New Book Possibilities

Posted in My Book, words by

Having written one book has given me a sort of identity crisis. Who am I if I don’t write? Who am I if I DO write? An authority? A personality? A full-time student/researcher? I have only some answers to some questions.
What is an author? One who writes.
Does one book mean there are more to come? Not necessarily.
Does writing a book mean the author is an expert on the chosen subject? Maybe yes, likely no.

In case anyone wonders, this is the truth: just because someone writes one book does not mean they can or will write another one. I think that as Christians who are stewards of gifts that God gives, we should write when the fire burns inside, and not just to vent or air our opinions and experiences.

So, apart from blogs and personal correspondence, I don’t know if I’ll ever write again. It’s been almost 2 years since my book came out. It’s just now that I’m starting to begin to hope I can write another book sometime. It won’t be soon, and I’m no hurry. My friends flatter me with their suggestions for the next book but I don’t expect to fill any of these orders. Still, it’s fun to think about the possibilities.

Suggestions:
How your siblings become your friends
Mennonite missions in 1st world countries
A book for young teen girls
Living Outside of Eden
A devotional book for women (to borrow a friend’s metaphor: I think we need another one of those like we need another Nobel Peace Prize)

Messiah at the Cathedral

Posted in music by

A long time ago, last Saturday night to be exact, a bunch of us went to the old cathedral in town. We got in early, sat close to the front and watched the technician tune the harpsichord. At 8, the announcer told us to check that our mobiles were switched off, and reminded us of how special it is to hear Messiah in a church that was built around the same time Handel composed the music.

I don’t know which part was my favourite because there were so many. Phrases and choruses keep running through my head. A man of sorrows…And His glory will be seen upon thee…Surely He has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows…All we like sheep…blessing and honor and glory and power be unto Him, be unto Him…

They were the Irish Baroque Orchestra and Resurgam Chamber Choir, conducted by John Butt. It was a stellar choir and a gifted conductor, skillfully portraying Handel’s dynamics and eloquent pauses. The transcendent moment for me came when they started the crystal-clear, powerful chords of “Worthy is the Lamb.” It was like angels’ singing.

The music is powerful and moving in itself, but wedded with the words of prophecy, suffering, rejoicing, and triumph, Messiah is meaningful to me in ways that little else is. Driving out of the car park afterwards with a group of friends, I had nothing to say, but wanted to be quiet and savor the echoes in my mind. Sometimes the only fitting response to music is not praise, but silence.

Recommended Christmas Story

Posted in books, Ireland, life, words by

It’s been a frantic week of shop keeping and baking and carol singing. It’s been good, but frantic, and during yesterday’s duties I felt particularly as if I was moving in a slow, creaking gear. “Little smiles and little tears are all we’ve brought” was the line that repeated itself in my brain. It was my line, the only thing I could offer to anyone.

It’s the line from the poem “How Far is it to Bethlehem?” by Frances Chesterton. The line is the one Elizabeth Yates uses in her lovely Christmas story “On That Night.”

This morning I was part of the city market crew, to sell cakes, bread, and scones. I learned again that I am solar powered, and can sell things well. If the sun shines, anything is possible and everything is wonderful. And I can talk people into buying things because I’m enthused and happy.

Town was wonderful. I fell in love again with life and with Waterford City. The air was crisp and cold, and did I mention, bright? People met my eyes and smiled and/or waved and drivers were polite to each other. I rode the bus back to the bakery, to bake apple tarts and lemon tarts, thoroughly revived and ready to work for another week. This time as I worked, the little smiles and little tears were gone, and instead I sang and laughed and joked. Yup, I’m solar powered. The Romans used to call this country Hibernian. After 13 winters here, I understand why they did.

This evening six of us young ladies sang several songs as part of the carol service in St. Andrew’s Church in Dunmore East. It was a lovely evening of Nine Lessons and Carols, with a huge crowd of friends and neighbors packing the (drafty) pews. As we meandered out into the cold crisp night, I thought again of Yates’ “On That Night” and the magical, gentle night when the characters in the story left their prayer time, went out in the snow, and found what they’d lost. I hope we get snow now too.

Next week, hopefully things won’t be quite so frantic. I hope there’ll be an evening when we sisters can sit by my fire and take turns reading “On That Night” to each other. I love the wistful, gentle, worshipful story written by a gifted lady.

As far as Christmas stories go, I can’t choose my favourite between that one and “The Christmas Miracle of Jonathan Twomey.” Both deal with love and loss, grief and miracles, and have parts where I choke up and parts where I smile every time I read them. Do yourself a favor and read at least one of them this week.

My Book News

Posted in My Book by

The good news is that as soon as the printer delivers it (hopefully no later than February), my book will be available at:

CLR Distribution

28500 Guys Mills Rd.

Guys Mills, PA 16327

Toll Free: 877-222-4769

Phone: 814-789-4769

Fax: 814-789-3396

Email: clr@fbep.org

Online: www.Christianlearning.org

I’ll post more details when the books arrive.

