If you respond, “a doctor,” or “a lawyer,” you’re likely to be met with responses like, “That would be excellent!” and follow-up comments about how much money you could make if you chose such a profession.

And while the intentions behind such a question and these responses will generally be good, I want you to know right up front that if you answer something like, “an artist,” “a theater actor,” “a writer,” or another profession that will not necessarily bring you such financial freedom as a doctor or lawyer might, I will be standing behind you, rooting you on – and super proud of you.

What’s more, if you choose to be a stay-at-home mom, a stay-at-home dad, a missionary or some other unpaid role, I will be super proud of you just the same.

You see, it’s not about money. The truth is, finding happiness in life is never really about money. Finding happiness in your life will come when you realize that no matter what you’re doing with your time, with your life, you’re doing it because it’s what God intended for you to do.

How will you know that you’re doing the right thing? You’ll have a passion for it. You’ll love doing it. Some days, depending on what you decide to do, you might do it for your own personal benefit, and you might even catch yourself saying, “I would do this work even if I weren’t getting paid for it.” If you’re a full-time parent, you’ll want to do nothing more than stay at home to raise your kids. You will know in your heart that that is what you were meant to do.

You have a lot of years ahead of you, and it will be much more important for you to be happy than it will be for you to be well-off financially. If you do something you enjoy and for which you have a passion, you’ll enjoy getting up in the morning. You’ll have the energy to get through your day. And you’ll be able to be present, mentally and physically, for your family when the day is done.

On the flip side, if you choose to do something just because of its financial reward, one day you might very well wake up and realize you dread going to work. It will take every ounce of your being to get through the day. You’ll lose confidence in yourself. And you’ll be miserable when the day is done. Your relationship with your spouse and your kids will suffer. And life will go downhill from there.

So, Gabe and Ella (and any future children, if God blesses us so), please know that I encourage you to follow your hearts and your true desires when choosing what to do with your lives. Don’t worry that what you choose to do will disappoint me or your father. It won’t. I promise. And never use the word “just” when describing what you do (“I’m ‘just’ a stay-at-home mom,” or “I’m ‘just’ a starving artist,” for example). Because if you’re doing something you love to do, you will do it with all of your heart, and you will be successful – and happy. And ultimately, that is what we want for you.

I love you.

- Mom

No, it wasn’t my husband. Or my son. Or my dad. It was Father John—more formally, the Rev. John P. Roof—the priest who held my attention with his infectious laugh, his sometimes-off-kilter sense of humor, and his genuine love for all mankind for the first 34 years of my life. (And then some…but he was only my “official” priest for the first 34 years.)

Father John picks up his granddaughter at his retirement reception in 2009.

Father John was the longtime rector of St. Augustine Episcopal Church in Danville, Ind., until he retired in 2009. It was at this church where I was baptized as a child, where I earned camperships to Waycross Camp in my youth and where I came running back in 2004 when I realized, after several years away, that I needed God in my life if I was going to survive tough times.

Father John performed our wedding ceremony (along with my husband’s pastor at the time, Mike Thornburg) and those of my two sisters to their husbands, baptized Gabe and Ella as wee little ones and always made us feel at home when we showed up on Sunday mornings.

He served as a reference for me when I applied for a job at Christ Church Cathedral, even though I was probably only a vague memory for him at the time. I turned that job offer down, but when I applied for another at the same church years later (this time after having returned to St. Augie’s), he put in a few good words for me. I have no doubt that his approval carried some weight. He was respected and well known in the central Indiana Episcopal community.

He remembered who I was and welcomed me back with open arms after I had spent several years away from church, without so much as a question as to why I might have left or what I was doing in those missing years. He made me feel like he was just genuinely glad to see me back. And I think he was.

One of my many fond memories of him was when he gave the kids a ride in his golf cart (lovingly nicknamed the Canterbury Chariot). Other fond memories include his many sermons (always good for a laugh, they were), his hugs at the back of the church on Sunday mornings (we all waited patiently in line each week to have a chance to say hello, share a smile and get a hug) and his retirement gathering (where I was touched by the number of people who came out to say a word of thanks to this wonderful man). It was always clear that Father John was full of love—and well loved by all who came to know him.

This is just a piece of the line at Father John’s retirement reception in 2009. The reception lasted for hours, with people lined up patiently to shake his hand, get a hug, share a story and hear his fabulous laugh.

