Sometimes it's easy to feel isolated out here on the East Coast. Just about everybody I know is back in Oklahoma, and while social media is helpful and good, it's no replacement for the daily interactions and weekly routines with friends.
And then there are times you get a phone call from a friend and hear a story of how someone was sent to your friend as an angel of encouragement, the prayer answered as soon as it was offered.
And in those times, it's like the distance has melted and not only are you closer to your friend but you're also closer to God, and you feel unity and wholeness in your spirit.
May everyone who feels alone have such moments.
Showing posts with label hope. Show all posts
Showing posts with label hope. Show all posts
Saturday, January 18
Thursday, December 26
One Word 2013
A year ago I learned about the idea to choose one word
instead of making a list of New Year's Resolutions. Yes, please, I loved the
idea right away having many times been frustrated by lists, lists, lists. I
either could never come up with things for a list that I actually cared about
or I knew the list wouldn't last beyond the first three weeks of January. Or
both.
At first I didn't know what my word would or could be. But
two things happened and I had it in an instant. My sister-in-law had mentioned One Word 365 and that she
chose to keep her word private and personal. I knew I could pick a word if I
didn't have pressure to share it, because I knew it would be an intimate thing.
Then I read the post that explains One Word 365 and mentions that if the
word doesn't scare you, that's not the right word.
My heart skipped a beat as my word for 2013 slammed into it
like a clingy ping pong ball. I knew my word. I knew there was no going back.
And I knew I had to try.
I feared failing, and just as much I feared succeeding.
Because my word would turn my world upside down if I let it. Which is
exactly what I wanted, and exactly what I feared.
My word seemed impossible.
It was also the thing I wanted most.
I started strong but directionless, trying to find ways to
live my word out in the little things. Life is daily, and so was my word. It
was encouragement, it was a challenge.
There were brief seasons the whole thing slipped my mind,
but the word always came back, ready to urge me onward.
And there were days I saw my life taking the shape of my word as I made hard choices while
keeping it in mind.
It seemed impossible, yet here at the year's end, I have
embraced and lived my word for 2013 more perhaps than I ever have before. And
because of it, I'm looking forward to how much I will own it and live it out
in ten years because I took the first steps now.
My word was FREE.
Now I'm looking forward to the next year and the next word. I’m not sure what it is yet, and I feel a bit like I'm trying too hard to find it. I'm not sure the fear will feel the same as it did last year, because last year my word was terrifying, and also I've seen what incredible things can happen in my life with a focus on one word for the bigger picture. Though I haven't quite found my word for 2014 yet, I think I'm close. I'm hoping it will clutch my heart and hold on fast much like free did. This year I'm more hopeful and a little bit less scared.
Friday, December 6
What I'm Into November 2013, or Things I'm Thankful For
I've been watching Leigh Kramer's What I'm Into posts, enjoying them, and wanting to participate. Now I'm finally going to do it!
An old friend acquaintance sent a message earlier today that got me thinking about the things I've done lately, and I realized quite a few things of note happened last month.
All month:
So, first off, in October I wrote a post about National Novel Writing Month and my intention to participate again. The goal of 50,000 words daunted me working full time and living in a new home, but the pattern of it quickly became a comfort. The set up of my word processor, music, and earbuds became a ritual; I was entering sacred space and I loved it. There were a few times I fell behind and wondered if I could catch up, but I allowed myself grace at the same time that I required words. It was a funny balance, but I learned about my own writing mechanics. I also pantsed the entire story to date, allowing more freedom for the silly and nonsensical, time travel you know and all that. I still write serious and need to work on my humor (funny is hard!), but the characters and events are better for my lack of a strict outline. On November 29th, I reached that longed for word count milestone. On November 30th I wrote some more because the story wasn't done and I had the itch to keep writing. And so I did, and so I shall.
In addition to writing, I indulged in as much Doctor Who as I could, catching up on all the series before the 50th anniversary episode, when my household had a party with Jammie Dodgers, Jelly Babies, popcorn, and more. I love that show, and the 50th anniversary episode did not disappoint.
After The Day of the Doctor, Peter Capaldi's eyebrows showed up in a game my brother and sister-in-law played on each other. I was the unintended victim a couple of times, and it was great. Eventually it escalated, and the 12th Doctor's eyes were vandaleyes'd. No pic of that, though, sorry.
Last month, I was also told that I am an empath. I hadn't realized such a thing was a real-life possibility and not just the stuff of superheroes and fiction, but it explains so much of my past and present, how I experience life and other people. I'm keeping my eyes open for more resources and information on this subject.
Firsts:
It's hard to believe it was such a short time ago now, but in November, on a beautiful, fresh Sunday afternoon, a friend took me to see the ocean, which I had never seen with my own eyes before. I knew I'd be going back and I already have once.
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The last morning of November was spent on a yacht, traversing the harbor with the family. It was great to get out and do something with everyone, and the admission price was a present for Toys for Tots, which my niece was very excited about giving. Near the end of the trip, the boat went under the bridge pictured below. It's huge and amazing (it's actually one of my favorite places in the area--the view!). I lingered outside, taking in the vastness of the bridge, sky, water, and breeze. Also, no pictures, but I caught my first glimpse of a dolphin jumping out of the water!
Travel:
Midmonth, I went to Columbia and drank coffee. To clarify, I did not leave the country, or even the state. I headed to South Carolina's capitol city and watched a dear friend, a wonderful and inspiring woman, graduate from basic training. After the ceremony, I had the blessed time of enjoying an Olive Garden lunch and caramel macchiato with her and her family, some of my favorite people. It was so, so good to see them, and so hard to leave.
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Reading:
I started reading Jesus Feminist (which I knew about primarily through my sister-in-law and Leigh Kramer, so thanks, ladies!), and it is amazing. I'd say my viewpoint on "women's roles" has changed even in the last couple of weeks, and for the better, in part due to this book's examination of how we live and what should be normal. I'm not through the book yet, but I don't expect it to take much longer.
It's also been a month since John Flanagan's book The Royal Ranger came out and I haven't read it yet! I pre-ordered, then decided to wait until December so I wouldn't be rushing through it (I anticipated bleed-over rush pace from writing so fast in November). Then I decided I should read one book at a time (I forget why, something about focus), and I started Jesus Feminist first. But this one is next (sorry, Jane Eyre) since I've been anticipating it for months.
Listening:
Like many, I have been introduced to Pentatonix's performance of The Little Drummer Boy, one of my favorite Christmas songs, and loved it. I'd heard their cover of Radioactive with Lindsey Stirling and liked it, but didn't know what I was listening to. Now I do and Pentatonix has a new fan. I love a sound that is full even without instruments.
Whew! It's been an odd, interesting, and typical month, jam packed with the ordinary and realizations, routine and special events. It's been even fuller than I'd realized. And I didn't even mention Thanksgiving, with my niece and brother racing on the Wii, or the fact that my list of "what I'm thankful for" was simple and I was too embarrassed to give one that was heartfelt. I do have a lot to be thankful for, and I'm learning how to express that, in the special and the ordinary both. This blog list is a good start.
So. What are you into?
Friday, August 9
The Tipping Point
It's been a long time coming, and once that tipping point arrives, there is no slowing down the follow through. It will come and it will be swift.
I'd been thinking about it for months, did I want to, did I have what it took, could I choose almost blindly, praying for faith at the same time that I exercised it?
The tipping point came when the theoretical turned tangible.
"Norman took the job in Charleston."
I blinked. It was only yesterday that there had been the faintest other possibility, not one that would be great. This, however, was exactly what we'd all been waiting for. Whether or not it was the where we'd been waiting for, well that would remain to be seen.
"He...he got the job?"
Mama nodded. "He just called."
This called for celebration! Finally, a solid tenure track position. They wouldn't have to be moving every year, my brother was getting the beginning of his dream, and more and more I'm hearing how lovely a place South Carolina is.
At the same time that I wanted to jump for joy, my world took a strange nose dive. The kind that a fighter plane takes and builds up speed. It can either swing up out of it with more momentum than ever, or it can stall out, continue to fall, and crash.
The theoretical had just become tangible.
I talked with Mama for a few more minutes about it, plying for answers, though nobody had any real details yet, just the big idea that my brother and his family once again had a new destination for the upcoming school year. Then, bubbling with excitement at all the possibilities, I climbed the stairs and faithfully logged on to Facebook. I sent one private message to two recipients. One word. "YAAAYYYY!"
