When I decided to jump in to this project, I didn’t realize what a learning experience it would be.
I have tried Canva before, and I used it to create my book cover. Pretty simple.
I was accustomed to the information-gathering, editing, and rewriting that I had to do. (Even after all that, I know the book is farrr from perfect.)
The process of formatting through Kindle Direct Publishing was stretching, and it included lots of trial and error. After viewing it on various devices, I had to tweak the formatting. You must unpublish the book if you need to edit it— so I have already had to unpublish and republish this book twice.
After listing the book, I found it under another author’s booklist. (Her name is Lisa Luciano, too.) So, I changed my name to include my middle initial, and got the book in the right place.
Looking back, the experience was like taking a class. I learned, practiced, made mistakes, started over, and repeated this a few times. The end project of this made-up, self-directed class was to complete and publish my own ebook.
Notes:
I enjoyed collecting quotes from some of my favorite children’s authors. These quotes are included at the beginning of every chapter.
Chunks of the book were adapted from other work I have done here on my blog, or borrowed from my other writing projects.
My favorite part sits at the end of the book, where I tell a little bit about my personal journey. It’s called: Tired, Crazy, Ignorant and Unrefined: My Story.”
If you are interested in homeschooling, or know someone who is, I invite you to take a look! The book aims to be encouraging and practical for anyone who is new at home education, and it might be helpful for homeschooling parents who would like a few fresh new ideas.
A free copy goes to the first three people who would like to send me their name and email address in a private message!
any more than The Christian Life is all about YOU.
Marriage is one big school to make you more like Jesus.
Someday, you will look back and see
the big picture
and the footprints of God
who effortlessly carried you through every joy and trial.
Keep that fresh, dewy, idealistic smile on your face.
With God,
You got this.
Love, Me
Love is patient and kind; love does not envy or boast; it is not arrogantor rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful, it does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth.Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never ends. – from 1 Corinthians 13
I have decided to jump in a start a new business, writing website and blog content, creating professional bios and more. The name of my business and website is: Eleven Star Content (inspired by the number of children God gave me!)
For four years, I have been freelancing through Upwork, a global marketplace that has enabled me to write for a diverse assortment of clients, such as:
car dealers
perfumers
real estate agents
attorneys
health gurus
ditch diggers
mommy bloggers
beachcombers
restaurant owners
startup CEOs
These varied projects have acted like on-the-job-training, taking me from minimal writing background to a versatile and growing collection of writing experience.
This blog, My Word Soup, has helped too, and I hope to still be here writing out my personal musings, poetry, homeschooling thoughts, humble Bible commentary, family foibles and more.
Thank you
for your comments, encouragement, inspiration and love
that has also been a big part of launching me into this new endeavor!
( thanks to the help of my website creator, Gino Luciano, and website consultant Theo Luciano 🇺🇸, my WordPress website, Eleven Star Content, is up and running.)
It’s a little late for Mother’s Day and National Teacher Appreciation Week, but I am reposting this blog post, originally published on May 9, 2018 ~ in celebration of homeschooling moms everywhere.
The homeschooling mother has no paycheck, union, or prep hour
She wears a comfortable uniform and decorates with toddler art
She doesn’t weave her way through crowded hallways
She treads a path littered with laundry and Legos
She doesn’t eat her lunch in the Teacher’s Lounge
She nibbles between dish-doing and question-answering
When a stranger asks her daughter,
“What’s 3 x 4?”
And her daughter looks at the ceiling
And her son doesn’t seem to know his countries from his states
The homeschooling mother never says,
“What are they teaching you at school?”
She just blushes
and vows to get out the flashcards.
But the homeschooling mother’s students:
Can divide the last cookie into perfect thirds
Know how to survive in the Arctic
Translate Latin phrases
Play Bach on a violin
Have stepped into the Middle Ages — in costume
Know where to find the beginning of wisdom
Have looked at the Civil War from the eyes of South, North and the Native American
(And can tell you what else was going on in the world at the same time)
Perform chemistry magic using home ingredients
Talk to nursing home residents without flinching
And, they can tell you in which episode Eugene went missing from the town of Odyssey.
Being a mom is not a BEING LIFE; it is a DOING LIFE.
It’s a constant, daily, demanding string of decisions between selfishness and donating love cheerfully.
When a sleepy wanderer-child interrupts my calm early morning…
When I want the kitchen all to myself…
When I had a busy day and just wanted to rest….
When I am trying to think and someone asks me rapid-fire questions…
Will I snap in irritation, sigh impatiently…or donate love cheerfully?
Donate: verb:
1. to present as a gift, grant, or contribution; make a donation of, as to a fund or cause:to donate used clothes to the Salvation Army.
2. To provide (blood, tissue, or an organ) for transfusion, implantation, or transplant.
Yep, that is motherhood. Donating gifts, contributions, blood, sweat tears, heart, soul and more — whatever one has left to give.
