Fly by writing updates

Quick updates on how the Lord is encouraging my writing:

First I got my last lesson back from my mentor (which I posted here previously) and she said it was ready for publication!! So after graduation stuff, I will be looking for a market for this. :)

I also heard back from MOMSense magazine about an article I wrote about my two nephews. They didn't buy it at this time, but want to hang on to it for possible future use. I have to notify them if I get it out elsewhere. So I will also try marketing that article around too.

God is so gracious to encourage me during this hectic week. For those reading this, also pray for my back as I am feeling a little "tweak" this morning and cannot afford for it to go out this week. Now I am off to get going on the chores at hand today (carefully!) in preparation for graduation stuff later in the week.

Blessings!

Preparations, meditations

This continues to be whirlwind few weeks as the end of the school year winds down. While we haven't been running every night, there still seems to be a long list of to-do items.

Our girls are preparing/finishing finals, our son is home and looking for work, I am trying to finish up a couple of freelance jobs before the week ends, and then I can try to get the house together for family arriving next week. I am going to begin volunteering at a magazine once a week so I can learn more of the details of writing for one, so I have been lining that up as well.

As far as my own writing goes, I have been bogged down by both busyness and emotions and haven't gotten any done recently. My son said something to me that jarred me: "Write even if everything you are writing will need to be trashed and you have to start over."

All I could think is what a waste! I can objectively see the value of what he's saying, however my practical nature recoils in horror at the waste that it could turn out to be. Then my pastor reminded me that the Lord said to write. He didn't tell me I would be successful, just to write. Okay, back to that obedience thing again. Sometimes I wonder how long it will take for me to receive all the Lord desires to do in me and through me.

I probably won't be on much the next week or so with family here and graduation. Have I said how incredibly proud and blessed I am for my daughter?? The Lord has fashioned for Himself a valiant, compassionate, beautiful, woman of God. How grateful I am for His faithfulness in her life. I am so grateful that she now considers me a friend and not just her mom. :D

I was considering a mother's heart in the midst of Mother's Day, as well as this season of our daughter graduating. Paul speaks of pouring out his life as a drink offering: "But even if I am being poured out as a drink offering upon the sacrifice and service of your faith, I rejoice and share my joy with you all"(Phil. 2:17).

This is truly what a mother does from the moment she holds her baby. From the two a.m. feedings, to rocking the sick child through the night, to letting them go to school for the first time. From the sacrificing of sleep, nutrition, time, and energy, a mom pours her life into her children. And we do so willingly. (At least most of the time :P).

Now my days are not sacrificed so much in time, although that still happens. No, my sacrifice and pouring myself out is now more in prayer. My children are either adults, or almost there, and they no longer need mom to hold their hand or tell them how to do something. But I can still pour my life into theirs as I intercede for them and for the decisions they are making.

I am not only proud of each of my children for what they have accomplished at this point in their lives, but for the people they are. God has done a marvelous work and I know that many times it is in spite of me rather than because of anything I did. Our Father is so faithful. I trust Him to continue to strengthen and encourage each of them throughout their lives. They belong to Him, may He receive all the glory.

Breathing Prayer

Prayer is hard work, no doubt about it. When Paul admonished us to pray without ceasing, visions of nuns or monks cloistered away from the world, down on their knees praying in absolute silence is what comes to mind. However, I am finding that praying without ceasing is becoming something that is like breathing.

Lately there have been several situations in the lives of loved ones that have been distressing. Issues of the heart, health concerns, anxiety over choices being made have all crowded my heart and mind constantly.

There have been nights of little or no sleep, days of busyness weighted down by the intercession I have been called to do. And I have found that when the burden is great, I am praying without ceasing. I am breathing prayer.

As I lay in bed awake at night, I doze off with prayers on my lips. As I roll over and inhale, another prayer goes up. During the day, as I work, my mind is occupied with the task at hand. But my heart is still praying. How do I know this? Because whenever I stop to “catch my breath, ” whenever my mind stops just for a second, there is prayer going out of me, just as I exhale each time. I am breathing prayer.

Just yesterday I received a copy of Pray! magazine and one article is titled, "Breathing Prayer." I found it an interesting "coincidence" that this article showed up at the same time that I had been contemplating this. The author's focus was different than what the Lord had been showing me though. This pastor was seeing how the act of breathing could be a reminder of allowing the Holy Spirit to live and work more freely in his life. He quoted a prayer/poem by A.B. Simpson, who was founder of the Christian and Missionary Alliance:

"Breathing Out and Breathing In"
Jesus, Breathe Thy Spirit on me,
Teach me how to breathe Thee in,
Help me pour into Thy bosom
All my life of self and sin.

I am breathing out my own life,
That I may be filled with Thine;
Letting go my strength and weakness,
Breathing in Thy life divine.

