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Building bridges, one word at a time...

3/30/2015

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by Gwendolyn M Plano
PictureThe Brooklyn Bridge...and me!
Thank you author Marlena Hand of Rave Reviews Book Club for inviting me to blog about my journey as a writer.

Even as a child, writing was a way for me to speak. I was painfully shy and always tried to sit in the back of the classroom, behind someone much bigger than me. Perhaps, I thought, no one will see me. My teachers began to notice my writing and read sections to my classmates, and so it was that through their encouragement I found voice.

My introversion softened over the years, but not without a struggle. I have a passion for learning and this drew me to one university after another, first as student then as teacher. Standing in front of a room of college students, I realized that I was hired to facilitate learning, and this shifted my attention.

When I write, I try to create connections. I reach across the divide of space and time to greet readers such as you. Whatever the uniqueness of our separate experiences might be, it dissolves as our sorrow or joy or love touches one another. This fundamental passion (of creating connection) is the reason I became a teacher and later a writer.

In a way, we are all bridge builders; the engineering feat of some mirrors the task before all of us. By what we say or do, we can bridge differences and build understanding – or not. For writers, it is through our characters and storylines that we structure our bridge. How amazing is that!

When I wrote Letting Go into Perfect Love, my focus was our collective journey. I shared aspects of my life, but only to illustrate a point or to connect with the reader’s journey. I wasn’t interested in writing a tell-all book; I was interested in illuminating a path that ultimately leads to the miraculous.

What inspires me? I’m inspired by the goodness of people—their selflessness, their generosity, their kindness. While our television networks focus on tragedy, the miraculous emerges within and around such sorrow. A simple smile from a stranger can transform our day. And so it is that when I write, I try to bridge our perceived separateness by illuminating the beauty in and around us.



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Palm Sunday, Mary did you know?

3/29/2015

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by Gwendolyn M Plano
Picture
Today Christians throughout the world pause to remember the journey to the cross. When I was a child, the passion story would so tear at my heart that I was left in mourning. I could not understand how people could be so cruel. I still don’t…

Thinking back to those Biblical times, I wonder, what has changed?

I vividly recall the birth of each of my four children. Two were in distress and I with them. When their little bodies were put into my arms, I cried tears of relief--overwhelmed by the miracle of life. I did not think about the anguish that lay in waiting for my children: the health hurdles, the financial distress, or the relational heartaches. I thought only of their beauty. But as time has passed, I now wonder: are we all destined to journey to the cross?

We may rail against the injustices of life, but we cannot escape them. Rich or poor, we struggle to make sense of it all.

There is a haunting line in the song, “Mary did you know? by Mark Lowry and Buddy Greene.  The line reads, “Mary did you know…when you kiss your little baby, you kissed the face of God.”

Have we kissed the face of God—when we kissed our newborn or someone else’s baby? Is the God we seek manifest in all of creation? Could it be that you (and he and she and they) are precious beyond our imagination? Would it make a difference, if this was the case?



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A Role Model of all that is possible in life...

3/25/2015

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by Gwendolyn M Plano
PictureHarriet Tubman
March is National Women’s History Month, a time set apart to remember the women who have helped craft the world we know today. When I pause to look back, I am in awe of their collective achievement. There is one, however, who is particularly dear to me. To introduce her to you, I need to travel back to the 1990s, for it was then that so much changed.

I was an administrator at a university in Connecticut, overseeing multiple departments and responsible for the wellbeing of all students. Overwhelmed by the associated challenges, I struggled to bring balance into my life. The needs of family, the pressures of work, and the sorrows of marital discord pulled at my heart. But then, the unexpected occurred.

A local paper ran a story about the Underground Railroad, and its Connecticut network. In this captivating article, the writer focused on Harriet Tubman, 
an extraordinary humanitarian and abolitionist during the Civil War. As I read about Harriet and her defiant strength, I thought, “If she can do that, I can certainly manage this (whatever this might be).”

I put a photo of Harriet on my desk, and whenever I met with a student or dealt with a problem she joined me. I listened with my heart attuned to a woman who had manifested the best of human achievement during the worst of human failure. Greatness is born by the choices we make in such divides, and certainly Harriet was and is an icon of such greatness.

Isn’t it amazing how we traverse centuries through a heart-felt story? I met Harriet through a newspaper article and later, books about her life. Even though time and circumstance separated us, I felt I knew her because of simple words on a page that evoked my compassion and understanding, and then helped me with decisions I had to make. 

In a few months, I’ll be visiting the Fort Hill Cemetery in upstate New York where she is buried. As my mentor of all things possible, the one who taught me about perseverance, about justice, and about faith, I look forward to placing flowers on her final earthly resting place. And I wonder, what will she say?

Time condenses when the heart is awakened. Centuries become days through a book or a story passed down by ancestors. And so it is that we find ourselves comforted and inspired by strangers who then become friends; we might even travel with them along a path to freedom.

Today the Rave Reviews Book Club is celebrating Women's History Month through a collection of blog reflections. If you have a moment, check out the stories for you might discover new friends, and perhaps you will be inclined to join! The Club was founded by author Nonnie Jules and has a membership of over 500 authors; I'm one of the proud members. 


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Map courtesy of The Connecticut Historical Society, Hartford, Connecticut
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St. Patrick's Day and the journey of life...

3/14/2015

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by Gwendolyn M Plano
My husband and I traveled to Ireland last November. The memories of its green fields dotted with sheep, coastlines rugged with mountains stretching high, remain vivid in the chambers of my heart.

I didn’t see any leprechauns on this trip. But, I didn’t look for them either. I was captivated by the beauty of the landscape – and the people.  They stole my heart and transformed my vision.

On this trip, my normally busy mind (the planner me) quieted, and I saw a world sometimes hidden from me. The Irish soda bread, the walks along the craggy terrain, the celebrative toasts with friends—opened my eyes and prompted reverie.

St. Patrick’s Day brings me back to this fall journey.

I’m reminded of my ancestors crossing the seas. Away from their birth home, away from everything familiar, they traveled in search of their hopes and dreams. Some became indentured servants, some became farmers, and a few became ministers or teachers like me.  

Don’t we all do the same—travel in search of our dreams?

Whether we have known the comforts of life or the pangs of hunger, aren’t we all charged to find our way? Isn’t that our destiny?  

The feast of St. Patrick is for me a celebration of the resilience of the human spirit, and of a man who, through faith, humility and determination, symbolically leads us even today.

Happy St. Patrick’s Day!



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Everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of the human freedoms—to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one’s own way. ―Viktor E. Frankl, Man’s Search for Meaning


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