Then I stepped away, though not far, and wondered how everyone's lives were about to topsy around.
A chime.
I looked. I had a new message.
From my sister-in-law.
"Did you want to come with us?"
I could feel it then, the tipping point, the door of no return, waited in front of me. My plane started diving. I was running out of time to decide.
But I had already decided a few months ago. I just had to work through my process and accept that I wouldn't know all the answers and that it would be okay anyway.
I got my final council from my closest advisor, tearfully admitted that it was what I wanted and it was even hard to say so, and finally accepted.
And then there was no stopping me.
I'd been thinking about it for months, did I want to, did I have what it took, could I choose almost blindly, praying for faith at the same time that I exercised it?
The tipping point came when the theoretical turned tangible.
"Norman took the job in Charleston."
I blinked. It was only yesterday that there had been the faintest other possibility, not one that would be great. This, however, was exactly what we'd all been waiting for. Whether or not it was the where we'd been waiting for, well that would remain to be seen.
"He...he got the job?"
Mama nodded. "He just called."
This called for celebration! Finally, a solid tenure track position. They wouldn't have to be moving every year, my brother was getting the beginning of his dream, and more and more I'm hearing how lovely a place South Carolina is.
At the same time that I wanted to jump for joy, my world took a strange nose dive. The kind that a fighter plane takes and builds up speed. It can either swing up out of it with more momentum than ever, or it can stall out, continue to fall, and crash.
The theoretical had just become tangible.
I talked with Mama for a few more minutes about it, plying for answers, though nobody had any real details yet, just the big idea that my brother and his family once again had a new destination for the upcoming school year. Then, bubbling with excitement at all the possibilities, I climbed the stairs and faithfully logged on to Facebook. I sent one private message to two recipients. One word. "YAAAYYYY!"
Then I stepped away, though not far, and wondered how everyone's lives were about to topsy around.
A chime.
I looked. I had a new message.
From my sister-in-law.
"Did you want to come with us?"
I could feel it then, the tipping point, the door of no return, waited in front of me. My plane started diving. I was running out of time to decide.
But I had already decided a few months ago. I just had to work through my process and accept that I wouldn't know all the answers and that it would be okay anyway.
I got my final council from my closest advisor, tearfully admitted that it was what I wanted and it was even hard to say so, and finally accepted.
And then there was no stopping me.
Friday, February 8
My Box
I live in a box. Like one that can store treasures or collect unwanted trinkets that don't ever get thrown out. My room is a box. Like a storage unit, it can be organized or chaotic. Right now my room is like a box being sorted. Only the treasures will remain, leaving empty space so they will be visible. Some have been hidden for so long that they're hardly treasures anymore. Yet once found, remembered, I have a hard time parting with them.
But what needs more space in the box of my room? Things? Or me?
I feel most alive, perhaps most protected, when I am not confined. It's why I love a wide open sky, a low horizon, a far view. Somehow I have to create that within a confined space, and so more things must go to make room for my long limbs and brave imagination to stretch.
My box, my room, is very boring, until I add the touch of me, things that make my heart leap with joy, things that remind me of good times and the love I have from others, things that let me ponder. Snapshots of the best moments in my favorite movie. A rose from my best friend, given three Valentine's ago, hanging in the window all this time. My college graduation cap with the Tangled sun that my sister-in-law painted on top. My framed print of a cowboy riding at sunset. My bridesmaid bouquet from my brother's wedding.
I live in a box. But soon, the edges of the box will fade and the treasures will take the spotlight.
Soon, my box will be as open space.
But what needs more space in the box of my room? Things? Or me?
I feel most alive, perhaps most protected, when I am not confined. It's why I love a wide open sky, a low horizon, a far view. Somehow I have to create that within a confined space, and so more things must go to make room for my long limbs and brave imagination to stretch.
My box, my room, is very boring, until I add the touch of me, things that make my heart leap with joy, things that remind me of good times and the love I have from others, things that let me ponder. Snapshots of the best moments in my favorite movie. A rose from my best friend, given three Valentine's ago, hanging in the window all this time. My college graduation cap with the Tangled sun that my sister-in-law painted on top. My framed print of a cowboy riding at sunset. My bridesmaid bouquet from my brother's wedding.
I live in a box. But soon, the edges of the box will fade and the treasures will take the spotlight.
Soon, my box will be as open space.
Linking up with The RunaMuck's #concretewords prompt.
Wednesday, December 12
One of Many
I look forward to discovering the rest.
I grew up dreaming of how I would some day set up my own house, dreaming of qualities I wanted in my family, things I wanted us to do together, how our evenings might look. I dreamed of music in the home. I dreamed that we would have a piano, that my husband would play an instrument, that hopefully our children would enjoy music so that they also played instruments of their choice. I wanted variety. I hoped for family gatherings of singing, playing music, and warm drinks.
For so long I have put my thoughts toward what my someday could be and what I wanted it to be that I missed something.
Sunday night, I realized I have what I've dreamed for, longed for, hoped for.
Sunday night's sunset was gorgeous. As I drove to my good friends' house, looking at that sunset, I felt the love of God. And it brought tears to my eyes. I hope I feel like that every time I contemplate how deep and strong and powerful His love is.
When I arrived at the house, I partook of a light meal and much joy with dear friends. I went caroling with dear friends, old friends refound, new friends. Once we arrived back at the house to warm up with some cider and more songs around a piano, I finally realized...this is the home I've been longing for. It's one part anyway.
Faithful friends who are dear to us, gather near to us once more. Just like in the song. It's been another year since the last caroling party, and it took me until last night to realize that what I've been longing for isn't, for now at least, to be found in my own little property with four walls and a roof. I'm not a homeowner; I'm not married; I don't have kids. But these aren't reasons for me to not have this home and family that I've yearned for. I have it now.
Sunday night, I realized yet one more way in which God has given me a wonderful gift. I had thought I would have to wait for an unknown, painfully long time before I could have the house filled with loved ones and song that I've dreamed of. But God's gift is that I don't have to wait. I simply have to see what He has put before me.
And my heart has found a home.
One of many.
I look forward to discovering the rest.
I grew up dreaming of how I would some day set up my own house, dreaming of qualities I wanted in my family, things I wanted us to do together, how our evenings might look. I dreamed of music in the home. I dreamed that we would have a piano, that my husband would play an instrument, that hopefully our children would enjoy music so that they also played instruments of their choice. I wanted variety. I hoped for family gatherings of singing, playing music, and warm drinks.
For so long I have put my thoughts toward what my someday could be and what I wanted it to be that I missed something.
Sunday night, I realized I have what I've dreamed for, longed for, hoped for.
Sunday night's sunset was gorgeous. As I drove to my good friends' house, looking at that sunset, I felt the love of God. And it brought tears to my eyes. I hope I feel like that every time I contemplate how deep and strong and powerful His love is.
When I arrived at the house, I partook of a light meal and much joy with dear friends. I went caroling with dear friends, old friends refound, new friends. Once we arrived back at the house to warm up with some cider and more songs around a piano, I finally realized...this is the home I've been longing for. It's one part anyway.
Faithful friends who are dear to us, gather near to us once more. Just like in the song. It's been another year since the last caroling party, and it took me until last night to realize that what I've been longing for isn't, for now at least, to be found in my own little property with four walls and a roof. I'm not a homeowner; I'm not married; I don't have kids. But these aren't reasons for me to not have this home and family that I've yearned for. I have it now.
Sunday night, I realized yet one more way in which God has given me a wonderful gift. I had thought I would have to wait for an unknown, painfully long time before I could have the house filled with loved ones and song that I've dreamed of. But God's gift is that I don't have to wait. I simply have to see what He has put before me.
 |
| photo used with permission |
And my heart has found a home.
One of many.
I look forward to discovering the rest.
Friday, November 30
Drumroll....
Thirty days into the challenge and two days after officially winning NaNoWriMo...
And with an official NaNoWriMo word count of 53,207...
I HAVE FINISHED MY STORY!!!
Tuesday, November 20
Thanksgiving Tightrope Walk
I walk a tightrope between perfect performance pressure and lackadaisical who cares it's no big deal.
When doing something expected by others, it takes almost no pressure for me to freak out and think I'm the wrong person for the job, I can't do it well enough, and everyone is going to be disappointed in me. If I have something for myself, it's not too terribly hard to think eh, whatever, it'll get done when it does. And of course there's the bleed-over mixing depending on each individual situation and my assumed expectations of others' expectations.
