I Will See You Again

When did it get to be September?

This is the month, a year ago, of Mom’s long hospital stay after her big “event” (heart attack, several TIA’s, whatever else they were or weren’t able to ascertain that she’d suffered). A year since I attempted to bring her back and care for her at home again, then gave up ... yes, it still feels like that. A year since the close of that last, precious summer with her, mid-May to late August, and the memory still haunts me of how the exhaustion eroded the edges of my gratitude for that time.

We aren’t supposed to waste time angsting over our failures any more than we should linger over our accomplishments ... “one thing I do, forgetting those things which are behind and reaching forward to those things which are ahead” ... but sometimes the guilt and questions and insecurities swamp us.

I am weary with my groaning;

All night I make my bed swim;

I drench my couch with my tears.

My eye wastes away because of grief;

It grows old because of all my enemies.

And the grieving is a palpable, physical thing sometimes.

God never leaves us, I know this. I know. And He doesn’t abandon us to our grief and guilt—but the deliverance isn’t always immediate. In fact, it rarely is. And I find myself thinking about that lately, what it looks like when “My grace is sufficient for you” doesn’t mean deliverance at all (Paul’s thorn in the flesh or the heroes of the faith referred to in Hebrews 11) but instead is the searing core inside that shoves us from one aching, weary step to another on this journey.

The month hasn’t been completely without consolation, though. Another budding branch of the family has come to visit, then sent on their way after a wonderful week. Leaving us with another layer of mourning.

Sometimes I feel like life is nothing but layers of mourning.

And then, today, I was reminded of this verse:

Therefore you now have sorrow; but I will see you again, and your heart will rejoice, and your joy no one will take from you.

Just as we look forward to the next time we’ll see our older kids—the occasion of a wedding—there’s another reunion coming, the ultimate in family reunions with all who believe in Christ. The ultimate wedding, when we join our Redeemer and Lord, the One who shed His own blood for us. And then, as I said elsewhere, there will be no more pain, no more misunderstandings, no more worrying about appearance or performance, no more sorrow or separations.

And I, for one, cannot wait.

On asking why ...

Story, Lord. I don’t get it. Is it really just all about the story?

Here you made me a writer, and I’ve spent years now, studying story. Here I am reading Accelerant, and thinking ... Haegan, poised on the edge of doubt and fear, longing to be released from his own calling ... yet guarded unseen by two Deliverers. Why? Why Haegan? Why don’t the Deliverers just mete out divine judgment, and be done with it? Why the long, terrible, painful journey?

Why my own journey? Why do You choose fallible men to carry Your word and do Your will? Why do You continue to let us slash and hurt each other, disappoint each other, trample Your grace and spurn Your mercy, and yet ... You love us? You choose us and draw us into Your kingdom, to have us do Your work and eventually make something of us?

I don’t get it. What’s the point? Why not torch the word into oblivion? It’s what we deserve.

And later—much later—I’m thinking about the propensity of life to set us up for heartbreak. Is that You? Just as we writers search for the great dramatic irony that fuels our stories, are You also building that into the story that is our lives?

... when I am weak, then I am strong ...

... God’s light shines brightest in the darkness ...

... after death, then resurrection ...

 ... His loss, our gain ...

... humble yourself, and He will exalt you ...

Really, why? What is the point?

And He whispers to me, You don’t need to know that yet. Just trust.

I realize, maybe that IS the point. To trust. To walk. As I’ve said before, not the destination (at least not any that we perceive with our human minds as a destination, here on earth), but the journey.

Every step of the way toward the One who, as He told Abraham, “I am your shield, your exceedingly great reward.”

Because HE is the point. He is our destination.

And I guess that really is all I need in this moment.

On Books: To Review or Not To Review

For anyone who follows me on Goodreads, you may have noticed how terrible I am about updating my reading lists. Several reasons for that. One, my reading habits are often random and sporadic. Two, as someone who's trying to walk a fine line between being honest and yet not putting a stumbling block in front of others, I may not always want to admit what exactly I'm reading ("do you have freedom? good, enjoy it between yourself and God and not before those who would be offended"--a rough paraphrase about "meats offered to idols" issues). Three: I might be reading for contest judging and can't really SAY that.

