Learning to Give: What is Service? What is Generosity?

Posted on December 3, 2013 by shanathornton

My seven-year old daughter asked me about “service.” What does it mean “to serve others,” “to be generous,” as in helping others and giving back… I told her these types of definitions, but she still didn’t fully understand, even when I provided examples from our life. I decided to use the month of December to teach her about service by showing her examples myself and allowing her to help when she can. Each day, she learns about another type of giving and/or service. In some instances, she can contribute or participate, while for others, she can only learn about it (like serving food at a shelter since she isn’t old enough to participate).

That first day, I had already put a couple dollars from my pocket in the Salvation Army bucket, so I allowed it to “count” as Day 1, even if that meant Zoe only learned the concept and began applying it the next day (on Day 2, she put money in the bucket for herself).

For Day 2, I chose something simple. I was already making purchases for my nephews on CyberMonday. Zoe helped me choose their gifts and we added a small donation to Marine Toys for Tots. We talked about that organization and what they do for children. Her observation about Day 2: “Donating money is easy if you have some to donate.” We talked about other ways to help others, like donating your time and/or skills or talents.

For Day 3, Zoe wrapped presents for children and took them to her school, where teachers and school officials put together care packages of food and toys for local families in need. She enjoyed wrapping the presents, and they were a mess! of wrapping paper, but we got them wrapped without the gifts peeking through the paper.

This type of giving started a discussion about gender-defined toys. The school asked us to label the toys for boys or girls and list an appropriate age. We were going to label the volcano-making kit and science toys as boy’s—Ah! in a flash, we realized what we started to do. This was a perfect mistake to use as a way to talk about gender-defining conformities and assumptions. “Yeah, ’cause Lava Girl would want that volcano-making kit.” We circled both girl or boy, so the teahers can decide which child, girl or boy, would enjoy it the most. We did the same for most of the gifts she donated.

On the way to school, Zoe said, “I can donate some of my stuff I don’t want anymore.” I explained my plan to do exactly that for some other organizations that take used items and resell them or give them away. She already makes Goodwill and AMVETS donations with us sometimes, so she understood. I was relieved to know that she was already thinking of more ways to give.

One of our conversations was about giving a lot versus giving a little. On Day 2, Zoe asked why I didn’t give more money to Toys for Tots. I explained that some people do choose an organization and donate a lot of money and/or time to that one organization. And, by a lot of money or time, I explained to her that I mean “a lot” in reference to what they have to give, not what other people define as “a lot”. It’s not a comparison or competition. I choose to give a little here and a little there. I spread out my giving, especially right now, as I want her to see the different ways to give and the variety of organizations and opportunities that are out there to help others.

I’ll update my blog throughout this month with the ways we give and/or serve others, the observations we make about ourselves and others, and the organizations and people who inspire us with their generosity.

Grunt & Haul for Big Mama– A Gratitude Run

Posted on November 23, 2013 by shanathornton

My expressions of gratitude happen everyday when I run–for the many taken-for-granted gifts of my life. I also say a special thank you for running–that I am free to run, able to run with my body, given the time to run, allowing my mind the space to run, and provided the safe, public places to run in the forest.

But, my highest gratitude is often reserved for the hill I call Big Mama. She teaches me more frequently than any person, book, animal, or event. She’s more than a hill–she’s an entity– her forest. Running Big Mama takes everything I have. She keeps going even when you think the hill has got to stop with the next stride. Even after you’ve curved past the bench and surmounted a second small hill tucked into the top of Big Mama, the hill rises into a cedar grove and finally, after about a full 4-minute climb, lets go of you on the rocky path littered with tree roots and fallen leaves. As if the height, rocks, and roots weren’t enough to make you do some serious thinking, the airflow is completely banished on the hill, like she has permanently shut the window. On the most humid days, she wears wool.

The photo doesn’t give you the full effect of the climb or slipperiness at times.

To me, Big Mama has a baby on her hip, and you need to dig your toes along the side of the trail to climb the next hill without rocks rolling underneath your feet and slipping you up. That “baby hill” will cause you to pop your chin on the ground while going up (it only seems like a baby hill when compared to Big Mama), and at the very least, baby will make your palms sting if you climb it enough times. Afterward, it’s a jarring downhill stroll, like your toddler makes, plummeting quickly. You’ll hammer all your joints in place.

I call the third hill Big Mama’s daughter. She begins with lovely dogwoods, fern-filled rolling ravines, and a wiggly path with refreshing winds, but then the pitch becomes steep and you climb the path like stairs and hop roots to the top. Weary–it’s time to twist and slide across the big stones, down, down, down to the flat path until climbing those hills again.

Big Mama and her daughters teach me about empowerment. Though I’m exhausted by running miles along her trails, I’ve learned what it means to be weak and strong, to be relieved of my anxieties, to be open to possibilities.
When I run, I’m the most receptive to everything in life. I’m open to my mistakes, to correcting my relationships, looking at the challenges I face and the miles I’ve come to accomplish what I choose to be my goals. While I lose sweat and energy, I gain courage and understanding.

Even as I don’t think I can do it again, I return to the foot of the hill. I can’t see more than her magnificence and height rising above me at that moment–I can’t see all that she sees and knows, not until I climb as high as my legs will carry me on the trail. And yet, there’s all that story beneath my feet, where I must look to keep my balance. So many stories to tell from the plants and animals and stones and minerals and water that make up the path–it’s place & movement that allow the imagination to grunt and haul a story into being.

The hill lets me know that right away.
I only forget it in being lost in the trails’ stories.