It's enough to make one's head whirl like a carousel.
This Thanksgiving week as I face off with food preparations (and the hardest part is done, but now I stress out because that makes a whole lot of sense. not.) I need to remember perspective. Sometimes it's a relief to remember that I am to the universe what an ant is to me. Small, insignificant, and not likely to screw up the world if people happen to not favor my dishes in two days. And likewise, it's a relief to know that I am loved on a grand scale no matter what. Funny how both are true at exactly the same time.
I am very very small, and God is very, VERY big.
I have tons of things to be thankful for, not least of which is that I get to eat at all. So what if it's not amazing? And bonus if it is.
I recently had tea with some very dear friends and periodically we said things that we were thankful for. The things that came to my mind were many. Here are a few. I was recently given opportunities to
1) Travel, specifically by flying in 3 airplanes. Something I've wanted to do for years I got to do three times in just over a week, twice in one day (takeoff and landing are awesome).
2) Be empowered to know that I can handle wood-cutting power tools (Rosie the Riveter I'm not...but I could be!), adjust to another family's culture and the local climate (well, kinda with the climate. with more time, I could), venture out on my own in unfamiliar territory and have a great time, and even make new friends (the secret is opening a conversation with "What's your favorite Disney movie?" --Now I know!) .
3) Gain employment in a dream job, surrounded by wonderful people and books galore!
4) Be responsible for two sweet, little dogs for one glorious and short week, cuddling, playing, treating, and getting licked--oh it was a piece of heaven.
And through these and other changes in my life and in the lives of those I love, I have enjoyed the return of hope and eager anticipation within the realms of this life. I know I no longer have to feel stuck and trapped, and for this I'm deeply grateful. I'm more ready than ever to make and seek out dreams, knowing some may happen and some won't, but I intend to live boldly (well, it's a goal anyway) and love the life I have been given, through the easier times and the harder times. (I'm not naive enough to think there will never be hard times again, but I know they don't have to destroy me or my dreams for an even better life.) I will fail all the time (hello, Thanksgiving prep emotional turmoil :P ), but I know I'll get righted again; all I need is a little perspective reminder.
I wish I was unflappable like Phil Coulson when I go through the soul stretcher, but since I'm not, I get to practice remembering the perspective of grace that I have been given, resuming my balance on that funny tightrope.
Feel free to say hi and let me know if you relate and how you handle it. Maybe we can encourage each other.
And with that, have a lovely Thanksgiving Day and rest of the week (and month; I may not be back before then [but I'll still see your comments]. NaNo!).
When doing something expected by others, it takes almost no pressure for me to freak out and think I'm the wrong person for the job, I can't do it well enough, and everyone is going to be disappointed in me. If I have something for myself, it's not too terribly hard to think eh, whatever, it'll get done when it does. And of course there's the bleed-over mixing depending on each individual situation and my assumed expectations of others' expectations.
It's enough to make one's head whirl like a carousel.
This Thanksgiving week as I face off with food preparations (and the hardest part is done, but now I stress out because that makes a whole lot of sense. not.) I need to remember perspective. Sometimes it's a relief to remember that I am to the universe what an ant is to me. Small, insignificant, and not likely to screw up the world if people happen to not favor my dishes in two days. And likewise, it's a relief to know that I am loved on a grand scale no matter what. Funny how both are true at exactly the same time.
I am very very small, and God is very, VERY big.
I have tons of things to be thankful for, not least of which is that I get to eat at all. So what if it's not amazing? And bonus if it is.
I recently had tea with some very dear friends and periodically we said things that we were thankful for. The things that came to my mind were many. Here are a few. I was recently given opportunities to
1) Travel, specifically by flying in 3 airplanes. Something I've wanted to do for years I got to do three times in just over a week, twice in one day (takeoff and landing are awesome).
2) Be empowered to know that I can handle wood-cutting power tools (Rosie the Riveter I'm not...but I could be!), adjust to another family's culture and the local climate (well, kinda with the climate. with more time, I could), venture out on my own in unfamiliar territory and have a great time, and even make new friends (the secret is opening a conversation with "What's your favorite Disney movie?" --Now I know!) .
3) Gain employment in a dream job, surrounded by wonderful people and books galore!
4) Be responsible for two sweet, little dogs for one glorious and short week, cuddling, playing, treating, and getting licked--oh it was a piece of heaven.
And through these and other changes in my life and in the lives of those I love, I have enjoyed the return of hope and eager anticipation within the realms of this life. I know I no longer have to feel stuck and trapped, and for this I'm deeply grateful. I'm more ready than ever to make and seek out dreams, knowing some may happen and some won't, but I intend to live boldly (well, it's a goal anyway) and love the life I have been given, through the easier times and the harder times. (I'm not naive enough to think there will never be hard times again, but I know they don't have to destroy me or my dreams for an even better life.) I will fail all the time (hello, Thanksgiving prep emotional turmoil :P ), but I know I'll get righted again; all I need is a little perspective reminder.
I wish I was unflappable like Phil Coulson when I go through the soul stretcher, but since I'm not, I get to practice remembering the perspective of grace that I have been given, resuming my balance on that funny tightrope.
Feel free to say hi and let me know if you relate and how you handle it. Maybe we can encourage each other.
And with that, have a lovely Thanksgiving Day and rest of the week (and month; I may not be back before then [but I'll still see your comments]. NaNo!).
Tuesday, October 30
Delight of Now
My jaw would drop if I wasn't resting my face on my hand.
I just met someone, well we didn't meet exactly, but we talked briefly on the phone. And then I learned something about her.
She's a year younger than me and just had a baby? I think. I feel cheated. But as soon as the thought forms I remember, oh yeah, that's...that's about normal.
Remember, I have called you to something else.
Yeah. I remember. I'm not cheated. And she's not better than me, either. Nor am I better than her. I'm just on a different kind of path. I don't know where it will take me, but I know I have a leader who has already set the path and decided it's good. That should be enough.
And it is. Actually the last couple of months have been better than I could have expected and exactly the sort of thing I hope for my life. When one exciting thing calmed down and the event passed, days seemed normal. Time traveled slowly...and in the proper order. That's okay. Good, actually. And then another exciting event came, and went. And days passed one at a time. No specific exciting event on any given day.
Except every day is rather exciting. Each day is new, and I have renewed hope for future days...without spoiling the delight of now.
Now I get to wake up every morning, see the growth of my little jar of Forget-Me-Nots, relax or start early, form a semblance of a dinner plan, head off to one of my dream jobs where I work with great people and will always be surrounded by inspiration as long as I don't close my eyes to it (the feeling is a bit like every time I would get to walk to my beautiful Gaylord, home of the best possible major for me, great teachers, and friendly classmates), read, dream, write, and store up...something. I'm not sure what, nor for what, but I'm glad to drink in where I am now, knowing where I've come from.
No, I'm not married, and no, I don't have a newborn. But I do have a lot. Her adorable baby isn't mine, but this,
::deep breath::
this is mine.
I just met someone, well we didn't meet exactly, but we talked briefly on the phone. And then I learned something about her.
She's a year younger than me and just had a baby? I think. I feel cheated. But as soon as the thought forms I remember, oh yeah, that's...that's about normal.
Remember, I have called you to something else.
Yeah. I remember. I'm not cheated. And she's not better than me, either. Nor am I better than her. I'm just on a different kind of path. I don't know where it will take me, but I know I have a leader who has already set the path and decided it's good. That should be enough.
And it is. Actually the last couple of months have been better than I could have expected and exactly the sort of thing I hope for my life. When one exciting thing calmed down and the event passed, days seemed normal. Time traveled slowly...and in the proper order. That's okay. Good, actually. And then another exciting event came, and went. And days passed one at a time. No specific exciting event on any given day.
Except every day is rather exciting. Each day is new, and I have renewed hope for future days...without spoiling the delight of now.
Now I get to wake up every morning, see the growth of my little jar of Forget-Me-Nots, relax or start early, form a semblance of a dinner plan, head off to one of my dream jobs where I work with great people and will always be surrounded by inspiration as long as I don't close my eyes to it (the feeling is a bit like every time I would get to walk to my beautiful Gaylord, home of the best possible major for me, great teachers, and friendly classmates), read, dream, write, and store up...something. I'm not sure what, nor for what, but I'm glad to drink in where I am now, knowing where I've come from.
No, I'm not married, and no, I don't have a newborn. But I do have a lot. Her adorable baby isn't mine, but this,
::deep breath::
this is mine.
