Happiness

I am in a fortunate position these days. Because I’ve interviewed lots of authors on fallible, I’m now being sent TONS of free books by any number of publishers.

Sometimes, the publisher will send the books without asking and without the expectation that I’ll blog about the story or even post a review on Amazon. Other times, the author’s publicist will contact me, to ask me if I’d be interested in helping get the word out about a certain title.

Nancy Moser’s publicist obviously doesn’t know that we are VERY EXTREMELY CLOSE friends. But that doesn’t matter. When she asked if I’d like an advance copy of a book slated to come out in the fall, John 3:16, I jumped at the chance.

Now, right in the middle of this post, I’m going to tell you a little story. When Doug and I were in Switzerland last summer for Kevin’s graduation, we took a cable car straight up a mountain in Interlaken.

You may or may not know this about me, but I am subject to small bouts of anxiety. Like when I’m near a body of water larger than a jetted tub, or going through the Flint Hills of Kansas and have gotten too far from the safety of that nice Hardee’s travel center, or anywhere (um, Ireland, can you hear me now?) where there’s not a public bathroom.

I also have panic attacks with some regularity in cars on plain old highways, but you really don’t want to know about all that, do you? Or about when I have meltdowns in my kitchen, when I’m exploding eggs? I didn’t think so.

Anyway, cable cars which frequent steep mountains, as you might have guessed, are NOT my favorite thing. But Doug had dreamed of doing this precise thing the moment we found ourselves in Interlaken, and you know, that fellow can be so darned persistent.

Besides, if he croaked and I—-because I had the wisdom and foresight to remain on terra firma—-lived, I would not be overjoyed. I’d be furious with him posthumously, which isn’t too fair, and would likely contribute overly much to my anxiety quotient. Weighing out the pros and cons, I decided I’d rather kick with him than watch the disaster play out from the ground without him.

I’m just sayin’.

So we got in our car, which was hooked onto, by the sketchiest definition of the word hooked, a number of additional cars. All filled with cheerful riders, thrilled no doubt—-folks who thrive on the rickety, clacking sound of a machine on the very brink of careening into the abyss below.

Doug and I were joined by an Indian family of parents, a small girl, and a boy of about ten years of age. The parents spoke no English, but pleasantly smiled as if they were blissfully confident about their eternal destination. The girl was darling and shy, and only marginally afraid. But the boy—-who spoke English better than ever I have—-was friendly and gregarious and having the absolute time of his life.

For the sake of the little girl, I determined not to freak out, but dear Lord, was I ever losing it on the inside. I clutched Doug and clung to every bar and rail available—-and there weren’t many. My weak mental constitution was not lost on the lad, who could not stop laughing at my dilemma. After we’d been creaking up the mountain for too many minutes and I had dedicated my life and death completely to Jesus yet again, I finally turned to the boy and said, “I’m fine, really. I’m even kind of happy.”

I’ll never forget what he said next, because it was one of the most wonderfully profound things I’ve ever heard.

“I’m all the way happy.”

That settled things for me. I realized right then that there are moments in life when we just need to give it up and be all the way happy. Do you know exactly how far happy that is? I’ve decided to stop trying to quantify it. Just be all the way happy——what can it hurt?

Which brings me to Nancy’s book. I opened it a few minutes ago, and lo and behold, she’d written the dedication to ME. I don’t remember telling her about the Indian boy, but I must have. For in her dedication, she wished for me to be “all-the-way happy.”

And you know what? Right now, thanks to my dear friend Nancy Moser, I really, really am.

Posted by Katy on 07/08/08 at 06:40 PM

Fallible Comments...

What a wonderful story - and a wonderful gift to open the book and see that dedication. :)
Posted by Carrie K. on 07/08/08 at 09:57 PM
Katy, you told me that story during one of our lunches at Applebee's and it stuck with me. Obviously! The dedication reads: "I prayed for a friend like the Katie I'd left behind.
And then I met youâ€¦
May you be all-the-way happy." The rest if the dedication may seem like an insider information (as do most dedications) but it stems from this: I had a good friend Katie back in Nebraska, who I really missed when we moved to Kansas City. And so I prayed to God for a friend like Katie. And soon after, I met...Katy. Too cool. God certainly answers prayers! I hope you like the "John 3:16" novel, my dear!
Posted by Nancy Moser on 07/09/08 at 11:38 AM
I like that. I have a picture of my granddaughter that fits it to a tee!! Children get it. We forget.
Posted by Sandi Thompson on 07/09/08 at 06:27 PM
Aw. That's wonderful. I must remember that one. All the way happy.
Yes.
Posted by Cathy West on 07/11/08 at 02:52 PM
Katie--

I had to laugh when I read your story. Now I (again) see why we "clicked" when we met! We are so alike it's scary! And the dedication--how fun!
Posted by D'Ann Mateer on 07/15/08 at 12:31 PM
I would love to get on that publishers' mailing list for advance copies to read and review on my blog. Can you tell me how?
Posted by Sally on 07/22/08 at 11:16 AM