Of the ones I admit to reading, I review even fewer. Part of that is because I know I'm picky ... I hate hurting people's feelings ... and I'm blessed with SO MANY writing friends that I can't possibly read everyone's stories, much less be perfectly objective about the writing. I did recently offer to read and review a novella written by a fellow Colonial Quills author, Tamera Kraft. It was a very good story, lingered with me long after I finished it, and yet I only gave it 4 stars.

Why?

For starters, Goodreads has a slightly different rating style than, say, Amazon. 4 stars according to Goodreads is "I really liked it" while 5 is "it was amazing!" I rarely give books a 5-star rating anymore unless I'm just head-over-heels in love with it ... but I've read a lot of perfectly good stories, perfectly enjoyable ones, that might not peg the "amazing" in me because of some nitpick or another. So they get 4 stars.

I'm a writer too, for crying out loud. And studying the craft tends to bring out the nasty internal editor. It's been a hard fight to regain the love of reading for its own sake.

Also, I'm picky. Did I mention that I'm picky? :)

This year, because of the prodigious (for me) number of books I've read already (many of them contest reads), I decided to keep track. As of last night I've read a total of at least 65 novels and novellas, just this year. If that seems excessive, I assure you my husband and children read a lot faster than I do! I won't tell you everything I read but I might, just for fun, tell you about some new favorite authors, and what I like about what they do.

In the meantime, if I've reviewed your work in the past, or if I happen to offer a review in the future, please try not to be disappointed if I "only" give you 4 starts. Because after all, 3 stars on Amazon might translate as a "meh," but Goodreads says it's "I liked it." :) But if I feel like I can't give you at least 4 stars, I probably won't write a review.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Resurrection of Hope by Tamera Lynn Kraft
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

A young woman still grieving the loss of her fiancé, a young man determined to take care of her as penance for that loss ... he knows he’s no substitute for his friend, who died in the Great War, but he’s loved her forever.

One problem, though ... he can’t risk telling her how he really feels.

The opening scene of this story sucked me right in. The rest is a little slower, a little less emotionally gripping, but this is a very sweet story. I could feel the ache and weariness of Vivian’s grief, of her struggle for Henry’s attention and approval. Though painful at times, the emotional and spiritual journey of both characters is brought to a beautiful and satisfying conclusion.

I was given a copy of this book by the author for an honest review.

View all my reviews

And life goes on ...

So much for my intent to post more often!

We just finished up a very busy week of visiting with our oldest son and his wife and our grandbaby of not quite 9 months old, celebrating our second-oldest daughter’s graduation from high school, and having front-row seats to our second-oldest son proposing to his girlfriend. So much joy, so much life, so much potential for even more life and joy ... and at some point, more sorrow and heartbreak.

Because today the son and daughter-in-law and grandbaby had to pack up and drive back to her parents in Omaha to catch their flight home in South Carolina. And the front-row seat to the other son’s engagement was via modern media, 1600 miles away.

And graduating one kid from high school at home is always bittersweet because the uncertainty of college and adulthood comes next.

And ... we’re all waiting for news of whether my oldest daughter, after dealing with infertility for almost three years, and suffering the pain of a very early miscarriage last month, is finally carrying a baby with hopes of holding it in our arms and not just in our hearts ...

The newly engaged son called very late last night, choking back tears that his Grammy is in heaven now, and he can’t immediately share with her that her last prayer for him was answered yesterday.

As wonderful as life is, sometimes we can hardly wait for the coming day when there are no more goodbyes, no more separations and no more loss. As I told them all last night, it isn’t that we immediately want to go end it all, but it seems every experience just sharpens our longing for that.

I have to remind myself that we need to embrace the longing as fully as we seek to embrace the joy.