Thursday, August 23
I Still Have One Sign, Part 2
The conclusion from Tuesday's Part 1 post...
It's easy to give up. To one who can always reason that there is still hope, despite emotions that cry otherwise, it's frighteningly easy.
Each time I ripped down one of my notepaper signs, "Don't be afraid to dream," "There is still hope," "For this room," I was disgusted, torn to the core, and saw no way for my circumstances and problems to be overcome or turned into good things.
I still knew the promise that all things in this life actually work for the good of those who love God (Romans 8:38), and I still knew that nothing is outside of His allowance. And, how many times have I called him the Perfect Author, one who thankfully does not need a second draft to the story He writes and has written?
But it still hurt. And knowing that this hurt was part of God's plan actually made me mad. It's what contributed to feeling that I was betrayed by Him. I knew I hadn't been, but I couldn't wrap my mind around it, and my heart was so wounded that I was afraid to trust Him with it.
The memory of being there still brings tears to my eyes.
I had no idea how this would work for anybody's good. And, actually harder to deal with, I had no idea how I was supposed to dream big again. With such a resounding "No" to my hopes, and in a season of events that were fairly close together, how could I expect a "Yes" someday down the road for another dream?
What happens when the hero throws out his memento of love and hope? Usually something outside of him has to happen or arrive, or he'll just walk away and give up on his goal. What's the point in going after it when it's lost and destroyed? Someone else has to ignite what's left of the fire of hope in his heart or he will smolder as embers for the rest of his life.
For us that other, the something or someone outside, can come in many shapes, sizes, sounds, you name it, but ultimately they're all guided by the Maker of Life. I don't know what the process looks like; I'm not even sure what it's been for me, though I know it isn't quite over. But life is filled with little joys, little bits of restoration, and blessings still in every step. I know God is still in control, no one usurped His authority even for a second, and I know He is faithful and still good. And I know I don't deserve His tender love, but He offers it every day, even when I say "I'm mad at you."
I don't know why my dreams couldn't happen, but I do know we were still able to make part of the original trip, and it was very much needed and a blessing. And I know that my brother, sister-in-law, and niece are back now, and I'm glad to have them. I don't know why there are budget constraints that won't allow for transforming my room into a much needed sanctuary, but I do know that my room won't always be like this and I can still make positive changes now. I don't know why my faith and trust needed to be tested, but I do know that I will continue to trust God even when I'm hurt.
And I do know that blessings rain down. Some look smaller than others, but all are gifts. Right now I'm in the midst of so many possible blessing opportunities that I don't know what to do with myself to navigate from one to the next. As of the moment of writing this post, there are so many that I may even need to pick and choose between them (and maybe, just maybe, I can have them all). Back when I was so hurt that I tore down those hopeful papers, I had no conceivable idea that anything like this would happen to me ever, and certainly not just a few months later.
I haven't replaced the old notes on the walls, but I still have one left, and I think it's going to stay.
"Make it what you dream."
It's easy to give up. To one who can always reason that there is still hope, despite emotions that cry otherwise, it's frighteningly easy.
Each time I ripped down one of my notepaper signs, "Don't be afraid to dream," "There is still hope," "For this room," I was disgusted, torn to the core, and saw no way for my circumstances and problems to be overcome or turned into good things.
I still knew the promise that all things in this life actually work for the good of those who love God (Romans 8:38), and I still knew that nothing is outside of His allowance. And, how many times have I called him the Perfect Author, one who thankfully does not need a second draft to the story He writes and has written?
But it still hurt. And knowing that this hurt was part of God's plan actually made me mad. It's what contributed to feeling that I was betrayed by Him. I knew I hadn't been, but I couldn't wrap my mind around it, and my heart was so wounded that I was afraid to trust Him with it.
The memory of being there still brings tears to my eyes.
I had no idea how this would work for anybody's good. And, actually harder to deal with, I had no idea how I was supposed to dream big again. With such a resounding "No" to my hopes, and in a season of events that were fairly close together, how could I expect a "Yes" someday down the road for another dream?
What happens when the hero throws out his memento of love and hope? Usually something outside of him has to happen or arrive, or he'll just walk away and give up on his goal. What's the point in going after it when it's lost and destroyed? Someone else has to ignite what's left of the fire of hope in his heart or he will smolder as embers for the rest of his life.
For us that other, the something or someone outside, can come in many shapes, sizes, sounds, you name it, but ultimately they're all guided by the Maker of Life. I don't know what the process looks like; I'm not even sure what it's been for me, though I know it isn't quite over. But life is filled with little joys, little bits of restoration, and blessings still in every step. I know God is still in control, no one usurped His authority even for a second, and I know He is faithful and still good. And I know I don't deserve His tender love, but He offers it every day, even when I say "I'm mad at you."
I don't know why my dreams couldn't happen, but I do know we were still able to make part of the original trip, and it was very much needed and a blessing. And I know that my brother, sister-in-law, and niece are back now, and I'm glad to have them. I don't know why there are budget constraints that won't allow for transforming my room into a much needed sanctuary, but I do know that my room won't always be like this and I can still make positive changes now. I don't know why my faith and trust needed to be tested, but I do know that I will continue to trust God even when I'm hurt.
And I do know that blessings rain down. Some look smaller than others, but all are gifts. Right now I'm in the midst of so many possible blessing opportunities that I don't know what to do with myself to navigate from one to the next. As of the moment of writing this post, there are so many that I may even need to pick and choose between them (and maybe, just maybe, I can have them all). Back when I was so hurt that I tore down those hopeful papers, I had no conceivable idea that anything like this would happen to me ever, and certainly not just a few months later.
I haven't replaced the old notes on the walls, but I still have one left, and I think it's going to stay.
"Make it what you dream."
Tuesday, August 21
I Still Have One Sign, Part 1
I'm guessing I'm not the only one who puts inspirational signs, posters, decor, whatnot up in their homes. Mine just happen to be quick marker notes written sideways on lined notebook paper and taped to the walls. Classy.
But I tore them down.
I am a person who loves life and has big dreams and hopes, but I'm easily discouraged. So, my head knowing better than my heart sometimes does, I put up four signs on said notebook paper. Three cascaded to form one long message: There is still hope, For this room, Make it what you dream. And one I put on the opposite wall: Don't be afraid to dream.
I'm not sure of the order of things anymore, but I know that I ripped down the "Don't be afraid to dream" sign after I found out we weren't going to make it to Arcata to visit my brother, sister-in-law, and niece while they were living there. I felt betrayed by God and couldn't hold on to a reason to maintain big dreams. This would be when I wrote the post on mourning.
I think "For this room" came down after I hit a figurative wall regarding the state of my literal wall. Budget just wouldn't allow for some of the high hopes I'd built in my mind. Cleaning out, finishing an old project, painting the entirety of the walls, added trim, finishing the door. That might be when "There is still hope" came down, too, but I don't remember. Seems like it stayed up a little longer, but I don't remember then what would have wounded my heart enough to crumple it up, angry tears clinging to my face, and toss it.
You know those moments in movies when the hero is so disgusted or discouraged that he throws out some sweet memento of his family, or the gift from his love? Up until now I'd always had the reason in my mind to think the hero would regret that decision, how could he do that, doesn't he know he'll want it back when things get better?
Now, I understand. We truly don't always hope that things will get better. We might believe that life will continue, but that doesn't mean we think it'll ever get better. And so the memento, the encouraging word, the piece of hope represented in an object finds a direct one-way ticket to the dumpster. It's worse than the Monopoly card "Go Directly to Jail."
It's a horrible place to be. And it's very real.
Can you relate?
My thoughts will continue in a couple days...
But I tore them down.
I am a person who loves life and has big dreams and hopes, but I'm easily discouraged. So, my head knowing better than my heart sometimes does, I put up four signs on said notebook paper. Three cascaded to form one long message: There is still hope, For this room, Make it what you dream. And one I put on the opposite wall: Don't be afraid to dream.
I'm not sure of the order of things anymore, but I know that I ripped down the "Don't be afraid to dream" sign after I found out we weren't going to make it to Arcata to visit my brother, sister-in-law, and niece while they were living there. I felt betrayed by God and couldn't hold on to a reason to maintain big dreams. This would be when I wrote the post on mourning.
