Ticky Tacky Little Boxes

It hit me broadside: the blinding question of who I am, and who I should be.

I ran to Lolita, and in rushed, anxious whispers, asked: Who am I? Who should I be? Usually I feel fine in my own skin, but right now I want to wiggle out of it and run away. Am I really ok?

It had to do with my age, and shaking someone’s categories up, and them not knowing what box to put me in, and usually I quite enjoy doing that to people, but this time, for whatever reason, I didn’t.

So Lolita told me some nice words and hugged me, which usually puts most anything into rights again, and I’ve stayed in my own skin, and not moulted as I was thinking of doing.

Instead, I’m noticing grey hair appearing on my head at an amazing rate. It’s a fascinating phenomenon.

Grace upon Grace

One my favourite Scripture pieces is John 1, and lately verse 16 rings repeatedly in my head: Out of his fullness we have all received grace in place of grace already given.

Grace on top of grace. Generous, copious, extravagant gifts on top of gifts. I live in this reality, and the wonder of it takes my breath away.

Then this morning I read another of Mark Galli’s excellent articles, (you can read it here) and it resonated deeply with me.

… in all its simplicity, it all its miraculousness, God’s word to Mary, God’s word to us: “Hey you. Yeah you—favored one!”

Biblical commentators and novelists have fun speculating why Mary was greeted like this. She is often pictured as a devout young woman, pure in heart, whose righteousness won her the honor of bearing Jesus. But in fact, the Bible shows no interest whatsoever in Mary’s life prior to this moment (and relatively little afterward). This announcement to Mary comes completely out of the blue, as if it were an act of sheer grace.

Indeed, an act of grace to Mary and to us. Before we could decide for or against God, before we could show him how religious we are, before we could ask forgiveness for our first sin, before we were the apple of our parents’ eyes, before the foundation of the world, God favored us. Not because he knew we would blossom into greatness. ….No, we were favored when God knew well enough that we would fail to live up to our potential, that most days we would be miserable little disciples. Yes, in spite of the fact that we would be sad, fearful, doubting, anxious, and sinful people, he favored us.

I think that life can never be the same after we have heard his words: “Hey, you there, you favoured one!”

Bright Flakes

In one day, two friends gave me bright pieces of sunshine with their words. Like snowflakes catch the light and shimmer and shine, these words, unrelated and seemingly random, reflected light and glory to me:

The best moment of your life is right now!

God has once again baffled me by His exuberance and lack of moderation.

My Wondrous, Silent Gift

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We were girlfriends waiting for a train. It was Christmas time in the city, night, but not dark. The evening had been magic, walking through snowy festive streets and exploring the Christmas market in Warsaw’s Old Town. We became like walking snowmen, coated with falling snow.

Rather than wait for the train in the underground station, we chose to wait above ground in the fresh air. We stood in a big, untracked space where people had obviously kept to the walkways and left the snow untouched. I discovered it made an easy ball, and instantly I knew what to do while we waited.

I handed my bag to my friend, tied my scarf so it wouldn’t get in my way, and started rolling a ball bigger and bigger. Packed it firmly, rolled it some more, and put more snow around it to stabilize it. In maybe ten minutes I had built a snowman just shorter than me. He was nicely proportioned, and his stance showed that he was happy.

But what do you use for a snowman’s face if there’s no gravel or coal or carrot around? You improvise. On the far side of a building I found a pine tree and broke off some little bits. The bare pieces made eyes and a nose, and a twig made a charming smile. With a little greenery, the snowman got some hair. Curved branches formed his arms reaching toward the sky.

I cannot put into words the satisfaction and delight I found in those quick ten minutes. It was almost like celebrating a sacrament or a revival. A bubbling, rollicking joy in making something out of nothing, delighting in the sparkle of the ball as it rolled and grew, giving the face a personality with its smile, and hoping that it would make strangers smile as they rushed to their train.

I bet the world would change if everyone made a snowman.

Down His Secret Stair

Something I love about God is His unpredictability, His surprises, doing what we least expect. “He knows our need, to our weakness is no stranger” and He meets those needs/pleas/by-gone prayers in His own secret way. This is my favourite Christmas poem, but it’s beautiful at any time of the year:

That Holy Thing

They all were looking for a king
To slay their foes, and lift them high:
Thou cam’st a little baby thing
That made a woman cry.

O Son of Man, to right my lot
Naught but Thy presence can avail;
Yet on the road Thy wheels are not,
Nor on the sea Thy sail.