Father John was a lovable man who was a clear picture of the love that Jesus Christ asks us all to share with the world. For years, he performed weekly church services and loved the inmates at the women’s prison. He joined gays and lesbians in commitment ceremonies because he wanted to honor their love for each other. He loved us all—no matter our backgrounds, our faults or our tendencies.

And we, the community of St. Augustine (past and present), the Danville community, the Episcopal community and so many more, loved him back.

I haven’t been a member of St. Augustine for the past two years. We left after he retired—but not because he retired. Our family simply needed to find a church home that was fitting for all of us and our changing spiritual needs—and we’re very happy where we are now. But I consider myself a part of the St. Augustine community, albeit a former one, and I am praying that God will bless each of us during this time, reminding us all of God’s peace, and helping us take comfort in knowing that He simply called Father John home.

I am praying especially for his wife Midge (who loves the St. Augie’s community as much as Father John did), his children, John, Josh and Missy, his grandkids and the rest of his family. Their hearts must feel an unimaginable ache right now. I’m praying for strength, peace and the desire to draw nearer to each other and to God in this tough, tough time.

I am thankful that the horrible disease that claimed Father John’s life took it quickly, in just a matter of days, so that Father John would not know an extended period of suffering. I have no doubt that God had a hand in that.

Those who loved Father John miss him already, and will continue to miss him, regardless of how frequently (or infrequently) we’ve seen him over the few years since his retirement. He made a mark in the world, blessing all of those with whom he came into contact. If only we could all do the same.

Lots of love to the Roof and St. Augustine church families.

This is a smile I love to see.

I wish we could see it more often.

It’s not that you are an unhappy child or that you are frequently grumpy.

You are not.

It’s just that fewer things in life seem to bring this kind of joy out of you the older you get. At 10 (almost 11) years old, you’re past the bubbly baby, talkative toddler and passionate preschooler ages. You’re no longer in elementary school, when school seemed (at least to a student) to be more about social skills than studying. (That photo above? That was taken in May 2012, during your last week of elementary school, fourth grade, on field day.)

Suddenly, you’re in fifth grade – in our town, a middle-schooler – and the stresses of everyday life are becoming all too real.

Middle school is a hard time for everyone, I think. Some girls are starting to notice boys. Some boys are starting to notice girls. Kids are becoming more judgmental of one another. Cliques begin. Gossip becomes frequent. Feelings become real.

In the last year, we’ve moved, and our new neighborhood isn’t chock full of boys who are knocking on the door asking you to play – as they were at our old house. You don’t play outside as easily or as often as you used to, and we aren’t good about inviting friends over to hang out with you.

The friends with whom you once bounced from sport to sport (baseball in spring and summer, soccer in fall, basketball in winter) are more frequently picking a single sport on which to focus. This means you no longer see them outside of school several times a week, all year long. They’re working on sport-specific skills all year, growing stronger and more competitive, meaning you’re no longer always one of the best players on the team. (And that’s more than OK; it’s good for you, in fact. But it’s definitely a change from what you’ve known so far in life.)

This year, you’re in a new school building, with new teachers who have widely varying expectations of you. You’ve been thrust into the middle of what our school system has dubbed “the pilot program,” the all-out, no-holds-barred implementation of mass customized learning, a brand-new way of learning, of teaching students, of spending your allotted math time at school, of focusing, of studying, of being accountable for your own work pace, of setting your own homework schedule.

That’s a lot of change. And it’s a lot to ask of a 10-year-old, especially one with a gentle heart and sensitive spirit, like you. We know that. We understand that. And we expect it to affect your energy level, your motivation – your smile.

But, Gabe, you’re doing great.
You’re confident.
You’re smart.
You’re friendly.
You’re social.
You’re funny.
You’re well behaved.
You’re learning.
You’re rolling with the punches.
You’re making new friends.
You’re learning to focus.
You’re learning to work hard.
You’re coming into your own.
You’re becoming a glimpse of the man you will become.

And I’m really proud of you.

Love,
Mom

This layout, until about a week ago, was as far as I got with that album that I thought would be so important for my kids – but never made time to put together. (Notice the date? Yep, Jan. 1, 2011 – two years ago. Oy.)

Now that I’ve decided to get the album started with the journaling here on my blog (and worry about scrapbooking part later), I thought it was fitting to share that first layout, and the journaling included within it, in my archives, hoping one day my children will actually read these posts. Maybe at least they will find all of my thoughts in one place.

So, without further ado…

Note that we no longer live in what is labeled here as “our current house,” and we did not move to where we thought “our future house” would be!