I think "For this room" came down after I hit a figurative wall regarding the state of my literal wall. Budget just wouldn't allow for some of the high hopes I'd built in my mind. Cleaning out, finishing an old project, painting the entirety of the walls, added trim, finishing the door. That might be when "There is still hope" came down, too, but I don't remember. Seems like it stayed up a little longer, but I don't remember then what would have wounded my heart enough to crumple it up, angry tears clinging to my face, and toss it.
You know those moments in movies when the hero is so disgusted or discouraged that he throws out some sweet memento of his family, or the gift from his love? Up until now I'd always had the reason in my mind to think the hero would regret that decision, how could he do that, doesn't he know he'll want it back when things get better?
Now, I understand. We truly don't always hope that things will get better. We might believe that life will continue, but that doesn't mean we think it'll ever get better. And so the memento, the encouraging word, the piece of hope represented in an object finds a direct one-way ticket to the dumpster. It's worse than the Monopoly card "Go Directly to Jail."
It's a horrible place to be. And it's very real.
Can you relate?
My thoughts will continue in a couple days...
Wednesday, July 18
There Are Times
There are times
when the phone rings late
and I hear the tears
before I know anything else
When all I know is a friend’s hurt
and with her I ache
a chance lost
a hope drowned
a truth buried
With her I cry
wishing somehow
to take the weight away
to stem the bleeding
to apply the balm
But my temper flares
when I hear how she was hurt
and I’m ready for war
like a mother bear
God help me
I need to remember
You are in
control
You offer grace
to those who don’t deserve it
including me
And I look back at my friend
my sister for years
covered with fresh and dried tears
and inside I break
and with her I weep
The night drags dark
but together we somehow know
we somehow still hope
the night will end
a new dawn will shine
and we count the hours
until then.
Wednesday, July 11
Squee!, second part
Let the excitement continue!
Two weeks ago, I told you about the e-release of Petals by my twin-separated-at-birth (but not really) and best friend (really), Rebekah Roberts. I shared a quick interview and a little bit about the book and I got my copy. You can read that bubbly post here. (And remember, I'm not getting paid for this, not even bribery money.)
Well, today, when I postponed breakfast and hopped online, I scooted over to Amazon.com and found the paperback is already ready to order! It will also be available at BarnesandNoble.com; it's jut not up quite yet.
Last time, I had asked my twin some more questions about her writing, and now I would like to share them with you.
You can keep up with the latest from Rebekah on her Facebook page or Twitter profile. There's also more at her official website, RebekahRoberts.net. And for fun, you can listen to the playlist that Rebekah put together of songs and videos that inspired Petals.
I've started reading my e-copy, and I'm excited to get my signed book soon! And I can't wait to find it in bookstores and geek out in a public place! Oh yes, I will be looking.
"Beauty might just be the beast."
Calla Williams is not like other girls. Most girls spend their whole lives trying to be beautiful, Calla already is…and she hates it.
When she is shipped off one summer to live with family friends in their dilapidated Mississippi plantation, Calla is faced with the prospect of living with strangers and their teenage son. This is annoying because, like any other boy, he is sure to fall in love with her on sight. However, Griffin Davenport is not your typical teenage guy. With his hot temper and half of his face severely scarred, “hate at first sight” is closer to what she finds.
Though the two teens try to stay out of each other’s way, an odd attraction to each other makes staying away anything but easy.
Now, Calla must deal with growing feelings, her own prejudices, and finding the secret to Griffin’s past. As hate turns to friendship and friendship becomes something more, Calla learns a startling truth: God uses even how we look in His plan for our lives.
 |
| Read the prologue at Rebekah's website here. |
Two weeks ago, I told you about the e-release of Petals by my twin-separated-at-birth (but not really) and best friend (really), Rebekah Roberts. I shared a quick interview and a little bit about the book and I got my copy. You can read that bubbly post here. (And remember, I'm not getting paid for this, not even bribery money.)
Well, today, when I postponed breakfast and hopped online, I scooted over to Amazon.com and found the paperback is already ready to order! It will also be available at BarnesandNoble.com; it's jut not up quite yet.
Last time, I had asked my twin some more questions about her writing, and now I would like to share them with you.
D: What has the journey been like to getting published?
R: Amazingly fast. I know that I am so blessed to have found a publisher so quickly. I hope that that means my book is something special.
D: Where do you write?
R: I love to go to Barnes and Noble. Most of Petals was produced there. The smell of coffee and new books gets me in the writing mood.
D: Do you have a writing routine?
R: Not really. I just try to fit it in where I can. I work long hours and there isn't always time. I think lamenting over not getting in our writing time is a constant struggle with most writers.
D: So what do you like to do in your free time?
R: Lately I have been napping. ;) But when I am not sleepy, there is nothing I like more than to hang out with my family or a good friend. I love reading and TV and movies, but I think, given the choice I would rather hang out and have a good talk with someone than just about anything.
D: Probably because you're an encourager. How do you hope to encourage readers with Petals?
R: The themes that are in Petals and now in the following books have a lot to do with true beauty and true love. I love romances, but I want to write a story that is more than just "boy meets girl." I want to write a story that has broken characters that may not be perfect by the last page but they are on their way to becoming better people and then maybe somehow that might affect a reader in his or her own life.
D: What is your fear with your book?
R: Wow... Good question. I guess, that no one will buy it... But I think more than that I am afraid of sending the wrong messages. I set out to send a message about beauty and love, but I have learned so much since I wrote it that I hope it still rings with truth. A single book is just a small stopping place in a writer's life. I have grown so much as a person and as a writer since I started the project, so I just hope my younger self knew what she was talking about.
D: Everybody has dreams. What are yours?
R: My dream as an author (wow that looks weird to type, author..), is to keep writing and keep getting published. I don't know that I will ever just write. I am currently a full-time nanny and I love it. I think I will always write and do something else, at least on the side. As for personal dreams... I'm like any hardcore dreamer, I want my own fairytale, my own happily ever after and I pray that I find it someday.
D: In addition to writing and nanny-ing (yeah, I don't think that's a word yet) you also have a ministry outreach in the works. Tell me about it.
R: Unfolding Rose Ministries is a new adventure that I am embarking on this fall. It is a ministry that I'm starting. I want to use my own fiction, other fiction, and interviews I'm conducting with men and women as a way to talk to young women about love, purity, modesty, guys, true beauty, and most of all who they are in Christ.
D: What keeps you going every day?
R: My faith in Christ. I suffer from anxiety. It's something that I am not ashamed to talk about and anyone who knows me, knows I deal with worry and doubt on a daily basis. I guess you could call me a sensitive artist or just a plain old worry wart, but God takes that and uses it. Jesus is the one who gets me out of my head and gives me the strength to be there for others. It's because of my fears that I am able to write better characters and I am able to be sensitive to other peoples' struggles. So I thank God for my weakness and I thank Him for His strength in my life.
D: What's the one thing you want people to know about you?
R: I guess what it says in the info section of my personal Facebook page: "I am the creation of The Creator, the loved of The Lover, the daughter of The Father and the saved of the Savior. I am His." And that this book is for Him as well.
I've started reading my e-copy, and I'm excited to get my signed book soon! And I can't wait to find it in bookstores and geek out in a public place! Oh yes, I will be looking.
 |
| Cover image by 5 Prince Publishing |
Calla Williams is not like other girls. Most girls spend their whole lives trying to be beautiful, Calla already is…and she hates it.
When she is shipped off one summer to live with family friends in their dilapidated Mississippi plantation, Calla is faced with the prospect of living with strangers and their teenage son. This is annoying because, like any other boy, he is sure to fall in love with her on sight. However, Griffin Davenport is not your typical teenage guy. With his hot temper and half of his face severely scarred, “hate at first sight” is closer to what she finds.
Though the two teens try to stay out of each other’s way, an odd attraction to each other makes staying away anything but easy.
Now, Calla must deal with growing feelings, her own prejudices, and finding the secret to Griffin’s past. As hate turns to friendship and friendship becomes something more, Calla learns a startling truth: God uses even how we look in His plan for our lives.
Wednesday, June 27
Squee!
Okay, I am psyched. It's not my book, and I'm not getting any money out of this (I'm actually spending money), but I'm already in line for my copies.
I'm talking with my best friend, Rebekah Roberts, PUBLISHED AUTHOR. Her first book in the Once Upon a Tuesday series, Petals, comes out today in ebook format (available at amazon.com and barnesandnoble.com) and in print form on July 11th (and it should be in some local bookstores, but we don't have the info of where yet). (Here's a link to the publisher's blog with an excerpt from the book, a list of all the places online the book can be bought, and an easy contest for a $10 Amazon gift card [contest is today only].)
