Limbo: (Memoirs of a Teenage Author)

(This is post #8 of the My Journey to Gritty: Memoirs of a Teenage Author series)

While we were living at my grandparents house, my mom feverishly searched newspaper ads and the internet, looking for a place for us to call home. She and dad went and checked out several properties, but always came back shaking their heads.
My grandparents headed off to the other side of the country to visit my aunt, the house felt emptier.
Weeks passed. I constantly babysat my little brother and sister. Sometimes, when I couldn’t take their piping, questioning voices anymore, or while they were taking a nap, I’d go to the bathroom, retrieve my notebook from inside the cabinet and sit on the floor so I could scribble at “my story” a while.
There would always be a knock at the door before long though.
“Jess! I know you’re writing in there!” Mom would call.
I’d sigh, wait a couple moments, then peel myself off the floor, flush the toilet so that it would make some noise, stow my notebook under the sink, and leave the bathroom with as innocent an expression as possible.
She’d suspiciously look at me as I went by, but usually wouldn’t scold me. My writing was my only “me time” and I’m thankful beyond expression my parents didn’t discourage it. (Except when they needed to use the bathroom, of course.)

The second time I woke up that morning, it was peaceful. The sun was just about to come up, and dim, early morning light drifted into our room and made everything glow.  It sparkled off the water in the washbasin to fluctuate restlessly on the ceiling. It bounced off the desk’s mirror to make our bed shine. Thomas’ breathing as he held me was raspy, but as calm as the breeze wafting in with the light. 

I couldn’t always write though. Sometimes my hands would cramp up and ache from holding a pencil so long. When that happened I’d go sit at the computer and look up stuff on the internet.
Then, one day, I was bored beyond belief searching for hope chest ideas, and I stumbled across something. It was an article on hope chests. (Read the re-posted version here.)
I liked the post so much I started checking out the other stuff on the blog it was featured on.
And that was how I became involved with the Young Ladies Christian Fellowship, now Kindred Grace.
The articles on YLCF’s blog inspired me. It was nice to have a touch of “normal life” added to my “crazy life”. I think my very favorite series back then was Trina Holden's Tipi Tales. (That series is published exclusively on her personal blog now.) I identified with the feeling of “houselessness” and impermanence.
Never would I have dreamed that someday I'd be part of their writing team. That still blows my mind and makes me smile, remembering that struggling teenager so long ago.

Not long after I found YLCF/KG, Mom and Dad came back from visiting a piece of property with smiles on their faces. They couldn’t stop talking about this particular piece of land, and they wanted to take the whole family there to check it out.
A new adventure was about to begin.
And life was about to get a lot crazier, in a pretty awesome way.

Click here to read the next post in this series: A Long Walk

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