Last year I got to work with a church group wanting to create a book for Lent by drawing on congregation members and their friends to produce a collection of meditations to accompany that 40-day journey toward the cross. Doing that introduced me to Sam Van Eman, who in turn connected with me with other writers linked with The High Calling. I’d already stumbled across this site, but interaction with Sam encouraged further attention to its crew.
Among their number was Charity Singleton, and I began to read her blog. I liked her honest dealings with a range of life experience; I appreciated the gracious demeanor that wafted through her posts. We talked about her writing for Letters to Me and she was interested, especially since it led her to consider a time in life that touched on themes still important: work, groundedness, where God is in the mix. Needless to say, her piece fit really well in the book.
So as we get close to the roll-out of LTM, I put the same three questions to Charity I’ve been asking of other contributors, and here’s what she had to say:
If you met yourself ten years ago, where would you be?
Ten years ago, I would be attending graduate school, teaching Freshman English, and hating it. Ten years ago was another one of the turning points in my life when I realized a dream of mine was never going to happen. Not because it was impossible, but because I had woken up and started dreaming something else.
What comment from a mentor has stuck with you?
“Don’t count the minutes. Make the minutes count.” It was a silly phrase that my Junior High English teacher used to say, but he was a mentor for years after that, and I never forgot what he was trying to teach us. In fact, as a cancer survivor, I have clung to those words with intensity. Every minute is a gift. I don’t wish away any of them, or at least I try not to. What “counts” is living each minute as it’s given. Even if what I’m given is hard or boring. Mr. Puckett would be amazed that his trite saying would have impacted me so deeply. (Maybe I should write and tell him.)
Is there something from your teen years you would not ‘do over’?
I loved my teen years. I don’t think I would do any of it over. Well, maybe I wouldn’t pine away over unrequited love. No, actually, I think I would! I think in the moments immediately after difficult or awkward times, we have regrets and wish for do overs. But maturity has brought acceptance for me. I see it all as part of the plan.