Rebekah and I have been best friends (identical twins separated at birth, really) since we graduated high school together. I love her for her honesty, humor, love, graciousness, and her persistence to hope. She has been one of my main encouragers and carries hope for me when I can't.
Rebekah has a love of fairytales and romance, and a heart for today's teens and children. Through her writing she has found her gift for sharing God's love with people she may never meet (expanding her already impressive reach!).
I asked my twin some questions about this new milestone to share with you.
You can keep up with the latest from Rebekah on her Facebook page or Twitter profile. There's also more at her official website, RebekahRoberts.net.
...I feel like a bridesmaid: excited for my dear friend and anticipating the bouquet toss! And I can't wait to read this novel again!
"Beauty might just be the beast."
Calla Williams is not like other girls. Most girls spend their whole lives trying to be beautiful, Calla already is…and she hates it.
When she is shipped off one summer to live with family friends in their dilapidated Mississippi plantation, Calla is faced with the prospect of living with strangers and their teenage son. This is annoying because, like any other boy, he is sure to fall in love with her on sight. However, Griffin Davenport is not your typical teenage guy. With his hot temper and half of his face severely scarred, “hate at first sight” is closer to what she finds.
Though the two teens try to stay out of each other’s way, an odd attraction to each other makes staying away anything but easy.
Now, Calla must deal with growing feelings, her own prejudices, and finding the secret to Griffin’s past. As hate turns to friendship and friendship becomes something more, Calla learns a startling truth: God uses even how we look in His plan for our lives.
I'm talking with my best friend, Rebekah Roberts, PUBLISHED AUTHOR. Her first book in the Once Upon a Tuesday series, Petals, comes out today in ebook format (available at amazon.com and barnesandnoble.com) and in print form on July 11th (and it should be in some local bookstores, but we don't have the info of where yet). (Here's a link to the publisher's blog with an excerpt from the book, a list of all the places online the book can be bought, and an easy contest for a $10 Amazon gift card [contest is today only].)
Rebekah and I have been best friends (identical twins separated at birth, really) since we graduated high school together. I love her for her honesty, humor, love, graciousness, and her persistence to hope. She has been one of my main encouragers and carries hope for me when I can't.
Rebekah has a love of fairytales and romance, and a heart for today's teens and children. Through her writing she has found her gift for sharing God's love with people she may never meet (expanding her already impressive reach!).
I asked my twin some questions about this new milestone to share with you.
D: Why do you want to write books?
R: I have always been a story teller. I can remember gathering kids at church around me and I would tell them stories. The crowd would always grow bigger as I spoke. So I write to tell a good story, but also I look at it as a ministry. I want to write stories that will make people think, make them grow and hopefully bring glory to God.
D: What are your most and least favorite parts of being a writer?
R: Least favorite part would have to be feeling guilty for not getting any writing done in a day or week. The best part is watching the story play out. Getting to see something that was just in your head come together and actually become something real and tangible.
D: How does it feel to achieve your dream of being a published author?
R: It feels amazing. Like going on a journey for many years and finally getting to the "Welcome" sign. It must be how Frodo felt after getting to Mordor or how Ella (from Ella Enchanted) felt when she made it to the giant's wedding. But at the same time I know this is just the welcome. I still have a lot of stories that I want to write and a lot more dreams, even in the area of writing, that I want to achieve.
D: Why this book, this story? And why now?
R: Now, is the perfect time for a wholesome look at romance. Our genaration is overly sexualized and what true beauty really is has been lost... We need to fight to get it back... This book is about inner and outer beauty, it's about realizing that God uses everything, even how we look, in His plan for our lives. I think that you will relate to the characters and maybe grow with them.
D: Why you?
R: I have always loved Beauty and the Beast. One of my earliest memories is watching the Disney version in the theater. I was so scared of the Beast but I still loved the film.
D: How did you choose the title?
R: Um...It started out being called "Calla and Griffin: A modern day tale of Beauty and the Beast." But long titles were not "in" at the time so I decided to change it to something catchy. I figured petals go with roses and no one can think of B&B without the rose. It was cool how the petals became a theme and you will find them throughout the book.
D: You wear roses every day, don't you?
R: Not every day... But most days, yes. It's not even always on purpose... I just love roses so much that they end up as a pattern in a dress or on my earrings. I didn't even notice the trend until someone pointed it out.
D: What are you working on now?
R: The second book in the Once Upon a Tuesday series. The working title is Sheltering Snow. It is a modern version of Snow White. It's about a teen runaway who is befriended by a quirky family of siblings. It's about heartbreak and learning what real love and real family is.
You can keep up with the latest from Rebekah on her Facebook page or Twitter profile. There's also more at her official website, RebekahRoberts.net.
...I feel like a bridesmaid: excited for my dear friend and anticipating the bouquet toss! And I can't wait to read this novel again!
|
| Cover image by 5 Prince Publishing |
Calla Williams is not like other girls. Most girls spend their whole lives trying to be beautiful, Calla already is…and she hates it.
When she is shipped off one summer to live with family friends in their dilapidated Mississippi plantation, Calla is faced with the prospect of living with strangers and their teenage son. This is annoying because, like any other boy, he is sure to fall in love with her on sight. However, Griffin Davenport is not your typical teenage guy. With his hot temper and half of his face severely scarred, “hate at first sight” is closer to what she finds.
Though the two teens try to stay out of each other’s way, an odd attraction to each other makes staying away anything but easy.
Now, Calla must deal with growing feelings, her own prejudices, and finding the secret to Griffin’s past. As hate turns to friendship and friendship becomes something more, Calla learns a startling truth: God uses even how we look in His plan for our lives.
Saturday, June 16
I Will Have It
Not that long ago I would walk into my room and a wordless feeling of despair would settle over me. This happened so often and for so long that eventually I distanced myself from the despair just to get from one side to the other, usually settling on my bed, my nest, to go to sleep or to get online and ignore the soul-sucking piles of junk and paper that littered everything.
But in the last week and especially the last couple of days I walk into my room and a triumphantly joyous thought voices itself: I will have it.
I will have my room back. I will have a clean, safe, soothing, environment. I will have things nicely decorated. I will have my pretty daybed up in place of my current bed (nothing wrong with it, honestly, but it doesn't provide the function that I want, and also, it's not mine).
Remember how it was such a big deal to have my reading nook clean and always ready? The rocking chair, the lamp, the bookshelf where I can keep library books. All the wonderful coziness tied to that. And I met my deadline, and I had put the work in it, and it was mine, all mine. (I know I still owe you pictures, but it's not tidy right now.) Well, now I'm doing that (without a strict deadline) for the entirety of my room. For too long I've let my possessions own me; I'm a self-proclaimed border hoarder. (sigh)
I've been cleaning, mostly sorting and shuffling things and throwing out notebooks and other paper from college classes. I've been opening up floor space (let me tell you, hope and refreshment are found in an empty floor!), finding things I'd forgotten but want to keep, uncovering my instruments (with renewed vigor to learn and practice), sorting my crafting supplies. Before that I was going through my closet, jewelry, and makeup. I still have some ground to (un)cover, but I've made noticeable progress. And any time I stop to think for one second about what I'm trying to accomplish, and basically every time I enter my room, I am encouraged.
I expect I'll always fight the tendency to keep everything (yes, everything, including, to my embarrassment, price tags from clothes bought an undetermined amount of time ago). But I intend to fight it from now on. I've picked a battle worth the effort, and I'm going to win this war.
I'm shaping my life into what I want it to be. And it starts here, with my room.
But in the last week and especially the last couple of days I walk into my room and a triumphantly joyous thought voices itself: I will have it.
I will have my room back. I will have a clean, safe, soothing, environment. I will have things nicely decorated. I will have my pretty daybed up in place of my current bed (nothing wrong with it, honestly, but it doesn't provide the function that I want, and also, it's not mine).
Remember how it was such a big deal to have my reading nook clean and always ready? The rocking chair, the lamp, the bookshelf where I can keep library books. All the wonderful coziness tied to that. And I met my deadline, and I had put the work in it, and it was mine, all mine. (I know I still owe you pictures, but it's not tidy right now.) Well, now I'm doing that (without a strict deadline) for the entirety of my room. For too long I've let my possessions own me; I'm a self-proclaimed border hoarder. (sigh)
I've been cleaning, mostly sorting and shuffling things and throwing out notebooks and other paper from college classes. I've been opening up floor space (let me tell you, hope and refreshment are found in an empty floor!), finding things I'd forgotten but want to keep, uncovering my instruments (with renewed vigor to learn and practice), sorting my crafting supplies. Before that I was going through my closet, jewelry, and makeup. I still have some ground to (un)cover, but I've made noticeable progress. And any time I stop to think for one second about what I'm trying to accomplish, and basically every time I enter my room, I am encouraged.
