My guest today is Charlene Baumbich, a new writing friend who is from one of my home states, Illinois. Poor girl decided that getting food poisoning might be interesting. So she wrote this while suffering. Which tells me that her books are worth reading! If her writing it this good when she’s feeling so miserable. Here’s Charlene:

“I remember my mom sharing her memories of the way my grandmother cranked the engine on the front of their old car. Although I never witnessed such an event, I sure don’t doubt it. Grandma was Strong in body and Strong in determination. I can picture her carrot red hair flying up and down with every turn, her freckles a blur.

Grandma could plant crops; milk cows; guide us through the process, hands-buttery-slick, of making homemade popcorn balls; ring a chicken’s neck; bake bread; and sing Casey Jones with her own unique gusto as grandchildren sat on her lap, all of us rocking in her front porch rocker to the beat.

Mother to two daughters, grandma suffered the trial of one daughter’s mental illness, and the death of her “baby,” my mom, at only age 56. (I miss you, Mom.) To this day, I cannot see a row of colorful Hollyhocks without thinking of Grandma’s old farm and the vigorous way she loved. (I miss you, Grandma.)

My mom weathered at least four miscarriages. Her five-year diaries serve as cryptic shorthand to denote the actual days of possible conception (“X”), the good news when she “saw the doctor today. Baby!” and a scarcity of words to express her once again breaking heart. “Lost another one.”

She shot a fox in our basement to spare him from further damage to himself, dumped a punch bowl on the head of a women she deemed dancing a little too close and friendly with my dad, and drove the delivery truck for his new business when she was nine months pregnant with my brother.

I come from a line of women made of true grit and bountiful grace. Their strength to deal with life as it came, and to keep on keepin’ on—through the drama, the trauma and the tears—flows through my veins. This is a good thing to remember when I set in whining about how irritating it is they again forgot the hot sauce in our carry-out dinner, or moaning when I feel hopelessly behind in my word count. Sissy troubles. Charlene, STOP the whining, CROP the negativity, and ROLL with the punches. You are made of better stuff than this!

They were not perfect women. They messed up, lost their temper and fell short, just like the rest of us. But the strongest thing these women modeled was how to laugh at life, even when life dealt them the no-goods. What they dwelt on was Jesus’ excellent advise: concentrate on what is good. In the end, they always found the strength and paradigm-shifting wisdom to throw back their head and laugh.

Wallowing in self pity is not strength; it is life robbing.
So thank you, Grandma, Mom. Thank you for daring to be no more or less than who you really were: your own, true, loving and laughing selves. My new book, Don’t Miss Your Life!: An Uncommon Guide to Living with Freedom, Laughter and Grace, would not be what it is without your witness.


Peace and grins in the midst of food poisoning. I’m sure I’ll laugh about this–one day. ;>)”–Charlene

I don’t know about the rest of you but I think the punch bowl story is the best I’ve heard in a while! Whoa! That would have been something to witness.

Drop by Charlene’s website and see all the many books she has written. And it’s a FUN website. You’ll enjoy it. Trust me.–Lyn