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.

 

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.

One Lonely Late Night, I Remember

It's another late night (problem one). I want to finish a book I'm about 3/4 of the way through before next week, but I'm so easily distracted that I get online for one to three things and end up checking out probably two dozen (problem two). You know how it goes. The interwebs is (are?) a very interesting place full of just about anything you can imagine or want to know.

And in my meanderings, original goal possibly maybe fulfilled and long forgotten, I happened upon a blog post in which a woman mentions that she has her husband to fall back on. Nothing wrong with that; it's splendid and a huge blessing for her. But jealousy comes in different forms and is a wily beast...a parasite. And sometimes a fear. (problem three)

I want a partner to travel the roads of this life with. And as I am and have always been single, I sometimes wonder if I truly need another person--a peer, a teammate, a man, a husband. I've gotten this far and am making steps forward with life. If something truly needs done, I do it. Over the years, I've juggled and handled with moderate grace more things than I'd thought I could. What if I don't need a husband? What if I'm just fine on my own until I'm 91 and dying? What if I can handle the next sixty plus years as a single woman, on my own without any backup? Does that mean that's my future? These thoughts frighten me.

That life sounds lonely.

I know I'm not out on my own yet, but I will be. And I know I won't ever be completely alone: I'll still have my relatives and friends. Someday I plan to have a dog. Most importantly, the Holy Spirit abides in me, Jesus intercedes for me, and God the Father leads me. That's hardly alone (though I admit it often feels alone [...problem four]).

I want someone to mutually take care of. Marriage in all its mucky, gritty, intimate, loving, hopeful glory. But there are times I catch myself worrying (problem five) that I won't need it, so I won't get it. I'm too tough or too independent (those of you who know me, I'll wait for you to stop laughing...) to need a marriage relationship.

Earlier I was slightly marveling that I was cleaning away spiderwebs like they were no big deal when normally I will avoid them and pretend I can't see them just so I don't have to risk heebie jeebies. Or spiders crawling up my arm. But I handled the situation. I knew I could so I just went at it and did. (Like I was an adult or something!)

Around home I periodically joke "Reason # ___ Why I Need to Get Married". (To my ironic delight, opening up jars is not one of those reasons as long as I have this handy thing nearby.) But those are all in jest; I know I could find some other method, including do it myself, to take care of the need or want that a husband could meet. Spiders needing squished, peptalks and encouraging words, toilets needing plunged, communicating with the repairman, day/road/plane trips to somewhere new, budget planning.... Or I could simply do without. Cuddling up on a rainy day (okay, really any day), romantic dinners...anywhere, sex, going home to our home, being protected, talking about dreams and wishes and hopes before the day ends, having a partner for life, being wanted as a partner for life....
(*Please note, I know a husband is not for "honey do" lists and spider slaying with no other purpose, benefit, or need. [Though spider slaying would be a perk.] These two lists are just things that quickly came to mind and are not intended to be exhaustive.)

::sigh:: So, traveling this familiar path of I-don't-know's and will-I-ever's (problem six), I remembered a quote by Paige Benton that I saw in a book about people in the Bible who were single (and can be found in her article which I found here. The quote is good, and the whole article is worth a read.) Honestly in the moment it's hard to swallow, but at the same time I know it's true, and after a little bit of thinking through, it helps recenter my thoughts:

I am not single because I am too spiritually unstable to possibly deserve a husband, nor because I am too spiritually mature to need one. I am single because God is so abundantly good to me, because this is his best for me. It is a cosmic impossibility that anything could be better for me right now than being single. The psalmists confirm that I should not want, I shall not want, because no good thing will God withhold from me.

So for now I'm single. And for now I'm learning how to be single well, however long I remain such. Whatever happens next, it will be because God is so abundantly good to me.

  

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.

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?

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.

Belated Valentine Sap

First, a word of wisdom from a young woman I know:

It's never a good idea to fall in love with someone you've never met. It always ends in tragedy. Especially if you never meet.

Second, a poem from yours truly:

He stands on the stage
Blind to those around
Singing his heart
Uplifting my own

He knows a good show
And keeps it sincere
His love pours out
All charm and treasure

It's impossible
And some dreams must
But I hope mine won't
Simply turn to dust

...Thoughts on Valentine's Day? Love it, hate it, apathetic, ignore it?

 

We Love Authors, Do We Not?

Ever been discouraged? Ever think "This is it. This is all there is for me. My life might as well be near its end."?

Me too.

Recently I was talking to my students about the two doors of story (for more on the two doors, read James Scott Bell's Plot and Structure). The first door is The Change that thrusts the character into the story. It's where the story actually begins. Before The Change we simply have introduction...of the main character, of important side characters or villains or love interests—whoever is logically located and important that early in the story, of the setting or world, of the rules of magic or law or ordinariness, and things along those lines. Sometimes the introduction is so brief it is practically a part of The Change. Sometimes there is a lot of setup before The Change.

Sometimes we see the story goal before The Change. But it's often more clearly expressed after The Change. That's when we really understand what the protagonist is trying to achieve or gain. That when the story embarks. It gets underway. It leaves the nest to build its own home. Gandalf marks the door and dwarves show up with a thievery plan. The Ring can no longer stay in the Shire. Bruce Wayne returns to become a symbol for Gotham. Dom Cobb takes one last job so he can return to his children. Echo Sackett arrives in town to collect her inheritance.