Breathing out my sinful nature,
Thou hast borne it all for me;
Breathing in Thy cleansing fullness,
Finding all my life in Thee.

I am breathing out my sorrow,
On Thy kind and gentle breast;
Breathing in Thy joy and comfort,
Breathing in Thy peace and rest.

I am breathing out my longings,
In Thy list'ning loving ear,
I am breathing in Thy answers,
Stilling every doubt and fear.

I am breathing every moment,
Drawing all my life from Thee;
Breath by breath I live upon Thee,
Blessed Spirit, breathe in me.

Good stuff to contemplate. Blessings.

More on writing

Yesterday's article was insightful for me to write, but also to see the responses of those around me. When my oldest daughter read the first paragraph, she was horrified. "Mom, you really did that and thought that??" Yep. There is my dirt.

Her response hit me on a couple of levels. First, that gratefully she was shocked that I could respond that way. I take that to mean that I don't normally function that way anymore. Praise God! The other thing was that the environment she has grown up in has taught her the honor and blessing it is to serve. How different from the self-absorbed world in which I lived. God is so gracious.

Another thought that has crossed my mind of late is that writing, whether fiction or nonfiction, requires a deep level of honesty and vulnerability. By honesty, I mean really dealing with deep emotions and the truth of how ugly life here can be and how glorious our Father is. This, at least to me, is a very vulnerable place.

As I have written in the past, growing up I thought the most important things in life, the way to succeed was to be practical and focus all my energy there. In doing so, I learned to stuff things down and didn't allow myself to learn how to deal with deep emotions. They remained, but hidden. And when they do come bursting out, usually at inopportune times, it can be messy. I don't really like messy.

So part of the struggle in writing is learning how to express those deep things in my own heart and on the page. And that makes me feel vulnerable. But I am learning that the more I write, the easier it becomes to allow those emotions to flow onto the paper. And that is what makes the word on the page come to life—when it touches us. When we read something and we are moved to laugh, cry, act. That is what I want my writing to be, an instrument to touch hearts and change lives.

Blessings.

Article

This is an article I am working on for one of my Guild lessons. It still needs some editing and tweaking. Just figured the more I get "out there," the better.

As a young newlywed working full time, I was approached by a woman at church to bring a meal to someone who was ill. I smugly refused, stating that I worked full time and didn’t have the time. Let those who don’t work full time do this duty, I thought. I remember the sad look the other woman gave me as she turned away. I stuffed down the conviction, and excused myself that she was judging me.

I continued my self-absorbed life for another year or so before the Lord got my attention again, in a much more dramatic and personal way. By this time I was pregnant for the first time. Life was proceeding according to plan; my husband and I were working and planning for the arrival of our baby. About two months before my due date, I began to leak amniotic fluid. I called my doctor who sent me to the birth center to be checked to verify the leakage. The doctor put me on a medication to prevent premature labor and ordered bed rest for the remainder of the pregnancy.

While a few days of lounging sounded heavenly when I had been working full time, the days now stretched on endlessly. My husband was working long hours in construction, coming home many nights too tired to do more than shower, eat, and hit the sack. The house was dirty. Dinners consisted of whatever fast food my husband picked up on the way home. The long weeks stretched before us, lonely and overwhelming.

At the end of the first week of my internment I received a surprising call. We had just begun attending a small new church. In fact I had attended only once, but knew two or three families there. The friend said that the ladies of the church knew I was on bed rest, that my husband was working long hours, and they wanted to bring us meals. Not just for a few days, but until I was released to be up again.

I was incredulous. Why would these ladies, some of whom I hadn’t even met, want to bring us meals? As meal after meal arrived, night after night, I was humbled again and again. These ladies brought us meals five nights a week for seven weeks.

Knock, knock. “Hi I’m Julie,” “I’m Carol,” “I’m Lauri.” Strangers at my door, coming to serve me. When a lady named Kim came one night, I began to question her about why she was bringing us meals. She was single, worked full time as a nurse, was involved in music. Her response floored me because she gave no thought to herself, “Because you have a need.”

After she left, her answer echoed in my heart over and over. All of these women gave not out of their convenience, but because of our need. I cried that night as I repented of my own selfishness. I had only looked at what I could do when it had been convenient for me. I realized that night the Lord wanted me to give when He called because of the need, not when it fit my timetable or what I felt comfortable or even adequate to do.

Now, twenty years later, I am ashamed of how selfish I was, and can still be at times. But the Lord has graciously showed me the joy in serving, the gift I receive when I am willing to serve. This is true love and I believe it is what the Lord commanded us when He said to lay down our lives for one another.

For over a year now the Lord has shown me this first hand. I have taken meals to a friend who has multiple sclerosis and whose husband has recently gone through radiation treatment. Both of them have been at a place that even a simple meal was more than they were capable of managing. But the need was waiting to be met. Is it convenient? No. Is it always easy? No. But there is great need all around each of us and we don’t always know where our gifts of service will have the greatest impact in the hearts around us. Sometimes it’s as simple as taking someone a meal.