My how or when Thou wilt not heed,
But come down Thine own secret stair,
That Thou mayst answer all my need,
Yea, every by-gone prayer.

–George MacDonald

Green Dolphin Street

After I finished reading the epic Lord of the Rings I didn’t know what to read because anything else felt like an anti-climax. An insightful friend recommended I re-read Green Dolphin Street. I had read it before and had been profoundly moved by it. Coming back to it now, it’s great fun to revisit the scenes and dialogues that held my attention back then.

Elizabeth Goudge does a superb job of portraying colorful, believable characters. These people live in a plot that shows their adventure and imagination, creativity and skill. Now and then she moralizes, but it’s more like she’s giving away her own worldview and insights for her readers to take or leave. There are sentences and paragraphs that take my breath away with their punch and color. She describes people’s personalities incredibly well. Oh yes–and there’s a hero not unlike Aragorn.

So there’s today’s book recommendation!

My Cyberspace Friends

I’m one of those touchy-feely people. I often find myself touching the person I’m talking with, squinting my eyes in response to what they say, nodding or cocking my head to listen better. I value texture, sound and proportion in full, real-life dimensions. That’s why I can’t believe it when I hear myself say that I share deep, meaningful communication with several ladies I’ve never met. But it’s true.

I met Linda when we were both in shock over the death of Isaac. Linda knows my sister, but not me, and our point of contact was our mutual grief at the loss of a wonderful, gifted young man. As we kept writing, we discovered more mutual points of interest and experience. She was teaching English in Mexico, and I loved her stories of her passion about her young friends and their adventures. We still keep in touch even though our worlds are more dissimilar and I’m amazed at how we understand and identify with each other. What a gift it is!

It was through Boundless that I found Elizabeth. I happened across her article “One Single Day” and liked it alot, but didn’t make contact with her until much later after reading other pieces she’d written. Her articles are listed and linked on the ‘writing’ page on her blog. In the last year, we’ve emailed and chatted now and then. She absorbed some big questions I dumped on her, and was a calm, caring voice that restored my equilibrium. She’s given me alot with her gentle words.

Ann is a extraordinary artist with words and pictures. She has graced me with thoughtful, gentle emails in response to my messages to her. Farmer’s wife and homeschooling mother of six, she blogs with wisdom and honesty that gives me permission to believe again in the power of words. I can’t wait for her first book coming next year!

Dorcas has written several books, and blogs frequently about everyday, earthy, homespun things. We’ve emailed now and then, and she’s been a witty, warm voice that makes me wish we could drink tea together. It was her advice that gave me the final push to self-publish my book, and I’ve been so grateful. She also gave me good counsel and comfort when I was kerflumuxed about criticism about my book. I hope we meet sometime!

Ok, this post has to hold the record of having the most links. That’s the point of these friendships. I only met them through some link. I’ve never heard the timbre of their voices, or seen how tall they are or how firm their hugs. Still, I feel a kinship, an understanding of souls, having only met electronically. For this I am grateful, despite my huge reservations about cyber relationships.

Friendship and communication are complex things. It’s hard to rate or quantify the dynamics. Written words are the only way I’ve come to know these ladies who have given me so much. I’m thankful for their words, even though the words are one-dimensional, and they limit how well we know each other. Despite the limitations of our friendship, I’m very rich for having them flying in my galaxy!

Immanuel

I used to think that when I grow up, I’ll have answers to big questions. I’ll know how to be, how to say the right things, have good answers. Now I’m coming to see that answers aren’t as important as faith. And faith, it seems, is ok with questions.

Faith means being relaxed about the reality that some questions don’t have answers. Faith means asking questions and not demanding answers. Faith means taking the next step that is only dim but has enough light so as to keep me from losing my footing.

These days, when I ask God hard, big questions, He doesn’t shed much light on them. He doesn’t explain everything. He only keeps telling me that He’s with me and everything is going to be ok. Faith is at ease with darkness and questions, not with answers, as I’d thought.

My friends buried their third baby yesterday, a boy this time. It doesn’t matter that they already have five beautiful girls. It helps that they are surrounded with loving friends, but it doesn’t take the pain away. The questions of loss and wasted pain and empty arms don’t have any answers. Not in this era of reality. There is a deeper reality, which is where faith rests. Meanwhile, we hold hands and cry and ask for miracles. Faith believes in miracles, and there are no small miracles. Each one is amazing. Maybe the biggest miracle of all is that He, Immanuel, is with us.