I will most gladly spend and be spent for your souls…
2 Corinthians 12:15
It’s holding tight, It’s lettin’ go It’s flyin’ high and layin’ low It lets your strongest feelin’s show And your weakness too It’s a little and a lot to ask An endless and a welcome task Love isn’t somethin’ that we have It’s somethin’ that we do…
There’s no request, too big or small We give ourselves, we give our all Love isn’t some place that we fall It’s somethin’ that we do…
I wrote once before about my mother-in-law, Zenaida, on this blog, but last week I had the privilege of writing about her again, because we said our final goodbyes to Mama Z last week.
Here are some words I shared at the funeral of this tenacious Cuban lady, and the full story of her courageous exit from Cuba follows…
“We have a big family and each time after we had a baby, Zenaida would come for a visit, bearing LOADS of food. She didn’t just bring a meal and a bag of salad. It was more like:
A huge watermelon
2 XL bags of tortilla chips
3 pineapples
A large, heavy homemade loaf of banana bread, baked in a bundt pan
A 10-pound package of ground beef
And an institutional sized box of cereal
When she arrived, our refrigerator and freezer would be stuffed full and there was so much food on the table that there often wasn’t room for anyone to sit down and eat there.
That was just how she gave.
She gave BIG. and
She gave generously.
On these visits after a new baby, Zenaida would find things to clean. She was thorough, and there was always something to clean at our house. She would scour the grimy highchair, she would pull out the washer and dryer and sweep behind, and once she used a toothpick to completely detail our toaster — removing every last crumb.
Zenaida loved to work with her hands, and she would add beauty and sparkle to her creations and sometimes add her own creative touch to something she had purchased. She made her own clothes and was not afraid to tackle complicated styles. She usually chose fancy fabrics with a little sparkle, and she always wore her outfits with her favorite jewelry.
Zenaida and I shared a love of sewing, however, the fabric I usually chose was much more plain and simple and I seldom wear much jewelry.
One time she took me aside and said:
“Lisa. You shouldn’t dress so much like a nun.”
She sewed many dresses for me and for our daughters. Once she made me a jumper that had an opening cut out at the bottom.
She said:
“I made it like this, so when you are walking up the stairs, the dress will kind of open up at the bottom and show your legs a little bit.”
Actually, the dress I am wearing today is one that Zenaida made for herself and wore 30 years ago at our wedding. I think she would be happy to see me wearing something she made — and with a touch of sparkle in the fabric!
Tomorrow’s funeral service will include a Bible passage from Proverbs 31 about an inspiring, God-fearing woman. This is a fitting passage for Zenaida, because it includes phrases such as:
She works with her hands in delight!
She makes coverings for herself;
Her clothing is fine linen and purple.
The heart of her husband trusts in her, and he will have no lack of gain. She does him good and not evil, all the days of her life. (I never knew Zenaida’s husband; he passed away many years before I became part of the family. But whenever she spoke about him, her words were loving and honoring.)
She looks well to the ways of her household, and does not eat the bread of idleness.
Her children rise up and bless her.
And that last phrase is our desire: to share words that explain what a priceless part of the family that she will always be, and to express gratefulness for her investment of love in all of our lives.”
In 1963, Zenaida Martinez Araujo Luciano left Cuba with her beloved husband, two young sons, and nothing else but her faith and courage.
On August 15, 2020 Zenaida left this earth with a full life, along with the admiration of her large and loving family.
Zenaida was born in the town of Santiago de Cuba, Cuba in 1932. She was the only child of Francisca Martinez Araujo. Zenaida and her mother lived with Josefa Fernandez, a dear family friend, who became like a second mother to her.
Zenaida attended Escuela de Comercio where she joined the marching band as a drummer and played on the volleyball team. After high school, she studied at Escuela Profesional de Comercio and earned her degree in international trade and customs in 1955.
After finishing college, she fell in love with and married Antonio Luciano. The couple welcomed their first child, Antonio Jr., while living in New York. After Cuban dictator Batista was removed from office, they returned to Cuba, where their second son, José was born. When the new leader, Fidel Castro, declared Cuba a communist state, Zenaida and Antonio applied for permission to immigrate to the United States.
Zenaida and Antonio finally received authorization to leave Cuba in 1963, and when they departed their homeland, they were forced to leave behind their family and friends, their wedding rings, and all earthly possessions. After a brief stay in Miami, the family obtained sponsorship generously offered by the Richfield Jaycees in Minnesota. When Zenaida’s friends warned her that she would have to milk cows up in Minnesota, she laughed and said she gladly would.
While living in Minneapolis, Zenaida and Antonio’s family grew as they were blessed with sons Nicholas and Giovanni. Sadly, in 1974, Zenaida’s beloved husband died of cancer, which left her with four children, limited English, and without a driver’s license, car or income source. Dauntless and determined, Zenaida pushed through these new challenges, and studied to become a U.S. citizen in 1976. She learned to drive and secured a job at the VA in laundry and food service. Later, she transferred to the IRS, where she worked for 20 years. After retiring in 1997, she was free to travel, sew, care for her grandchildren and attend their important events.