I expect I'll always fight the tendency to keep everything (yes, everything, including, to my embarrassment, price tags from clothes bought an undetermined amount of time ago). But I intend to fight it from now on. I've picked a battle worth the effort, and I'm going to win this war.
I'm shaping my life into what I want it to be. And it starts here, with my room.
Friday, June 1
I don't choose my purpose. I'm given freedom.
Yesterday I held a newborn baby. A tiny person. She is beautiful and precious. Impossibly real. A new heart not yet ready to explore far, but filled with so much potential already that it makes one want to sing. I didn't see her for long, and I held her for less than that (she was hungry, after all, and I haven't got food in me). I'm terribly excited for her and her parents, and I have confidence that they will be just fine. I left as unobtrusively as I could manage to let this beautiful, little, and growing family have peace and time. And on the way home, I cried.
You see, despite my fears of babies (mostly because they're so small, I'm not and tend toward clumsiness, and I don't want to break them or hurt them in any way), there are times I desperately want a child (or more than one) of my own.
I want a small, young, new person to hold and comfort, cuddle and feed, encourage and teach. Someone to whom, down the road, I can say, "Sure, try that slightly dangerous or new and uncertain thing. It'll probably turn out all right." Someone who I can try to help have more courage than I do. And a whole long list of reasons and things I look forward to, should they be granted to me.
And preceding that, I would love to be married. Seriously. There's another list longer than my arm of things I want and hope for wrapped in that.
And these are good things to want, certainly. I'm not likely to stop any second. But I'm also not likely to get married "any day now". And because of that (and a thousand other things, including I've never been career-oriented) I've been down in my heart about my usefulness and my purpose. If I want to raise a person, how is fiction going to help? If I want to marry and partner myself with a man, what use is the obscurity of holing up and pouring my energy into false realms into which no one can truly travel? And if marriage and children are not for me, what is the point of wanting them so deeply? And what is the benefit of my desired and chosen profession anyway?
Those questions are hard to write now, because, for the moment, it's so easy to see how silly they are. But for a couple or so weeks I wrestled with the challenges they brought to mind. The "glut" of fiction and stories haunted me. The longing to do something great and to be a crucial piece in a grand plan that worked for the good of thousands of people made my heart despair that "I could never".
Because, after all, what can one lonely little writer do? Certainly nothing on such a grand and important scale.
But even as I doubted, I knew my doubts were...well, not exactly wrong, but ill-founded. I know that God can do nationally, even globally-scaled works through small people. So, of course my writing could turn out to be something desperately needed. It could turn out that way and I'd never know, or it could turn out that way and I'd be giving my autograph until I wished I'd never become a writer for different reasons.
But that's not even the heart issue. I know God can do huge things with one person if He chooses. I also know He can do "small" yet still highly important things with one person. The fact is, there's not a single person on this earth who doesn't have and fulfill a purpose.
I was struggling with wanting to choose my own purpose, when in reality, it's not my choice. I can choose the purpose of the fictional people I create, but I cannot choose my own. It's not my right. I didn't design myself, nor the people I'm around, nor the world I interact within. No, none of it. Everything I do in a fiction story I did none of for my own life.
It's not mine to question. Oh, sure, I can ask as long as I ask respectfully (how odd would it be if one of my characters were to demand of me that I change him from being a tailor to a taxi driver?), but once asked it's not mine to demand an answer. It is mine to simply accept that God is working and using me in His story as He sees fit. I don't have to know how all the intricacies work. Sure I'd like to. But I'm not my own author. Whoops. I merely play my part, which has importance though I may never know exactly what. I should stay open to the possibility of changes--or growth--of my role at the moment. But that doesn't make who I am, what I love, and what I do now flabbergastingly useless.
I didn't create it, but I have purpose, and really, I can't escape fulfilling a purpose. For God's glory and the good of those who love Him. Which, to put a finger on it, is what I really want.
That doesn't mean I can't choose to do other things, but I'm still unique me no matter what I do and will remain designed for what this unique me is needed. God gave me not only a love of others' stories but also of creating and sharing my own, and though I may sometimes try, I can't run from that. It will always be a part of me. I can grow as a person (please, no taller), expand my skills and knowledge, meet new people, try new things, and generally live life. Actually, I hope to do this. And that will only work to further my God-given purpose. Whether He chooses to reveal it to me at the time, later, or not at all is His call. But I can trust Him to use me for grand things.
It's a mystery. And yet it makes sense.
For now, I think I'll keep writing in re-remembered freedom.
You see, despite my fears of babies (mostly because they're so small, I'm not and tend toward clumsiness, and I don't want to break them or hurt them in any way), there are times I desperately want a child (or more than one) of my own.
I want a small, young, new person to hold and comfort, cuddle and feed, encourage and teach. Someone to whom, down the road, I can say, "Sure, try that slightly dangerous or new and uncertain thing. It'll probably turn out all right." Someone who I can try to help have more courage than I do. And a whole long list of reasons and things I look forward to, should they be granted to me.
And preceding that, I would love to be married. Seriously. There's another list longer than my arm of things I want and hope for wrapped in that.
And these are good things to want, certainly. I'm not likely to stop any second. But I'm also not likely to get married "any day now". And because of that (and a thousand other things, including I've never been career-oriented) I've been down in my heart about my usefulness and my purpose. If I want to raise a person, how is fiction going to help? If I want to marry and partner myself with a man, what use is the obscurity of holing up and pouring my energy into false realms into which no one can truly travel? And if marriage and children are not for me, what is the point of wanting them so deeply? And what is the benefit of my desired and chosen profession anyway?
Those questions are hard to write now, because, for the moment, it's so easy to see how silly they are. But for a couple or so weeks I wrestled with the challenges they brought to mind. The "glut" of fiction and stories haunted me. The longing to do something great and to be a crucial piece in a grand plan that worked for the good of thousands of people made my heart despair that "I could never".
Because, after all, what can one lonely little writer do? Certainly nothing on such a grand and important scale.
But even as I doubted, I knew my doubts were...well, not exactly wrong, but ill-founded. I know that God can do nationally, even globally-scaled works through small people. So, of course my writing could turn out to be something desperately needed. It could turn out that way and I'd never know, or it could turn out that way and I'd be giving my autograph until I wished I'd never become a writer for different reasons.
But that's not even the heart issue. I know God can do huge things with one person if He chooses. I also know He can do "small" yet still highly important things with one person. The fact is, there's not a single person on this earth who doesn't have and fulfill a purpose.
I was struggling with wanting to choose my own purpose, when in reality, it's not my choice. I can choose the purpose of the fictional people I create, but I cannot choose my own. It's not my right. I didn't design myself, nor the people I'm around, nor the world I interact within. No, none of it. Everything I do in a fiction story I did none of for my own life.
It's not mine to question. Oh, sure, I can ask as long as I ask respectfully (how odd would it be if one of my characters were to demand of me that I change him from being a tailor to a taxi driver?), but once asked it's not mine to demand an answer. It is mine to simply accept that God is working and using me in His story as He sees fit. I don't have to know how all the intricacies work. Sure I'd like to. But I'm not my own author. Whoops. I merely play my part, which has importance though I may never know exactly what. I should stay open to the possibility of changes--or growth--of my role at the moment. But that doesn't make who I am, what I love, and what I do now flabbergastingly useless.
I didn't create it, but I have purpose, and really, I can't escape fulfilling a purpose. For God's glory and the good of those who love Him. Which, to put a finger on it, is what I really want.
That doesn't mean I can't choose to do other things, but I'm still unique me no matter what I do and will remain designed for what this unique me is needed. God gave me not only a love of others' stories but also of creating and sharing my own, and though I may sometimes try, I can't run from that. It will always be a part of me. I can grow as a person (please, no taller), expand my skills and knowledge, meet new people, try new things, and generally live life. Actually, I hope to do this. And that will only work to further my God-given purpose. Whether He chooses to reveal it to me at the time, later, or not at all is His call. But I can trust Him to use me for grand things.
It's a mystery. And yet it makes sense.
