure and error and says, “Oops. Guess we better start cleaning this up…anybody got a broom?”

A brave badass is anyone who has ever asked for help.

An optimistic badass is anyone who believes that this broken world is still worth fighting for.

A smart badass is anyone who can set boundaries without being punishing or vindictive.

And a holy badass is anyone who knows that — beyond this whole wild and messy world — there is power at work greater than anything we can imagine…and that we are part of that story.

I am so lucky to be surrounded by SO MANY badasses. It would take forever to list them all. But today, I especially honor Glennon, who had a rough week and who keeps going…and for whom I will ride or die.

Now…over to you guys.

Who is your favorite badass today?

ONWARD,
LG

Settling Into This Next Version of Myself

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My watchword for this year is grace and one of the books that I am reading (and have been looking forward to for a long while) is Jen Hatmaker’s For the Love: Fighting for Grace in a World of Impossible Standards.

Quotes of the Day:

“Now fully able to cheer wildly for friends and colleagues, I am free to be me without the constrictive mesh netting around my heart, everyone else is free to be themselves, and I am thrilled about us all.” – pg 15

“You decide your day should contain laughter and grace, strength and security. You realize insecurity, striving, jealousy, and living in comparison will eventually define your entire life, and that is NOT the legacy you want.” – pg 16

“This is your place. These are your people. This is your beautiful, precious life. Probably about halfway done here on earth, you lay down angst and pick up contentment.” – pg 16

From Chapter 2: “On Turning Forty”.

This chapter is written as a small treatise from her now-forty-year-old self to those who are coming up behind her in their twenties. I am not yet forty but so much of this resonated with me, even at (only) thirty-two. What Jen writes here feels very much like what I am processing through right now.

“Oh, my stars, when I was twenty-nine, I was so hamstrung by what everyone else was accomplishing. Other people were my benchmarks, and comparison stole entire years. I lost much time in jealousy, judgement, and imitation. I just couldn’t find my own song (15).”

I could have honestly written this myself and it couldn’t be any more true. I lost years comparing myself to others and finding myself wanting or thinking that others found me wanting in important ways. I gave up a great deal of power to others over what I perceived was their disapproval or my being “too much”. It’s only now, quite a few years later, that I am finding a place of peace with myself and others, stopping the looking sideways so much, and, as Jen puts, it “developing some chops”.

My favorite quote, though, is at the end of this chapter:

“So, sure, your body and mind get whack, but I promise: you wouldn’t return to your twenties for all the unwrinkled skin on earth. You’ll like it here. You will love better, stand taller, laugh louder. You’ll pass out grace like candy. Real life will temper your arrogance and fear, and you will adore the next version of yourself. We all will (16).”

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The Woman in the Mirror, Part 3

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Author’s Note: If you do not want to think of me in any other context than my sweet, mild side, you may not want to read this. Fair warning!

The woman who stares back out from my mirror, I have seen several sides of her. I have seen her soft and wise and feminine. I have seen her coy and coquettish. But, tonight, I saw a different side of her, one that I really like but don’t see as often anymore. As such, I am always struck when I do see it.

The woman who stared back at me in the bathroom window was raw and comely, absolute blood-pumping sex appeal. Goals and all of that set aside, she loves her body, loves to take care of it, sees herself as beautiful, desirable, and rather revels in it. I was taken aback a bit at the glance she gave me. That smirk pursed and curled her lips as she shook out her hair after settling the form-fitting black tank top over her torso, the fabric clinging in all the right places. It was almost as if she was daring me:

Say it. You know you want to. And it’s true besides.

What? That you’re hot and totally full of rawr (and other words that I probably won’t write down but definitely list off in my head and leave to others’ imaginations)?

 Yes. Yes, you are.

She just kept on smiling, even blowing me a kiss as she pulled on my favorite top, the black lace panels sitting cunningly off her shoulders. My shoulders?

Yes. You are.

Yes. I am.

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Turning the Page

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As 2015 prepares to haul on its cloak and make its exit, I cannot help but throw my mind back over what has made my life important this year. Not just the wifely things or the mommy things, but what has been important to me, Mel, as a person.

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Artist Spotlight: Cassandra Calin

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I love this young woman’s adorable comics and sketches! They just made me giggle and squee all over the place. Be sure to check out her Disney Girls with Curls series.