Dreams, Shame, Perseverance, & Sharing the Story

Posted on October 10, 2013 by shanathornton

The first (and only) teaching job I took for secondary education ended abruptly for a variety of reasons, but mainly, I knew that teaching junior high and high school wasn’t for me. I knew it before I ever stepped foot in the classroom when I was discouraged from choosing female-based narratives that were in the curriculum. I was told quite bluntly by the chair of the department, “No one relates to stories told by a woman or a girl. Not even the girls relate.” She (yes, that’s right, the chair was a woman) went on to say that the students just sit there–no one talks–so I should pick from the male authors.

I now stand in the middle of this publishing endeavor I’ve begun and try to steady my feet. Most of the time, I’m literally running and setting ideas in motion, all of which relate to female-based narratives. Lately, I’ve been thinking about my orbits more than usual, watching how quickly they manifest into more orbits, and analyzing how my patterns affect the creativity of other authors and artists, editors and graphic artists… and now, a sound engineer.

On the eve of the Southern Festival of Books, I took a long look back at the women who inspired the courage and tenacity, the fighting spirit to create outside of the industry’s model. And, this work definitely requires tough skin. I don’t have it, really…I just won’t be stopped. I keep going no matter what because I believe in the mission to make the work of women authors available, to give those authors fair royalties, and to create a partnership with them that gives voice to their work in the way that they envision.

My voice was damaged during junior high by a humiliating experience of religious and social bullying that spilled into my education–completely shamed and denigrated, I promised myself that I would never do that to someone else, that I would strive to empower my friends and family members, and that I would support them in their dreams whenever possible. Of course, this promise I made wasn’t always reciprocated or even appreciated, but I wasn’t going to stop trying. I seek out opportunities that allow me to fulfill my promise to my previously wounded self.

Luckily, I found unbelievable partners and teammates in Terry Morris (my husband and now, business manager), Beverly Fisher (the first author to publish under Thorncraft’s imprint), and Kitty Madden (Thorncraft’s editor). These three people put their trust in my talents and vision, as I sought to show the world our work.

Moments of complete exasperation and desperation have plagued my emotions during the tasks that felt particularly sweaty and even bloody (metaphorical paper cuts will getcha & can turn into all-out paperwork warfare). Yet, I have persevered until we are taking new steps–recording audio books for our titles, getting Lightning Source distribution in motion, and signing another author.

All of this causes a wash of gratitude for the women in my past who read & appreciated books and shared that with me. The influences of these women motivate me even today–my Mom who tried to purchase enough books to satisfy me from the time I was a child through college; my aunt Nancy & her love of biographies; my aunt Julie and her joy for Emily Dickinson (yes, joy for Dickinson–I know, right? joy is a tough sell for Emily, but that is exactly what my aunt has always expressed); my high school friends who skipped some kind of senior class meeting with me to read “Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard” and talk about poetry for English class; Ms. Mallernee and her love of English literature, her contagious penmanship, and her demand for recitation; Jill Eichhorn & her knowledge of literature by and about women; Dr. Christian who became my teaching mentor & allowed me to enjoy teaching adults, & she taught me to savor the short story; Christy O’Brien and her penchant for both creepy books and self-help titles; Diane McLain & her encouragement to be a rebel all while reading science fiction; and last, but certainly not least, Rita Yerrington, who reads more library books than anyone I know, and her unwavering faith in the power of pure determination. (<–I adore that long, stringy sentence dedicated to women) These women are intelligent and unique. I'm so grateful for the inspiration they provided to me, for it continues to manifest in the lives of so many other women.

I'm eager to continue creating new work and look forward to telling you about our new author and new title in the coming days.
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Don’t miss it:
We’ll be at the Southern Festival of Books this weekend, October 11-13, in Downtown Nashville at the War Memorial Plaza. Free event.
Friday: noon-6 p.m.
Saturday: 9 a.m.-6 p.m.
Sunday: noon-5 p.m.

Visit us at the Thorncraft Publishing booth. Both Beverly and I will be signing books.

Writing on the Wall–Mom’s Creative Freedom

Posted on September 21, 2013 by shanathornton

Today is the last day that Zoe will be six years old.

Three years ago, we started a drawing on her wall. My first inclination was to control the drawing. She wanted a fairy, and I would oblige with a “good” drawing. She could sit back and watch me draw the fairy and I would let her color the wings….that was the plan. As I started to draw, I noticed her restraint and control–she tried to suppress her desire to draw something on her own, separate from me. I knew she was struggling with whether or not it was okay for her to draw on the walls. I had a choice—be controlling or offer creative freedom.

After all, I reasoned, these are my walls in a home that we own. No, I corrected myself, these are Zoe’s walls in a home that we own. I walked out of the room and into my office, which is also in our house, and retrieved a permanent marker for her. I explained that she couldn’t write on any other walls of the house, but she could do whatever she wanted in her own room. Some parents will cringe at the freedom I have given to Zoe. Freedom to paint, color, draw, or stick whatever she wants on her walls. Yes, whatever she wants!

And, this is what she (along with me, her Dad, her baby sister, and her more courageous friends) have created in the past 3 years. Surprisingly, most of Zoe’s friends would NOT write on the walls, even when I assured them that they could. Almost as if Santa or some invisible, parental force watched them, the girls look around nervously, like this creative freedom is a trick.

Creative freedom and simplicity mean so much more to me than anything formal, organized, and coordinated. It has been therapeutic for all of us. The baby scribbles. I retreat and draw roses, daffodils, and a flower garden when I feel anxiety or sadness. At bedtime, we sit on the bed and draw, draw, draw.

My heart wilted when Zoe recently said that she wants to paint her room in the next few months. She’s growing up, and wants “plain colors.” I was terrified that she’d want taupe or sand or some other faded, muted, dulled color like I, and most people, have shrouding the living room. But, she said, “I want to paint the top half red and the bottom half, purple.” I’ll still miss drawing on her walls when the time comes for me to grow up with my daughter.