That when things get interesting. And complicated.

I was thinking about this, The Change, the first door. And I was thinking about my life. If my life were a story, how far into the tale of events would it be? The end? The introduction? The huge plummet before the resolution? Somewhere else entirely?

If I were writing a character based on myself—an early twenty-someone, aspiring but distracted writer, trying to help take care of her family though she is neither a wife nor mother, waiting for something to turn for the better but unsure if it will because many of her dreams have been crushed or forgotten, who is so confused as to where she is in life that she doesn't know how to navigate anymore—where would I put her in the story?

Actually, I would place her right before The Change, right before the first door where the story starts hopping along. Things would be building and falling into place, and I would set up a large story that she has no idea is about to happen. A grand, life-long adventure that would sweep her off her feet, build her up, break her heart, bring healing and unprecedented joy. She would take some steps that set her in the right direction, and the choices of others would send her on her way.

And I believe that I am a part of a story. A big story. Bigger than I'll ever author. It may not be exactly like I would plan it, but that's okay. That just means it'll be better. And it's far from over.

Did you know that Jesus is described as an author? I've recently been encouraged by Hebrews 6:9-12, 10:35-39, and 11:35-12:2.

Therefore we also, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us lay aside every weight, and the sin which so easily ensnares us, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking unto Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith, who for the joy that was set before Him endured the cross, despising the shame, and has sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.

Hebrews 12:1-2. (NKJ)

If we enjoy a story and think it's worthwhile, we like the author. Or, even if we don't like the author, we at least recognize that we like what they created.

God is The Author, and real life is His story. If I would care enough about a fictional person to give her something good and use her to tell a compelling story, how much more will my Father orchestrate my life to be and to receive blessings that point back to how good of an author He is?

Absentminded Woolgathering

I watch and I wait and I try to hold fast. I am a shieldmaiden of the shelter, defender of the home, but not an adventurer or soldier on mission. My assignment is wait, watch, hope.

Essentially, this fellow said it perfectly. I have thoughts like that at times; I often wish for such pivotal life moments. But they don’t always happen the way they’re expected. Sometimes I have a sweet thought of a romantic moment, and suddenly I’m disappointed because I realize it probably won’t happen that way. I’ve “jinxed it,” or rather, God’s plan is always better than mine if mine is other than His, and often He chooses to surprise, so I don’t imagine that my daydreams becoming reality will be His primary method. Sometimes my imaginings are creative, but I have to remember He is more creative than I.

I am a shieldmaiden, so I watch. But when the meeting comes, I will likely be caught off guard, unprepared, and at a loss for words. My first defense is silence. My second, quiet reasoning. It may be agonizing, wishing that I could act, that I could speak, but it will be perfect. It may be shy and sweet, but it will be perfect. It may not seem like the life-changing moment it is, but it will be perfect. It may have movie soundtrack music in the background (though that might be awkward), but it will be perfect.

Perfect because I didn’t plan it; He did.

And that is enough for me.

Fiction ...And Real Life... Can Tie Together

Marriage is not the solution because singleness is not a problem.  They are both good.

Ah, okay.  Now that I have that lovely thesis statement, the rest of this post may or may not have anything to do with it.  You see, I was writing a novel (don't worry, I still am).  I wanted it to be a romance.  I haven't written romance stories before (though I do like the subplot option sometimes) but my best friend writes romance, I like romances, and I thought I'd give it a try.

Welp, I tried.  Moving on.

No, really, I did try.  I had my characters semi-solid in my mind, my setting basically figured out, and a fair bit of the backstory in my head.  But probably about five or seven thousand words into it, I realized that my leading man would never choose the leading lady over his fiancée if the two women were side by side.  Even though the direct comparison is impossible in the story, it wouldn't be very satisfying to anyone (the characters, myself, and most importantly readers) if my leading lady was a second best.

And so, the romance died.  My book turned on its head, and I was left trying to patch together a plot that works and satisfies.  But, never fear (not that you would, and that's okay), that is happening.  I am far far far behind where I wished to be, but that is also in the works.

So I guess the whole couples/marriage/single thing has been in my mind for a while.  Concentrated, that is, on my story.  Now, I want my leading lady, the main protagonist, to be satisfied and happy even with being single.  But, I confess, it was pretty hard to figure out how to do that for my character when I couldn't do it for myself.

Thus the thesis.  (Hey, I am tying this together!)  Singleness is not a problem to be solved because it's not a problem.  Singleness and marriage are both good things in their own time.  It's just something that I've come to realize recently, largely due to a friend sharing this.  I think my life had been leading up to hearing that for...oh, say...eh, we'll call it six or seven months.  Let's not think about it too hard; just recognize that it's been a process.

Now, I am freed of the worries, fears, and even aimless hopes that I personally have had for years.  I have never been more excited to be single.  Maybe I won't be single for my whole life...and maybe I will.  But now I understand that singleness is not a problem.  It is a good thing to be enjoyed and used to its fullest.

Now I think I can give my character the same appreciation.

Problem solved.