Zenaida will always be remembered as a persistent, generous, faith-filled person who never gave up. She was the #1 fan of her grandchildren’s activities and she was always the first person to deliver a happy birthday phone call or a severe weather update. Among many other things, she was an expert seamstress, a sports enthusiast, the best banana-bread-baker, a lavish food-giver, towel-embellisher, soup-maker, salsa-dancer and the rainbow-jello-queen.
This past year, Zenaida faced her cancer with dignity and courage, and she often expressed gratefulness to her family, who cared for her in her home. Zenaida passed away on August 15, 2020 at age 88, surrounded by her devoted family.
Thank you, Dolly Mama, for the grateful list idea.
God is sovereign and never changes. The pandemic is raging, but the rest of the natural world still proceeds predictably and peacefully at God’s direction. He is in control.
My imperfect marriage. Sometimes, my man and I are a real piece of work. But, because of Jesus, my husband is mine and I am his and there is hope and humor and love that can go the distance.
Prayer. It is only recently that I am really clinging to the power of prayer in the lives of my children, teenagers and young adults. I cannot control their worlds anymore; only God can. Talking to God about them is the only thing that gives me peace about them.
Little outdoor getaways. I cannot get out of the house and sit at a coffee shop and write or read or think right now. That used to be my little treat to myself; my little breakout time. But I am thankful recently for walks on local trails and a beautiful spring so I can enjoy peace and quiet outdoors.
Homecomings. Because of the pandemic, most of my young adult children had to migrate back home and work remotely. This has been such a pleasure.
Food. There is enough.
Home Repairs. Another silver lining within the sad, global pandemic. With an altered work schedule, my husband and sons had time to work with an expert to get a new roof put on. One son painted a needy room and we also got rid of lots of junk.
Health. I am grateful for good health and don’t take it for granted.
Vehicles that work right now.
Fun books: read-alouds, audiobooks and volumes that keep people happy in hammocks all day long.
I live with 4.75 teenagers. These were once my babies and now are unique creatures who often resemble fragrant, helpful allies and other days pose as smelly, ungrateful strangers.
Like dependent joeys, they once hovered around me for transportation, food and internet passwords. Now some of them drive cars, buy their own chips and stop whispering when I walk into a room.
“What did you say? Who’s doing what?” I plead like a pitiful toddler. Life has cruelly circled around — I am now the one who craves to be let in on secrets and it is I who must take naps.
One of my teenagers currently displays an unusual, robotic sense of humor — like when he greets me at breakfast by pointing sharply at me and saying:
Target Acquired.
We discussed respect / disrespect today. Sometimes I ask him to complete a chore and he jokingly answers:
Yes, I will not do that.
When I was finished with my mini respect lecture, he offered me a rigid handshake, peered at me with a robotic stare and stated in a monotone:
Thank you for your candor.
Minutes later, he offered me another stiff hand and droned:
Congratulations. You have been reinstated as our mother for another five years.
We had some other options, but this worked for us right now.
After eating the lunch I prepared for him, he approached me again with:
Congratulations. Your term as mother has now been extended for the next TEN years.
My oldest daughter and I were in the kitchen yesterday and she looked me up and down with concern.
“Umm..I was just wondering why you dress with such a mix of patterns lately?”
I looked down at my flowered skirt and buffalo checked shirt. “What’s wrong with this?” I asked. “They both have blue.”
This daughter has been professionally trained to assess cognitive loss in the elderly population.
So, I second-guessed myself.
Am I losing it?
Is the fact that I seldom leave the house starting to affect me?
Am I just getting old?
But I’m of Scandinavian descent — I like bright colors.
I’m an artistic type — I don’t mind a little mixing of patterns here and there.
Perhaps this is how I see myself:
But maybe this is how she sees me?
Part 2: My Morning Trip to Walmart
One day later, I got to Walmart as the doors opened; as the masked shoppers rolled past the greeters who now double as patron counters.
I was wearing a flowered skirt (again), athletic shirt (matching color), baseball cap (hair needs coloring), barn jacket and black boots.
Halfway through the dairy section, I noticed an elderly, well-dressed woman. She was a petite, classy grandma type, with snowy white hair, wearing a flashy red dress, fitted black wool coat, nylons and dress shoes, gold earrings, and red lipstick.
Remember, this is Walmart. The sight of her really stood out.
We finally crossed paths near the empty toilet paper aisle, eye to eye and cart to cart, though still six feet apart.
“I like your skirt,” she said to me.
“Thanks. I was noticing you, too — all dressed up here at Walmart.”
She leaned in and quipped, “We need to class this place up a bit, don’t we?”
I laughed and rolled away, smiling. (Also rare at Walmart these days.)
My Word Soup 