When I look back at how far the Lord has brought me. Wow. I'm sometimes amazed that anyone even liked me back then. And I wonder what "dirt" do I still have clinging to me today? In another 20 years, what will I look back on in awe of His redemption? Praise the Lord, He has promised to complete the work He has begun in all of us.

Writing on...

Yesterday I spent a good portion of the day working on a lesson which requires me to analyze an article. I am finding that while there is some basic structure to most articles, they don't all fit the format. Kind of a "duh" moment. Just like in art, there are rules, but the rules are there to lend structure not to kill creativity.

I am once again struck with how the Word applies to every area of our lives: the letter of the law kills, but the Spirit gives life. Problems arise when someone like me, who loves routine and structure, tries to abide by the letter of the law and finds that the life has been sucked right out of whatever I am working on. Okay, Lord, I get the reminder once again, I have to abide in your Spirit and follow His leading. The "rules" for any area are really only guidelines, not unchangeable laws.

My husband pointed me to a recent post by Mike Duran which I read today. It was certainly food for thought. I am still learning how to allow people in to be those supporting my writing. I have shared it only sparingly with a select few. I think partly from fear of being laughed at and partly from fear of being held accountable to actually do something. Flip sides of the same coin. Silly, really. But who can understand our warped minds and hearts? :P

Also this post caused me to consider that some of what I have been going through lately could actually be attack from the enemy who doesn't want me to write. Which makes me want to write all the more, since that confirms what the Lord has called me to do.

Another good reminder came from the post by Rachel Anne Ridge on Writer Interrupted. She wrote a analogy based on her donkey and how he has gotten stuck in ruts of his own choosing because he never looks up. Hmmmm . . .that can also certainly describe me: a creature of habit. Okay, I see the point the Lord is trying to make with me today. Gotta look up, gotta walk freely in the Spirit, dare to try to new things, and LOOK UP! :)

Senior Breakfast

Yesterday we attended our daughter’s senior breakfast that included a capping ceremony. Before the ceremony, each student attending (which unfortunately wasn’t the whole class) was asked pick an individual who has been important in her life and to write whatever she wanted to express to that person. During the ceremony, the student invited that special person to put his cap on while his appreciation for that person was read aloud.

Our daughter chose her dad, which is no surprise since she is definitely a daddy’s girl. I was thrilled to be the one taking pictures. My daughter has been generous this year with expressing her appreciation to us, so what she wrote was only confirmation to us. But what moved me to tears was the sight of seeing over 125 young adults telling someone thanks.

There were the obviously moving ones: the daughter who thanked her dad who was her role model. She wrote that he has missed many important events in her life because he is serving our nation in the army. She was grateful he was here for this one.

Or the young lady who wrote proudly of how her mom has defied the doctor’s prognosis to her when he said she’d never see one child graduate from high school due to congenital heart failure. The daughter exulted, “And I’m number two!”

Or the student who picked her fifth grade teacher because she had encouraged the student when she was shy and insecure. The girl wrote that her teacher taught her it was okay to offer an answer that might be wrong and to keep learning through that too. There were students who picked a Young Life director, former and current teachers, an aunt, a sister, a brother, a grandmother; people who were instrumental in moving these teens forward in life.

There were countless students honoring dads, saying they were their heroes because they taught their sons and daughters to work hard, to believe in themselves, to stand strong even when times are tough, to dream, knowing that the parent will always support them.

There were students who honored moms for always being there, for being their best friend, for always being available to talk, for requiring them to do well in school, for believing the student could achieve when he didn’t think he could.

There were the funny comments too: You always told me, I still like you no matter what anyone else says about you. Or, you made me get out of bed every morning. Or, you kept pushing me even when I was a brat about it. And my favorite: You put diapers on my dirty behind, Mom, so I figured you could handle this cap too.

The thing that moved me the most wasn’t necessarily the specific sentiments that the kids expressed. The amazing thing to me was jock or drama queen, nerd or Mohawk-haired skater, valedictorian or the student barely getting to graduation, every one of these adolescents was grateful to at least one adult who had affected their lives and helped them reach this milestone.

The significance was a message we adults need to understand: Our efforts are not in vain. It matters every time I spend time with, talk with, hang out with, require of the kids in my world. They need adults who will believe in them and require of them, adults who can push them to give their best. In this mixed-up world we live in, so many voices are telling the youth today that they will not succeed, that their efforts don’t matter.

This is what I heard loud and clear at the breakfast: it is our voices they really want to hear and they really do listen to. They hear us even when they rebel against advice given, even when they seem to ignore it. Every investment I make in a young person’s life has lasting value even if I never see it.