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Personal blog of christian writer & fallible mom Katy McKenna Raymond in Kansas City, Missouri Katy is represented by Greg Johnson at WordServe Literary Read more Katy at LateBoomer.net Follow Katy on Twitter Follow Katy on Facebook 123 Recent Posts Try Becoming Brenda Starr Off Beat Scattered That’s It So I’ve Finally Signed With An Agent. Now What? The Spoon Sciatica Sweetheart A Woman’s Train of Thought Has No Caboose However much we own, we are all still living on borrowed time After all, when restaurants shrink portions, they don’t shrink prices. As with everything in life, balance is key. Slow down, you move too fast… Yeah, I know. I have issues. Search Advanced Search Syndicate Login E me at katy @ ngenius.com	Happiness I am in a fortunate position these days. Because I’ve interviewed lots of authors on fallible, I’m now being sent TONS of free books by any number of publishers. Sometimes, the publisher will send the books without asking and without the expectation that I’ll blog about the story or even post a review on Amazon. Other times, the author’s publicist will contact me, to ask me if I’d be interested in helping get the word out about a certain title. Nancy Moser’s publicist obviously doesn’t know that we are VERY EXTREMELY CLOSE friends. But that doesn’t matter. When she asked if I’d like an advance copy of a book slated to come out in the fall, John 3:16, I jumped at the chance. Now, right in the middle of this post, I’m going to tell you a little story. When Doug and I were in Switzerland last summer for Kevin’s graduation, we took a cable car straight up a mountain in Interlaken. You may or may not know this about me, but I am subject to small bouts of anxiety. Like when I’m near a body of water larger than a jetted tub, or going through the Flint Hills of Kansas and have gotten too far from the safety of that nice Hardee’s travel center, or anywhere (um, Ireland, can you hear me now?) where there’s not a public bathroom. I also have panic attacks with some regularity in cars on plain old highways, but you really don’t want to know about all that, do you? Or about when I have meltdowns in my kitchen, when I’m exploding eggs? I didn’t think so. Anyway, cable cars which frequent steep mountains, as you might have guessed, are NOT my favorite thing. But Doug had dreamed of doing this precise thing the moment we found ourselves in Interlaken, and you know, that fellow can be so darned persistent. Besides, if he croaked and I—-because I had the wisdom and foresight to remain on terra firma—-lived, I would not be overjoyed. I’d be furious with him posthumously, which isn’t too fair, and would likely contribute overly much to my anxiety quotient. Weighing out the pros and cons, I decided I’d rather kick with him than watch the disaster play out from the ground without him. I’m just sayin’. So we got in our car, which was hooked onto, by the sketchiest definition of the word hooked, a number of additional cars. All filled with cheerful riders, thrilled no doubt—-folks who thrive on the rickety, clacking sound of a machine on the very brink of careening into the abyss below. Doug and I were joined by an Indian family of parents, a small girl, and a boy of about ten years of age. The parents spoke no English, but pleasantly smiled as if they were blissfully confident about their eternal destination. The girl was darling and shy, and only marginally afraid. But the boy—-who spoke English better than ever I have—-was friendly and gregarious and having the absolute time of his life. For the sake of the little girl, I determined not to freak out, but dear Lord, was I ever losing it on the inside. I clutched Doug and clung to every bar and rail available—-and there weren’t many. My weak mental constitution was not lost on the lad, who could not stop laughing at my dilemma. After we’d been creaking up the mountain for too many minutes and I had dedicated my life and death completely to Jesus yet again, I finally turned to the boy and said, “I’m fine, really. I’m even kind of happy.” I’ll never forget what he said next, because it was one of the most wonderfully profound things I’ve ever heard. “I’m all the way happy.” That settled things for me. I realized right then that there are moments in life when we just need to give it up and be all the way happy. Do you know exactly how far happy that is? I’ve decided to stop trying to quantify it. Just be all the way happy——what can it hurt? Which brings me to Nancy’s book. I opened it a few minutes ago, and lo and behold, she’d written the dedication to ME. I don’t remember telling her about the Indian boy, but I must have. For in her dedication, she wished for me to be “all-the-way happy.” And you know what? Right now, thanks to my dear friend Nancy Moser, I really, really am. Posted by Katy on 07/08/08 at 06:40 PM Fallible Comments... What a wonderful story - and a wonderful gift to open the book and see that dedication. :) Posted by Carrie K. on 07/08/08 at 09:57 PM Katy, you told me that story during one of our lunches at Applebee's and it stuck with me. Obviously! The dedication reads: "I prayed for a friend like the Katie I'd left behind. And then I met youâ€¦ May you be all-the-way happy." The rest if the dedication may seem like an insider information (as do most dedications) but it stems from this: I had a good friend Katie back in Nebraska, who I really missed when we moved to Kansas City. And so I prayed to God for a friend like Katie. And soon after, I met...Katy. Too cool. God certainly answers prayers! I hope you like the "John 3:16" novel, my dear! Posted by Nancy Moser on 07/09/08 at 11:38 AM I like that. I have a picture of my granddaughter that fits it to a tee!! Children get it. We forget. Posted by Sandi Thompson on 07/09/08 at 06:27 PM Aw. That's wonderful. I must remember that one. All the way happy. Yes. Posted by Cathy West on 07/11/08 at 02:52 PM Katie-- I had to laugh when I read your story. Now I (again) see why we "clicked" when we met! We are so alike it's scary! And the dedication--how fun! Posted by D'Ann Mateer on 07/15/08 at 12:31 PM I would love to get on that publishers' mailing list for advance copies to read and review on my blog. Can you tell me how? Posted by Sally on 07/22/08 at 11:16 AM Page 1 of 1 pages Commenting is not available in this weblog entry. Next entry: I Lost My Poor Meatball Previous entry: Freedom << Back to main


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Personal blog of christianwriter & fallible momKaty McKenna Raymondin Kansas City, Missouri

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Happiness

Personal blog of christian
writer & fallible mom
Katy McKenna Raymond
in Kansas City, Missouri