Check her out at: http://c-cassandra.tumblr.com/

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For the Love of the New Year

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This morning, as I yet lay in bed, I read my incourage devotional for the day with bleary morning eyes, and it struck me.

The devotional talked about rejecting the do-more-be-more nature of New Year’s resolutions and embracing the gift of a new, fresh year by choosing one word to carry through the year. One word to focus us as we go through the days, weeks, months. The writer’s pick is joy. I think my pick(s) for this past year were happiness and kindness. So I am asking God to give me my word for this year. I am feeling a heart-tug towards grace but I shall keep praying for clearness and clarity on it as the year draws to an end.

I have also begun reading Jen Hatmaker’s For the Love and the very first section talks about balancing my beam–rejecting the idea that I have to be good at everything, say yes to everyone. I want God to help me balance my beam, to make the cuts in expectation so that I can be as effective for Him, in my life purpose, and in love as possible.

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An Invitation

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My Dear Readers and Friends,

Today, as Christmas Eve dawns and grows, if you are finding yourself overwhelmed (or underwhelmed) by all that needs to be done/accomplished/achieved/experienced in this holiday season, I have a personal invitation for you.

Stop. Right here. Right now. Take a deep, full breath, and type “Me” in the comments. 

Here’s why: I would be more than happy to share a pick-me-up, word of encouragement, give you a virtual hug, a prayer, or just let you know: “Me, too”. I will not promise that it will fix everything but that is not my goal. My goal is simple: for you to know that you are not alone, my friend. Never alone.

Love and lots of hugs,

Mel

A Dragon Sky

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Olaf would say that the sky is awake, and so it is. As I stepped outside to toss the trash into the hopper, I found myself struck and just staring upward. The moon is almost full–round and bright and beautiful–the air is crisp and lovely, and the clouds are racing over the sky, backlit in moonlight blue. The only description that came to mind was “dragon sky”. Like dragons, the epitome of air elemental, racing through the night air or their breath so hot billowing before or after them in a great exhale that mists the blue-black velvet above.

I just wanted to lie on the hood of the car and watch the sky, fall asleep to the cloudy symphony above. But then my family would worry and I would surely catch my death on the cold hood of a dew-covered car. So I shall settle for writing it down and calling it up in my mind’s eye for a smile as the night goes on.

On Chocolate-Covered Cherries

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They look like cunning little mice, like runaways from their pecan-eared cousins at the Night Circus, their heads ducks to hide their cheeky, little, whiskered grins. Meanwhile, this leaves their cherry-stem tails to flirt in the air as they curl themselves down into round little chocolate balls, tucked and huddled together. I can just imagine them fast asleep, snoring away, having gotten bored with the human who have yet to decipher their delicious little secret. Aren’t they just adorable? Delicious? Adorably delicious? Yes, and.

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My Body’s Favor

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It is so rare that I am inspired by my own body, but it is so fabulous when I am. A year ago, I posted about losing my “glorious”, how the comments of strangers made me feel small and objectified, very much not-cute, and definitely not glorious.

Today was on the other end. After a long hot shower that went a long way to helping me feel human again, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror as I rubbed muscles sore from exercise and tension. I have caught glimpses of myself before, naturally, but the woman who looked back from the looking glass today was slightly different. I have seen her refined and elegant, graceful and soft. But this one: she was…sultry, sharp in a way. The way she tilted her head was coy, coquettish, and I felt like she would soon be giving me a sly noir smile from behind reddened lips and under smoky lids. She looked like a woman who would walk along as if the world was her oyster, opened for her discovery and pleasure. I loved looking at her (me) and found myself starting to revel more in myself as I rubbed the lotion into my skin, inhaling the scents of chamomile and bergamot that soaked into me as I massaged my muscles and paid attention to my areas of tension. It was, altogether, the most peaceful moment of my day.

Then, tonight, as I changed into my pajamas after an evening of family and birthday presents, I had a moment where I looked down and was struck at the sight of my black stockings against my dark skin, turned into thigh-highs for a moment as I divested myself of them. I just paused and smiled, as I am a person with a deep affection for thigh-high stockings and socks and their adorably cunning coquetry. It really just made me smile and muse on lovely legs in equally lovely stockings and socks.

Altogether, today, my body has done me a great service in not only surviving while short of sleep and getting me from place to place but also in giving me moments of feeling absolutely beautiful (even stunning) while doing so.

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