Because there are joys enough on this journey to savor and celebrate, as well as the joy that awaits us at the end.

And that grandbaby is absolutely beautiful. :)

If We Do Not Lose Heart

Long, long journey through the darkness

Long, long way to go ... (Enya)

It’s hard to keep going with a dream, year after year, when you see door after door shutting in your face. Hard to keep believing that dreams even matter, in the face of real life and all its brutality.

I’ve written before on why stories matter. God has a way of using them to sneak truth past the barriers of the heart—consider Jesus and His parables, or the way most of Scripture is basically story after story. With all the things I could be doing with my life—and all I have done, aside from story spinning—I’m amazed that the call to Story has remained the strongest constant for me, after the call to be a child of God.

But oh, it’s a hard road at times. Not that God hasn’t graciously given me bits of validation along the way. It’s part of what’s kept me going.

Everyone has doubts, I know this. There are times mine amount to merely flopping around in my insecurity, knowing I need to just put Behind In Chair and Hands On Keyboard and WRITE. There are other times when discouragement fills the air like a dust storm, in every breath I take whether I choose it or not, choking me and making me wonder if it really is time to hang up this silly writing dream and get on with real life. I mean, just how many writer’s conferences can I ask my hardworking husband to spend money on, before I can begin paying that back? How many late nights do I stay up, pounding out words on a page, making me slow and cranky with my family the next morning? And when, like last summer, every drop of my energy and then some goes to intensive care of a loved one, and I know that my efforts are just temporary at best, and then an entire summer’s progress evaporates in a matter of days and I know it’s completely out of my hands ... I wonder if it’s all just an exercise in futility anyway and why should I return to being so driven?

Then, in the aftermath of Mom’s passing, knowing I face the same physical issues she did, I wonder how many more “good” years do I have before the diabetes overtakes me and I too begin to physically crumble? What do I want to spend that time on?

I want to live more intentionally, of course. But what that actually means—? Planning takes time and thought, which looks dangerously like doing nothing to everyone else. But it’s time I must take, regardless.

I also know I don’t want to burn the rest of my years chasing a fickle publishing market. Over and over the past few months I’ve heard, Write your heart! Write the story God gave YOU. Be the you that He made you to be, not an imitation of someone else.

So, if God made me to be a writer, and if I believe He gave me these stories, then ... it only follows that He has a plan. Maybe that plan doesn’t involve publishing—or at least not traditional publishing—but it could. And once again I’ve needed direction, confirmation, that I’m still on the right path.

I mean, there’s waiting on God, and then there’s just waiting. Right?

You see, just after Mom’s passing, I received the news that Sue, my agent of just over a year, would be moving on to something else. Startling, disappointing, but I knew God has His reasons, and a plan. In the meantime, Sue mentioned another agent—twice, even—and though I had my doubts that she’d be a perfect fit, based on what she says she’s looking for, I have a lot of respect for this woman after watching her for years in the industry and following their agency blog, so I took the leap. I also had doubts that the project I was pitching her (something brand new) would really fit with the particular publisher Sue told me to mention, but I mentioned it anyway.

And then I waited some more. The doubts became more intense.

Years ago, the Lord told me that when He opened doors for me in this business, it would be in such a way I’d know it was Him doing so and nothing else. This was no exception. Like most things of this kind, however, it loses so much in the actual telling.

The upshot of it all is that I’ve just signed with a new agent. Tamela is incredibly comfortable and enthusiastic and encouraging so far, and my head is still just spinning with awe when I consider the groundwork that led to this, all things that God set in place, some more than ten years ago.

And as a bonus ... I’m being given free rein to go as "big" with the new story as I like. I'm almost dizzy with the possibilities.

And let us not grow weary while doing good, for in due season we shall reap if we do not lose heart. (Galatians 6:9, NKJV)

The season isn't over, not by a long shot. There are still miles to go on this journey--and make no mistake, I know it's more about the journey than the destination.

But I'd say God has given me a really huge chunk of validation this time, wouldn't you?

Fresh hope is so very sweet.