Can I see another’s woe, and not be in sorrow too?
Can I see another’s grief, and not seek for kind relief?
Can I see a falling tear, and not feel my sorrow’s share?
Can a father see his child weep, nor be with sorrow filled?
Can a mother sit and hear an infant groan, an infant fear?

No, no! never can it be! Never, never can it be!

And can He who smiles on all hear the wren with sorrows small,
Hear the small bird’s grief and care, hear the woes that infants bear –
And not sit beside the nest, pouring pity in their breast,
And not sit the cradle near, weeping tear on infant’s tear?
And not sit both night and day, wiping all our tears away?

O no! never can it be! Never, never can it be!

He doth give His joy to all: He becomes an infant small,
He becomes a man of woe, He doth feel the sorrow too.
Think not thou canst sigh a sigh, and thy Maker is not by:
Think not thou canst weep a tear, and thy Maker is not near.
O! He gives to us His joy, that our grief He may destroy:
Till our grief is fled and gone He doth sit by us and moan.

(“On Another’s Sorrow” by William Blake)

Book Promotion

Because I self-published my book and live several thousand miles away from most of my readers, I’ve been limited in marketing it. I’m hugely indebted to many friends and relations who have gone to bat for me, and helped me with the logistics of shipping, handling, and promoting the book.

Now it’s your turn. If you do my legwork, you get free books!

Here’s the deal: If you refer Life is for Living to a bookstore and they order a minimum of twenty books, you earn a free copy of my book. There is no limit to the number of bookstores you can sign on (these will make great gifts so if you’ve already ordered one for yourself, you can save the next one for a friend). If the bookstores around you are small and don’t keep a big inventory but several sign up because of you and their orders combined total twenty, you will still get credited.

You can leave a comment here to tell me who you’ve talked to, but you need to make the initial contact to get credit. And be sure to remind the bookstore to tell CLR you referred them when they place an order! The helpful staff there will be glad to get your book to you!

Here is CLR’s contact info:

CLR Distribution

28500 Guys Mills Rd.

Guys Mills, PA 16327

Toll Free: 877-222-4769 begin_of_the_skype_highlighting              877-222-4769      end_of_the_skype_highlighting

Phone: 814-789-4769

Fax: 814-789-3396

Email: clr@fbep.org

Online: www.Christianlearning.org

My Book

Having spent four years poring over my book, I had come to the place where I couldn’t bear to look at it anymore. Recently I picked it up to browse through it for the first time in probably two years and I cringed several times. I understand this is normal for authors.

A friend asked me recently if I’d change anything in my book if I had the chance. I wouldn’t change the premise of the book, but I’d add some things, take other lines out. I’d definitely delete qualifiers and italics. I had no idea there were so many in there. It’s a peculiar feeling, reading my own book.

I wrote the book with the conviction that God didn’t intend His daughters to live in grey hues. I saw young women approach their thirties, and when there was no romance on the horizon, they became desperate or depressed. I knew that when they chose these options they were grieving God because He designed them for more than depressing jobs or marriages of desperation. I didn’t want to write a I’m-a-single-woman-hear-me-roar kind of book, but one that looks honestly at the losses that come from singleness, and finds joy and grace. Because that’s how big God is, and I love Him very much and I love how He keeps breaking out of the boxes we put Him in.

It could be that the book sounds chirpy and glib. If I rework it, I might try to fix that, put more depth in it, though now I don’t know how. The great thing about publishing your own book is that you can change things in it at the next printing. I like brainstorming about a new cover and a ‘new and improved’ edition. I’m open to suggestions.

I love hearing from my readers, hearing their stories, peeking into their worlds. I felt especially triumphant when a friend said she was reading it and it made her mad enough that she threw the book across the room. (She’s still my friend!) What’s the point of writing something that doesn’t evoke some response? I was also happy when a reader said the book inspired her to read The Chronicles of Narnia even though she had always said she wasn’t interested in backless wardrobes.

I’ve been amazed at how many mothers and pastor’s wives have told me that they were encouraged with the book’s message. I hadn’t intended the book to be something for them, so their audience is a bonus to me. When single men ask about it, I always tell them I didn’t write it for them, but if they read it they may get a good picture of the kind of woman they should be looking for.

I’m a dreadful business person, having an aversion to numbers and percents and such. I don’t like marketing my own book. (I was comforted recently to find that a favourite author feels the same way here.)

If you’re brainstorming for a gift idea for a lady, you might consider giving her a copy of Life is For Living. In the next day or so I’m going to post a promotion for the book, so stay tuned.