#1 NYT bestselling author Linda Lael Miller
Getting It “Right”

I confess.
I’m a perfectionist. And it’s something I’d really like to overcome.
So often, I’m so focused on getting-it-right that I miss the whole point of the project or experience, which is learning. If I get 10 good reviews on one of my books, for instance, and one bad one, I will focus on the bad one. Why? Because I want to be perfect. I want my books to be perfect. Preferably, right now.
As if.
I need to get over that. I’ll never be perfect, and that’s okay. The Master is perfect enough for everybody.

Tuesdays with Hazel

Today, I’m taking my mom, Hazel, out for lunch and a little shopping. I don’t get to spend enough time with her, because of my schedule, so I’m really looking forward to this.

My mom is a very special lady, with the quickest wit I’ve ever seen. Her smile brightens a room, and she’s the one who blessed me with two things (among many) that have stood me in good stead through a lot of trials: my love of books, and the spiritual foundation I received because she sent me to Sunday school. When I was small, marching off to Northport Presbyterian Church with a quarter for the collection plate wrapped in a cotton handkerchief, I had no idea that the Bible verses I memorized would eventually save my sanity and perhaps my life.

Later on, for instance, I was a young bride, and my husband was away in Viet Nam. Fighting at the front, he was in constant danger. I was lonely at home, and in a job I truly hated, but couldn’t afford to quit. I remember driving from Spokane, through a blinding snowstorm, to visit my parents, who lived in Kettle Falls at that time. I was at the end of my rope, and crying so hard I could barely see the road.

And then these words came back to me, as clearly as if they’d been spoken out loud:

“Be still and know that I am God.”

I was instantly consoled. No, all my problems weren’t solved. I was still broke, still excluded from a mean-spirited little clique in the office where I worked. (In retrospect, I see that as a good thing.) My marriage was destined to fail, and there were other hard things ahead, too. But that single verse opened a place in me that has never closed, a platform on which to stand.

Today, I thank God–and my mom–for all those Sundays I wasn’t allowed to sleep in.

Though the term “stick ‘em up” is widely used in Western films, it wasn’t actually coined until the 1930′s.

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