Journaling from the layout:

When I was a teenager in high school living in Danville, I swore I would leave this town and never come back. The truth is, I hated being from a small town. I felt sheltered, life seemed boring, and I had bigger dreams than this town could handle.

But a funny thing happened. I moved to Bloomington for college (Indiana University), and I loved it. It had more cultural opportunities than I had ever been exposed to. I interacted with people from a variety of cities, states, countries, economic backgrounds and races. It was an interesting place to be. Life wasn’t boring anymore. And I had all of the opportunities in the world to learn and expand my horizons in preparation for a new career that I knew I would love. I felt like I was part of a bigger society there, and I loved it in many ways.

But the truth is, it was a little lonely. I was dating Chad, and we were together on the weekends. He came to Bloomington, or I would go to Terre Haute (where he was a student at Indiana State University), or we would go home to Danville. Life was good between him and me, but outside of that, we didn’t get to know a ton of people. I had a few good friends at IU, but I didn’t make a ton of close friends. My roommate was a good friend, but she was gone on the weekends, too. I was involved in a few activities, was active in my classes and always had jobs there, so I knew plenty of people, but all in all, it was just me and Chad.

So with all of the opportunities in a larger town, with tons of interesting people from different backgrounds, lots of little unique shops and restaurants and tons of artsy things to do within a very short distance of where I lived, it was still a bit of a lonely place to be. I guess I didn’t really feel that way while I was there; I was happy at the time, I suppose. But in hindsight, I think I overestimated the benefit of living in a bigger city.

When Chad and I got married, we moved to Greenwood, a town with more to do than Danville, for sure. Everything was close to our apartment—my job, the grocery, the mall, the movie theater, plenty of places to get our everyday-life kinds of things like oil changes and daily errands taken care of. And sure, there were tons of people close by. We occasionally invited friends over. We still had our social time. And we had tons of time together, getting to know each other better and spending time with our families (who lived in Danville and Avon) when we had a chance. But really, it was just Chad and me.

We longed for something more. We wanted to be closer to family, and we wanted to grow our own family, too. We slowly began to realize the importance of the people—more than the things, more than the activities, more than the opportunities—in our lives. And the people we loved were not in Greenwood. We decided to move back to Danville when our apartment lease was up.

A year after we got married and graduated from college, we moved back to our home town, our small little town we realized we had loved all along. I believe it was the best decision we made as a couple.

Here, we feel at home. Sure, we have to drive a little while to get to shopping destinations or restaurants or live theater. But within a very short distance, we have lots of people who make our lives rich. We have neighbors we love and trust, and with whom the kids enjoy playing. We have family nearby: my mom, my younger sister and her family, Chad’s mom and Chad’s older brother and his family. And we have lots of friends.

The older I get, the more I cherish those friendships. These are people who love us for who we are—not because they feel like they have to, just because they want to be in our lives, to get to know us, to share their time with us.

It’s hard to live in a small town and not make friends, especially with kids who are active in sports and school. We have made tons of friends since we have moved back. We have friends who are (or were) neighbors. We have friends whose kids played with our kids on soccer and baseball and basketball teams. We have friends whose kids went to preschool with our kids. We have friends who enjoy the same hobbies as we do. We have friends we’ve made through church. And we still have friends from high school who have also moved back to Danville, many of whom have kids of their own. The best part is, we know these friendships will last. Many of us have chosen Danville as our forever home, and we can count on these friends being close by, sharing in our lives through school, sports, game nights and good old-fashioned camaraderie.

We love living in Danville because we feel like we are part of a living, active community. We can’t go to the grocery store, a school function, the Mexican restaurant we love , a baseball game, the local movie theater or the park without running into someone we know. We say hi, share a smile and leave feeling happy to know we’re a part of this town. Knowing our neighbors and being aware of what’s going on in so many people’s lives leaves us feeling safe and happy. We look out for each other. If we’re feeling down, we have people to lift us up, and vice versa. We might not be able to leave the house in our pajamas and know no one will see us, but that’s OK with me. I’d rather be part of a community than totally anonymous living in this big world. And when the urge strikes to experience something more, we can drive to many of the opportunities (arts, restaurants, unique shops) that Danville can’t offer.

G&E, you will no doubt at some point dislike this town as you go through school. You will be irritated that everyone knows your business­—who you date, how you break up, who your friends are, what you got on that tough exam. But try to focus on the positives. You’ll develop friendships you will treasure forever. When you get that bad grade on that tough exam, or when you break up with that boyfriend or girlfriend you thought you loved so much, you’ll have friends who will know you as well as you know yourself and will make you feel better. And you’ll have family close by; you can come to any of us at any time. You’ll never be alone.

