The best part of writing a book is getting feedback from readers. In the back of the book, I invite people to write me and share their story with me. I’m hugely honored to get emails and letters that introduce themselves and their lives. The one thing all of the letters have in common, no matter where they come from on the globe, is that they carry some degree of heartache and betrayal, loneliness and longing. Some say more about it than others, but it’s always there. In two years, I can remember only one letter from a reader that spoke of her happiness and delightful romance.
Of all that God has shown me
I can speak but the smallest word,
Not more than a honey bee
Takes on her foot
From an overspilling jar…
–Mechtild of Magdeburg
Part of my calling is to be an ear for ladies who have no one to listen to them, and I enter into this gladly. But sometimes I wonder where the happy stories are. Right now I’m ready to listen to something lovely and smiley and warm. It can be anything that you saw or heard or felt today or ten years ago. It can be about a rainbow you saw, or how your husband won your heart. It could be the pansy you found smiling at you, or the gentle rain on your face. I don’t care what it is. I just want happy stories, drops of honey from an overspilling jar. Surely that’s not asking too much?
An African proverb says that a person who sees something good must tell the story. So let’s hear some, because I know they’re out there.
Write your story in the comments box OR email me (anitayoder[at]gmail[dot]com). I want to hear from you! And if you don’t have a happy story, well, that’s ok. Send me your sad one tomorrow. I want to hear that too, honestly. Just not today, ok?
Tis a Gift to Receive 
I think most of us have eras in which not even the thistles seem to hold anything that can be made into honey. I know I have. But living through those times has only emphasized the sheer joy of living on this side of those experiences… today it is realizing the dream of professionally aiding urban kids in a journey to healing that makes me feel as though all the world is a field of dewy daisies. 🙂
Right now I’m delighting in being in relationship with a Godly man. One who is not perfect, but who has a perfect heart toward God…I am so very proud of his humility (heh-heh, but really!), his willingness to ask for help, for the strength he offers to me and our sons, that he prays over me when I need it…and that he keeps pushing me to the Father when I’m tempted to make him the answer to my questions. Amen.
One of the most special aspects of teaching is the love that flows back and forth between my students and me. At our school’s recent graduation party, one of my students (the one who’s given me the most trouble and in whom I’ve invested the most time and prayer) waved to get my attention and called my name. Later he came over to talk a little. A small thing, but it made me happy. Another student gives me daily hugs–I tell her it keeps me from getting depressed. So the last day of school she gave me several extra hugs for this summer. This is why I love teaching 1st and 2nd graders!
My happy story:
Coming back home to NY from Iowa with my little girl, and watching her and her daddy reunite. They were so excited to see each other that D locked the keys in the running car when he came to pick us up at the airport, and we had the pleasure of receiving coathanger help from several good Samaritans! Little girl wanted Daddy to rock her to sleep before nap…usually a no, no…and in general didn’t want to let him out of her sight. I’m so happy to be married to a man who is a good Daddy.
Anita, you know some of my story (mostly the thorny, tearful parts), but there was a sweet drop of honey last week that I’ll tell you about. I went to a 15th birthday party for a friend last week and the first activity was a treasure hunt (I acted like a little girl and ran from one spot to the next and had a ball) that took us all over the beautiful park-like grounds where the party was held. Our last slip of paper told us to go to the pine trees and start digging. I immediately found a beautiful heart-shaped key-chain decked in flowers and swirls all over it. I loved it. It was just for me, I felt. Later I came home and started cooking up supper and my bag of thawing corn made a perfectly heart-shaped puddle on the counter. I was like, “what is the deal with all these hearts?” And in that moment I heard the whisper, tasted the drop of honey my Lover held to my lips: ” I treasure your heart. I want you to know that.”
He does write good stories. He does.
The past month has been hectic. On Saturday I had two hours-totally alone in my clean house. The girls were at their Grandma’s house all afternoon, when they came home the ypungest one came running and hugged me; “Mom,I’m begging of you, please,please can I hug you? I haven’t seen you all day!”
Life is frustrating and bitter at times, but the honey Is there.
Honey in dollops is having people who focus me on reality.