For now, I think I'll keep writing in re-remembered freedom.
Wednesday, May 30
Teamwork
This couple. And this song. Because they're a team.
I want something like this. Though I realize how I come to it would probably be different, much different: I haven't done any solo gallivanting across the country lately, so far as I know Excalibur isn't missing (leastways, it doesn't have to be returned to Arthur any time soon), and one could hope that I won't be at odds with my future spouse the moment we meet (nor him trying to get rid of me).
But some things might be the same: I can prattle on a bit, he might be blind, and we might sing together. One can never tell ahead of time for sure.
If you're single or dating, what characteristic do you want most in your potential marriage relationship? If you are married, what characteristic of you and your spouse together do you enjoy most?
Friday, May 18
Loud Hollow
The pressing silence.
Sometimes, after an hour or so of excitement I want nothing more than a little solitary quiet time. Usually with music playing quietly (or maybe something bouncy to get me dancing), but sometimes, rare times I prefer no music, no major background noise except maybe for a clock (why is the shifting of the seconds hand soothing?).
And sometimes after an hour or so of excitement, I can't stand to slow down and be quiet. The loud hum of the refrigerator is the only sound. I might as well be all alone in this house. And nothing of particular excitement or interaction is going on in the social media (Facebook) realm. I tried reading blogs, but just couldn't settle on anything to peruse. I thought about working on one of my stories, but I think my head (and heart) doesn't want to work that hard right now.
I need to recharge, but I don't want to be alone. But I'm not playing on Facebook or leaving comments on blogs. I suppose there is the phone, but it's hard to have companionable silence on an audio-only communication device.
The house is too quiet. It feels empty and dark (well, most of the lights are off), which makes me feel empty even though I just finished my pizza and tea.
I think what I feel right now is sad, but I can't think of a reason for it. I know I'm tired. A nap has sounded beautiful all day, and the one I got was kinda nice (though I don't think my feet ever warmed up, sigh).
I want to be fixed. But there's nothing wrong with me.
I guess maybe I feel lonely. Isolated. I just had some fun with some kids who are full of energy and excitement for life. I wish I hadn't let things beat me down so much over the years so that I wouldn't frequent this lonely little hollow. I wish I shared the kids' optimism, owning it like I used to when I was younger. I wish I hadn't misplaced my copy of Tangled. That would set me to rights. Though it is a romance, and I wish I wasn't single. But then, I also enjoy being single. Another conundrum.
Seems like this moment is filled with conundrums.
Thankfully, Pandora just kicked in.
*Post publishing addition: as soon as I hit the "Publish" button, "Just Haven't Met You Yet" by Michael Bublé came on my Pandora station.
Now that's timing.
Sometimes, after an hour or so of excitement I want nothing more than a little solitary quiet time. Usually with music playing quietly (or maybe something bouncy to get me dancing), but sometimes, rare times I prefer no music, no major background noise except maybe for a clock (why is the shifting of the seconds hand soothing?).
And sometimes after an hour or so of excitement, I can't stand to slow down and be quiet. The loud hum of the refrigerator is the only sound. I might as well be all alone in this house. And nothing of particular excitement or interaction is going on in the social media (Facebook) realm. I tried reading blogs, but just couldn't settle on anything to peruse. I thought about working on one of my stories, but I think my head (and heart) doesn't want to work that hard right now.
I need to recharge, but I don't want to be alone. But I'm not playing on Facebook or leaving comments on blogs. I suppose there is the phone, but it's hard to have companionable silence on an audio-only communication device.
The house is too quiet. It feels empty and dark (well, most of the lights are off), which makes me feel empty even though I just finished my pizza and tea.
I think what I feel right now is sad, but I can't think of a reason for it. I know I'm tired. A nap has sounded beautiful all day, and the one I got was kinda nice (though I don't think my feet ever warmed up, sigh).
I want to be fixed. But there's nothing wrong with me.
I guess maybe I feel lonely. Isolated. I just had some fun with some kids who are full of energy and excitement for life. I wish I hadn't let things beat me down so much over the years so that I wouldn't frequent this lonely little hollow. I wish I shared the kids' optimism, owning it like I used to when I was younger. I wish I hadn't misplaced my copy of Tangled. That would set me to rights. Though it is a romance, and I wish I wasn't single. But then, I also enjoy being single. Another conundrum.
Seems like this moment is filled with conundrums.
Thankfully, Pandora just kicked in.
*Post publishing addition: as soon as I hit the "Publish" button, "Just Haven't Met You Yet" by Michael Bublé came on my Pandora station.
Now that's timing.
Wednesday, May 9
The Hunger Games
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| www.checkthefilm.com |
May The Odds...
The Hunger Games. A popular book, trilogy, and now movie. I have a lot of thoughts on the books, and I'm still somewhat processing the movie. It's a big story. And it's also not. What makes it great? What makes it not? And what do we do with that?
I have no idea what to tell you to do with the books, movie, or overall story. I don't know what to do with it myself. All I can do is share some of my mixed thoughts.
For starters, it's brilliant. No, really. The books, in first-person point of view, show us an intimate, in-depth look at a world that feels like the Great Depression + nuclear war aftereffects + ruling politics gone terribly, terribly wrong. And since it's in first person, we get just about every single thought and feeling that Katniss experiences. (I even used it in a paper I recently re-found as a useful book for examining the reality of facing one's own death.) And the use of present tense amplifies the immediacy and intensity of every. single. thing.
And the movie is a pretty great adaption of the story from the print media to audio/visual media. The actors portrayed their characters spot on. The additional points of view of the gamemakers, President Snow, and Rue's district fleshes out the world with things that wouldn't have translated from the book otherwise. The core conflict of the games is lived out. The subtext conflict of fighting corruption is shown a little more than in the book.
Some things in the movie were a little weird, like the crossover of worlds when Katniss has delusions from the Tracker Jacker venom. And, honestly I was really looking forward to the visual portrayal of Katniss' costumes, Cinna's masterpieces...and was disappointed. They were nice, but for me a little of a let down. And we didn't get to see Haymitch's character arc as clearly, even though we saw him working behind the scenes (a nice touch). But all in all, those things 1) aren't enough to detract from the movie as a whole and 2) are a part of the media.
It's Good, Or Is It?
It's a compelling story. Katniss obviously has a lot of determination and bravery. Peeta carries his compassion with him into the arena. Rue and Prim motivate Katniss to action. Haymitch...well, Haymitch is one of my favorite characters, sweetheart. He actually has a defined arc of character growth. The worlds are clearly distinct, and the complications are simple enough to follow while still making things interesting and hard for the characters. So what's the problem? What bothers me about the book and movie?
1. As much as the characters distaste the concept of the Hunger Games to begin with, they follow through with it, not even really trying to stem the symptoms, much less trying to stop the problem.
2. It's a rather draining read or viewing experience.
3. Katniss' defiance is mostly accidental.
4. And there is a distinct lack of hope. Throughout. Even the happy ending (in the book) has immediate hopelessness and loss to it. (The movie's happy ending felt like, "Yes, we 'won.' But it wasn't enough.")
And that last one, even more than the others individually, gives me pause. Put these all together, and by the end of the story, whether book or movie, I feel hollow, even dirty. I feel like I have been torn down just about as much as Katniss has been. But it's not because I've literally gone through everything she has, and it's not because I relate with her 100%. I like her okay, and I understand a degree of where she's coming from, her motivations, and her actions. But I'm very different from her and get frustrated along the way.
What Kind of Message?
It's not a happy book. Not every book has to be happy; I get that. But the "no hope" laced throughout and coloring the ending is, I think, damaging to people. People need hope. It's damaging to me. I need hope in order to get up in the morning. This work of fiction tends to sap it from me, translating into real life where I interact with real people, oozing a loss and hopelessness through my actions by taking root in my thoughts and feelings.
What is the message of The Hunger Games? What do you take away from it? Can you see how things could be better (and if you can, why couldn't/didn't the author?)? Is it a warning story? Watch out, or this will happen to our world (it is, after all, futuristic United States of America). Is that Suzanne Collins' goal? Is that enough?
Now we have to ask what we do with the story. It does get us to think, I'll give it that. Where do our thoughts take us?
And Happy Hunger Games
There are many more things I could say about The Hunger Games. Things I like, and things that concern me. And I could continue on into Catching Fire and Mockingjay. But for now, I think this is plenty.
Do you have a reply for my concerns? What are your thoughts on The Hunger Games, both book and movie?
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