An ending and a beginning

It's time to make a change and build something new

The Nov/Dec 2002 issue of Faith Today magazine has a little note announcing my appointment as Associate Editor. There’s a photo of me looking impossibly young and really quite thrilled. I suspect I could hardly believe it.

In 2002 I would have been two years out of finishing a Communications Certificate at Tyndale College, which pushed me further down the road of being a writer kept busy with assignments. I had one child I could not take my eyes off for a moment without him running amuck and sinking ships, and two other kids in grade school all day long which meant I could write during nap times or while hiding in the bathroom.

Eventually I would have three in school and I started to see the possibilities of an almost full time writing and editing life.

We lived in Port Perry then and were probably just about to buy a house where I would have an office that I did use for a time, but typically I liked to set myself up at our dining room table. I’ve always done my best work on the table or our bed, where I sit right now to write this note to say that the Jan/Feb 2025 issue of Faith Today will be my last.

It has been such a good trip. I have loved my work helping to bring to life a national Canadian magazine that I believe has come into its own and is now a strong and consistently good read that helps connect the Church across the country. I’m proud of it. And as Director of Communications for the not-for-profit that publishes Faith Today I’ve had so many cool opportunities and challenges. It’s been a good and creative work with a team that I will miss.

Twenty-two years later, I’m very proud of the Nov/Dec 2024 issue of Faith Today

I’ll especially miss hosting the Faith Today podcast. I love to create good conversation. And I love to ask good questions and to listen. You can learn a lot doing that.

I’m stepping away from something good and I’m turning toward something good. This is a beautiful position to be in and I’m grateful.

I want to revive the freelance life I originally started with, working with editors, making pitches and taking assignments. And, I hope, focussing on my own writing life and what I might have up my sleeve and in my heart and head to write next.

I also want to take long walks when the sun is out, meet friends for coffee, visit my mother and Brent’s mother and not have to rush off, and curl up in a ball and read for a few hours if that’s what I’d like to do.

Doesn’t that sound good? It does to me.

Coaching writers will be part of my next chapter, I hope. I’ve been slowly developing that craft and practice and I can see how my years editing writers and nurturing some very promising ones — often the young mothers, I confess, because I saw myself in them and wanted to help them along if I could — have helped prepare me to be a coach. The Doctor of Ministry in the Sacred Art of Writing I’m enrolled in might help lead me toward more teaching eventually (I’m doing a bit now with ToolKit Media and Brent’s cousin Murray Stiller).

I hope so. I like it.

This is a change two years in the making. After my husband Brent died, I was left in pieces and with pieces. What remained as solid, true and unbroken was my calling and the privilege I have to be a mother to my three adult children — that will never change, even as what they need and want from me changes of course — and my vocation as a writer.

I want to be a writer who helps other writers bring their beautiful work into the world. That’s my goal.

I remember our friend Randy saying “No sudden moves,” to me after Brent died. Not surprisingly, Randy helped us with our retirement plans (and had also lost a spouse, so he got it). There was something about those three words in particular that settled and slowed me more than the vocabulary of “waiting to make big decisions” for a year. I just resonated with ‘no sudden moves.’

Maybe I’ve watched too many cop movies?

And so, I’ve been careful, talking and listening. I’ve discerned, tested the waters with my toe, talked to numerous friends, and I have taken my time, understanding I was giving up some pretty special work. Even the notice I gave was quite lengthy so that we’d all have time to adjust.

None of this means I’m not nervous. I am.

I’m scared of days that are too long and maybe not full enough. I’m nervous that this doesn’t mean a new chapter in my writing life but instead a great fizzling out. Quieter might not be better for me after all. But I am trusting my process (which I tell writers to do all the time).

This is not a sudden move.

It is a slow step forward into the life I want to build now. One that I hope will be artistically adventurous, helpful, fruitful, creative, kind, productive and gentle. Please let it be especially kind and gentle.

If you’ve made big changes to do with work and calling, I’d love to hear about your discernment process in the comments, or drop me a note. Mine definitely involved my gut, head and heart, and lots of talking with friends and advisors. And if you have insight into coaching, I’m all ears on that too! Thanks for reading. Thank you for your support.