October 1st, 2014

Hi, Mom. Throughout my nonexistent, but smashingly successful, writing career, I have figured out whose opinions I value the most. These are the people I try to have in front of me when I write anything:

God and I

You and Dad

Mrs. Daniel

Michael and Matt


Brianna, Joy, and Moses

David and Fionn

Even if you never read the things I write, I think of all of you when I write. Will you understand what I am saying? Will you like it? Will you hate it? What? I can be pretty liberal with my writing, opinions, ideas, grammar, spilling. If it were not for all of you, it is not that I would stop writing, but I would certainly write more “for myself.” A recent book on writing convicted me that writing for yourself is selfish and silly. I agree. Writing is communication.

First and foremost is my relationship with God and myself. I care the most about what he will think about my writing. He knows my intentions, my weaknesses, my strengths better than anyone else. I am right behind him in this – and I really am lagging behind. We talk a lot, but it is always me asking him to make me more like him. I never talk to God, telling him what is what, or agreeing with everything he says. He has a lot to say that I do not like hearing. I am always asking him questions and he is always asking me questions.

You and Dad, I try to keep from shocking. Sometimes, I shock both of you when really I am just speaking my mind. Sometimes, I shock you because a shocking idea infested me. Both of you approve (I think) of me writing at all, but still, both of you are certainly the most skeptical of my writing, my intentions, and of me. I appreciate this a lot; more than I know. I can get carried away. I can get intoxicated with ideas or observations – not always a bad thing, but from what I remember of the Epistles, drunkenness is a sin. Neither of you are sure where I am going – and, to be honest, neither am I. I am in for the ride and because we all love each other, I think we are in the roller coaster cart together.

Mrs. Daniel convicted me about using contractions ‘n’ ending sentences with prepositions I used to fill my writing with. Now, I think whenever I use a contraction or have a sentence with which I end in a preposition. I am grateful to her for her years, her ability to listen, her occasionally different perspectives, and her wisdom. She is the only person in my life I sometimes wish never asked me questions, but just kept telling me things. Unfortunately, she is too considerate not to ask questions.

Michael and Matt are my audience for metaphysical ideas. I always try to make the package crisp and the content lively, so they can tell me whether or not what I am saying is understandable and beneficial. They call me out when I am weak-sauce.

Jonte takes no “crap” – as they say. She has a long list of strong opinions in her pocket right next to her heart. Most people with long lists of strong opinions keep them in their sleeves and take them out to smack people. She does not. I always want to know what she thinks.

Brianna, Joy, and Moses are the choir, but they do not like being preached to. They will shut me down – and rightly so – if I am being too arrogant, too proud, too humble, too extreme, too deficient. They have very sensitive feelers for anything sappy or cliche, like antennae tickling the sand of my heart.

David and Fionn are my secret audience, the one I do not often talk to, but the one always on my mind. I don’t know if they read what I write, but whether they do or not, they are always in front of me.

This is my audience.



  • Dear Caleb,

    I began having sharp pains in my hip about 30 minutes ago, a rude awakening that’s become a mid-nightly occurrence. I punched the button on the lanyard that hangs on my walker, a signal to a resident assistant that I need help.

    While waiting for the RA, I opened the i-Pad next to my bed and found your latest missive. What a welcome surprise to read it and find that our meetings have been more than just pleasant afternoon conversations to you.

    The young resident assistant came before I could finish reading, brought my meds and a glass of water, asked if I needed anything else, said a cheery “goodnight” and departed.

    Please know that you continue to be a joy in my life as I read (in the early morning) what you’ve written in the wee hours. This one will be especially memorable!

    The pain has eased and I hope to drift off to sleep soon … if I can stop thinking about you!

    Love you, Jamie

    Sent from my iPad



  • I’m reading, too, and enjoying all that you write even though i don’t comment often. I’m praying for you, that your writing will be used of God to accomplish great things! Keep up the good work, C. Warner.


  • Dearest Son,

    What a joy it is to be able to call you my son. This was a really special post. I really love the person, the writer, the seer that you are becoming, I so appreciate that you do keep others in mind as you write. I love that you view your writing as a conversation with those whom you love.

    For our parts, Daddy and I love that you write what is in your mind and heart. Honest relationships are the best. We wouldn’t be anywhere else but in the roller coaster cart with you (except on the occasions when we jump out to act as guard-rails). Thank you for honestly sharing what you are thinking. Sometimes you move us in new directions, and that is a gift to us.

    I am grateful for all the people God has placed in your life who speak wisdom, humor, honesty, and proper grammar. I’m more grateful that you have ears to hear them and a heart to treasure their offerings.

    Wish we were together right now. Happy finals!


  • And, perhaps I ought to proofread my posts before posting them.


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