Someday you might want to move out of town and get a taste for living in a city with more opportunities. If you get that itch, follow it. You need to follow your heart and experience the wider world for yourself. But I hope that someday later on, you’ll realize how much you have here in this little town. You might move back, and you might not. Whatever you do, remember that this community took you in with open arms and will always be here for you. Your dad and I will always be here, too. And even if you never have a home of your own in Danville, you will always have a home with us.

Love,

Mom

January 1, 2011

Some of what I want to share includes stories – stories that show your dad and I are not perfect, stories of our family traditions, stories of events in our lives that have developed us into who we are.

Some of what I want to share is advice. Learn to forgive. Follow your dreams. Don’t burn bridges.

And while I believe those stories and those nuggets of advice are important, I want you to focus on one very important thing as we get started with these letters from me to you. That one thing?

I love you.

(Your dad does, too. Never doubt that. But because I’m the one writing this, it’s more natural for me to write down my genuine feelings if I can write using “I” and “me” instead of “your dad and I” and “your dad and me” and “we.” Just know that your dad feels the same way I do.)

It’s almost impossible for me to fully explain to you how much I love you, how deep my love exists within my heart, my soul, my very being.

You two (and any future children, should God bless us so) are the reason I am here.

I know that God’s biggest purpose for my life is to be your mother, to do things mothers do – like
hug you when you’re hurting,
encourage you when you’re struggling,
guide you when you’re choosing,
teach you when you’re misbehaving,
reassure you when you’re doubting,
coach you when you’re competing,
congratulate you when you’re succeeding,
comfort you when you’re crying
– and love you when you feel like no one else does.

It’s an amazing responsibility, really, and I thank God for trusting me with it.

Since the day we knew we were expecting you, I felt the power of love on a level I had never experienced before – even greater than what I feel for your daddy (and that’s an intense love!).

Don’t worry that I said that aloud; I think he would agree with me and say the same.

There’s just something about the children one brings into her heart, home and family that makes her love grow larger, deeper, stronger. It’s a different, more intense kind of love than I have for anyone else on the planet.

So listen carefully. Understand the words I am about to say, and never doubt them. Never.

There is nothing you could ever do, say, think or feel that will ever, ever, cause me to not love you. Nothing.

If you tell me you’ve done something bad, I could get angry.
If you tell me you have said something that is harmful to someone else, I will be blatantly honest and tell you how that reflects back on you.
If you tell me you have dark thoughts, I will be concerned.
If you tell me you feel hatred toward someone, even if it’s me, I’ll be hurt and disappointed.

But I will still love you.

Some day you will do something stupid.

You might wreck my car the day after you get your driver’s license.
You might hurt someone unintentionally – or intentionally.
You might try something you know is wrong.

But I will still love you.

You’re human, and as all humans do, you have a sin nature. God designed you that way. I accepted that you’re not perfect long before you could make whatever mistakes you might make. I already know you’re going to mess up. (Try not to, of course, but don’t beat yourself up or be ashamed to acknowledge it when you do.)

Please, please, please, come to me when things go wrong. Tell me about it. Be honest. Confess. Take responsibility. And don’t be afraid that doing so will cause me to not love you anymore.

I will always love you.

You might wonder how I’ll react when you do something other than make a mistake or do something wrong.

You might fall in love with someone and wonder if I’ll accept him or her with open arms.

I will.

You might choose to move to another state – or even another country – and wonder if I will accept that choice.

I will.

You might choose to join the military, be a missionary in a dangerous land or follow your heart into dangerous work – and wonder if I will accept that choice.

I will.

You can tell me anything. You can be honest. You can be you.

I am here for you, no matter what.

I will encourage you, no matter what.

I will love you, no matter what.

I promise.

(And for the record, God will always love you, too. But that’s a topic for another day.)

***

Letters to My Children is a regular series on my blog. To quickly find more installments, click on the links in the right column.

Photo credit: Connie Phillips

A pleasant thought, I know.

I have always thought I would make a scrapbook full of all of this kind of “stuff” to tell them, but somehow I haven’t gotten very far with that. I’ve made one layout (why we live in the town we live in) – and it wasn’t even one of my more deep-from-the-heart kinds of subjects that I long to share.

Why have I been dragging my feet?

I’d love to blame it on lack of time or being so busy with all of my friends and family and the unbelievably fun stuff we do every minute of every day that I can’t possibly have time for something like this. But that wouldn’t exactly be true.

After all, I find time to take at least one, if not two, naps every weekend. I find time to read a little bit of a book each day. I find lots of time to wander around Facebook during the week. I even find time to watch an episode of “The Big Bang Theory” every couple of nights, or an episode of “Property Brothers” or some other HGTV goodness on my lunch hour, despite not really liking to watch TV in general. I could easily be using that time for this kind of task. But clearly, I don’t.

I guess it’s just that it’s kind of hard to share what is so deep within my soul, even though I write for a living and typically don’t struggle much with getting thoughts down on paper.

Well, I’m aiming to change that. I’m going to make time to journal what is important for my kids, even if I don’t take the time to make a pretty little layout for a nicely composed scrapbook that will sit neatly on the shelf in my home for years to come.

And you, dear readers, will be my first audience.

My kids? Well, I hope that they’ll come back to this old blog (or some futuristic manifestation of the content found within it) some day and find it somewhat interesting to learn what their mom thought was so important in life. But if they don’t, well, I don’t want to think about that, really.

So, Gabe and Ella, and any future children (if God chooses to bless us so), enjoy these posts. And if I’ve long departed the earth by the time you read them, know your mama loved you with all of her heart and soul.

Stay tuned, kind readers. We’ll get started soon.

Journaling for a scrapbook page to be made sometime in the future…

Our daughter Ella turns 8 in less than a week. And what a joy-filled, fast-as-lightning eight years it has been!

This little girl has a strong personality, an infectious giggle and a huge heart.

She loves to draw, write love notes to her dad and me, and give hugs and kisses.

She can’t wait to sit in a car without needing a booster seat.

She wears some of the funkiest outfits, mixing bold colors and wild patterns without any care in the world. Greenish-gray camo pants and multi-colored butterfly sweatshirt? Whatever works.

I love that (generally speaking) she doesn’t care what others think about her style.

She has more style than I have ever had.

She is sassy, sweet and stubborn.

Her favorite color is pink, followed by purple. But pink rules, hands down.

She is having an animal-print birthday party. (Picture zebra cake and balloons.)

She loves animals, especially our cat Jack. (Our other cats, Lucy and Cole, and our dog, Maddie, for some reason haven’t quite captured her heart as much as Jack.)

She chose to have several friends spend the night instead of going somewhere for her birthday. Wise choice, my dear.

I worry a little that she is too bossy around her friends. She likes to be in charge and do what she wants to do. That’s a hard personality trait to soften in an 8-year-old. (Oy.)

She wants to be a big sister.

She has a heart for God. I love that about her.

She asks me hard questions about God on a regular basis. (What does God look like? I don’t understand: If God created everything on earth, who created God?)

She wants to go to heaven some day, just for a visit, to visit family members (and our old dog, Molly) who have died, and to see what God looks like, but then come back to earth and live like normal.

When I was crying recently, she wrote me a note saying simply: “God is always with you. I love you. Love, Ella.”

I’ll keep that one forever, I think.

She loves to organize things, but her bedroom is a complete disaster on a daily basis.

She gets that from me. You should see my office. Oy.

She loves to read. And when she reads out loud, she blows me away with her fluency, voice fluctuation and character personality.

I love to listen to her read.

I get to go into her classroom once a week to help her teacher with literacy stations. She loves it when she gets put into my group for the day. I love it too.

She has yet to read a chapter book from start to finish on her own, I think. She loves to start them, and has dozens in her room, but finishing one eludes her so far. I can’t wait for her to find the joy in finishing a book she starts. I think she’ll enjoy reading even more.

Her favorite TV show is “Good Luck, Charlie.” She occasionally likes to watch her old favorite, “Max and Ruby,” as well. But she worries that none of her other friends like that show, so maybe she shouldn’t either. This is her weakness when it comes to peer pressure. Clothing and personal style is her strength. (Who cares what anyone else thinks?) What she likes to watch on TV is her weakness. (None of my other friends like “Max and Ruby.”)

She loves to dance around the house. Loves to be in shorts and a tank top, even in winter, and dance until her heart is content – with or without music playing.

She’s getting a “real” scrapbook (an expensive one, relatively speaking, that will hold lots and lots of pages) for her birthday, a present she picked out. Makes this momma proud. (Also makes me want to get back into scrapbooking, my long-lost hobby!)

She’s waiting in bed for me to come and tuck her in. It’s time to go read with her from One-Minute Devotions for Girls, a book she picked out and that she loves to read each night. Time for my goodnight chat with my girl, sure to be full of questions. Time for my goodnight hug. Sounds like a good reason to sign off. Good night.

Yep, I said that out loud. In public. For the world to see.

Today, Becky Higgins and Cathy Zielske posted on Facebook a link to a Studio 5 production called “Is Scrapbooking Dead?” that will air tomorrow, Wednesday, Nov. 14. My gut reaction, as sad as it makes me, is, “Yeah, I think it’s close.”

Somehow, I don’t think Becky, in particular, would agree. (And frankly, I hope I’m wrong.)

You see, Becky Higgins pioneered a new way of memory keeping for one-time scrapbookers who were faced with the challenge of having little time to scrap. It’s called Project Life. It sounds great in theory, and honestly, the product is beautiful.

But here’s the problem.

Project Life requires very little product – and all of the product is available from one source: Becky herself. Becky’s popularity within the scrapbooking industry is admirable. There’s hardly a scrapbooker out there – at least anyone who has been scrapping since Becky’s days at Creating Keepsakes magazine – who doesn’t know Becky’s name.

Basically, the important part about that statement is that there is very little need for Becky to pay for advertising, because other scrapbookers the world over are promoting her site on their own blogs and in their publications.

But advertising is what drives this creativity-inspired industry.

Project Life’s simplistic view of scrapbooking – and the resulting lesser need for the stickers, specialty papers, fibers, stamps, die cuts, die-cut machines, adhesives, albums, page protectors, buttons, beads, embossing inks, border punches, standard punches, idea books and other must-haves paper scrapbookers have used for years – could very well be contributing to the problem of a dying artistic scrapbooking industry.

Without demand for products, product manufacturers’ businesses will fail. When the scrapbooking product lines can’t survive, neither can the advertising-driven magazines. When the magazines started dying a few years ago (Simple Scrapbooks, Digital Scrapbooking Magazine, Better Homes & Gardens’ Scrapbooks Etc.), I’m afraid, so did people’s (mine included) regular, predictable, delivered-to-your-door, don’t-have-to-hunt-for-it-online stream of inspiration. When inspiration dies, so does the industry.

I was once a twice-weekly scrapper, but I haven’t scrapbooked in months. I have completed fewer layouts this entire year than I would have done in a month or less a year or two ago. It’s not for a lack of time. I have more free time, likely, than I did a couple of years ago. And it’s not for a lack of interest in the art form. I absolutely love creating layouts that capture stories, photos and memories. LOVE IT. But I don’t have that hard-copy inspiration source in my hand every night as I fall asleep. I used to subscribe to four scrapbook magazines. Only one survives. I have to supplement that with other reading materials (other magazines and novels) to make it through the month or two before my next scrapbook magazine arrives, which means that during a large chunk of the month, I ‘m not getting my daily dose of scrappin’ inspiration. And while it’s true that there are plenty of inspiration sources online – blogs, Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest – I find that I rarely take the time to sit in front of a screen simply to find inspiration. It’s just not the same as shutting down mentally and flipping through a magazine as I relax before falling asleep at night. It’s just not the same.

Before I go, I do want to acknowledge that digital scrapbooking also uses fewer products than traditional ones – but there are still many designers and many products being produced on a daily basis. I am hopeful that someone out there will find a way to create a business model that will thrive on inexpensive advertisements from digital designers, who are making very little income on their designs (largely because so many designers offer so many freebies, that many digital scrapbookers do not pay for the design elements they use…another problem to tackle on a different day). In the meantime, I’m hopeful that each of you reading this will make a trip to your local scrapbook store or digital design shoppe and buy something to support this industry we all love…and then share with me what you feel about the future of the scrapbooking industry.

What do you think? Is scrapbooking dead?

My husband just finished a week of playing Drill Sergeant Willgo at Vacation Bible School at our church. It was a little bit of a stretch for him, mainly because he was tasked with talking to the kids about Jesus, sharing the Gospel each night with 30 young people. It was a little nerve-racking for him at first, but he did it, and it was awesome.

Supplies:

• Sergeant Willgo, BOOT Camp logo and camouflage artwork: Truth Quest VBS materials
• Fonts: Stencil (title) and Gill Display Compressed (journaling)

Here’s my first profile:

If you know of anyone who might be interested in this service I provide, please contact me at corie (at) corie communications (dot) com or (317) 745-6873. I will have my main business website updated soon with more information!