Just…One Star

Posted in music, words by

No easily-accessible internet service for the last week has attributed to the silence here. But now I want to share one of my favourite readings of the season. Thanks to aunts and uncles with good music taste, I grew up listening to “Christmas in Velvet.” I still love the swoopy, vibrant arrangments. Every time I hear “What A Merry Christmas Party!” I want to grin like a child. This is the very effective reading they include with “The First Noel.” It takes great poetic license, and I love it.

Back in the throne room of heaven plans were being made to announce the birth of God’s son. Michael the archangel had just finished describing his display of heavenly comets and falling stars. Gabriel went on with his musical plans, a great angelic choir of tens of thousands of voices tuned with heaven’s finest and latest harmonies, ready to serenade the earth.

God interrupted the conversation. “No,” He said, “That’s not really what I had in mind. I planned a small gathering in Bethlehem, actually. We don’t need all the trimmings.”

“But, oh, my stars!” said Michael. “What will I do with them?”

“And my music?” Gabriel added.

Just then, Jesus stepped through the pearly gates and out onto the red carpet of Time. He started down the stairway of stars.

Michael pled, “Father, let us do something! He can’t go unannounced!”

“Well, alright,” God said. “Gabriel: a few angels. Michael: just…one star.”

–source unknown, narrated in “Christmas in Velvet” by Derrik Johnson and The Regeneration

From the Emerald Isle

Posted in life, My Book by

If you wandered over here via Dorcas’ blog, welcome!

About my blog: there’s little rhyme or reason as to when and what I post. Most of it is ramblings and musings about life, wonder, and God. Subscribe to email posts using the button on the right, or use your feed reader of choice. (Being a bit of a blog junkie, I LOVE Google Reader!) Nose around my recommended book list and pieces of advice to wannabe writers, and leave a comment if you agree or even if you don’t.

About my book: Unfortunately, due to some mistakes, it is out of print but not forever. Stay tuned here for news of the next printing. I wrote the book with a target audience of single women ages 20-30 because that was the scope of my experience and I didn’t think I could speak into anyone else’s experience outside of that. It has been most surprising and delightful to hear from many people outside that narrow scope. I love how God dreams bigger than I do.

I dream of a living a life filled with words and people, where no one needs money, and windows never get dirty. But I live in the real world (albeit a wonderful world on this clear bright moon lit night), and so now I’m off to wash dishes.

The Weekend Magazine

Posted in Ireland by

Part of my Saturday ritual is to read the Irish Times Weekend Magazine between taking care of customers. Today’s edition had an exceptional article of an Irish lady’s take on Thanksgiving. It made me laugh and nod in agreement several times. Enjoy!

Giving Thanks

Posted in Ireland, life by

“Is everyone unhappy?” the child Lovejoy was to ask Vincent in despair.

Vincent said, “Everyone,” but after a moment, when he had thought, he added, “That doesn’t prevent them from being happy.”

—An Episode of Sparrows, Rummer Godden

For the last week I’ve been reading about people in the US who are gearing up for Thanksgiving. I feel far away and detached, an interested on-looker, fascinated by the movements and ruminations of people doing something I’m not.

When our family moved to Ireland in April of ’96, I was homesick now and then but the worst moment was on the first Thanksgiving Day. It had been my favourite holiday, because it was simple and happy, and now no one even gave a nod to it. I was devastated and felt sure that this was a heartless, cruel, God-less place to live.

Now, 13 years later, it’s ok. Thanksgiving as a holiday seems like a foreign entity, like part of another lifetime (which it is), like something I can be an observer in without being a participator. And, because I don’t have to be at work til this evening, it’s sort of like a holiday anyhow, only without turkey and cranberries, and I’m ok with that.

Part of the change of heart has come about because of the passing of time. Other people and priorities precede the importance I once placed on my favourite holiday. Now, Thanksgiving is something I try to observe daily.

Every night, before I let myself turn off the light, I harness my memory to eek out and write down at least one thing that I’m thankful for, one thing that happened that day in which I heard God say “I love you” to me. It is the best, most helpful spiritual discipline in my life. It is the one thing I urge everyone to do, and is required of my students in Godly Womanhood class. My Thanks Journal is a tangible record of many intangible things. It turns my mind to God instead of letting me dwell on all that makes me unhappy. It reminds me of God’s faithfulness and my dependency on Him. Sometimes I think a long time before deciding what to write but that’s not God’s fault.

Today I am thankful for:
-the toasty warm evening and sibling camaraderie last night at my brother’s house
-a pleasant job environment
-books and pens and my laptop
-sparkling good health after a year’s illness
-girlfriends who I can call whenever I need a sounding board and wise words
-Godly men who believe in my book project and support my calling to teach
-my parents who have ‘marinated’ me with life-priorities of love and service
-dreams and ambitions and plans
-grandfathers whose worlds are big, and who forged a path that led beyond their ‘back forty’
-God, who in all times and in all ways, showers peace and joy in dews of blessing

Today’s Slice: The Storyteller

Posted in life, My Book, words by

This evening I wept to read “The Storyteller” on today’s Slice of Infinity. It moved me deeply because I believe in the power of story–am overwhelmed with it really, because all my life I will be plumbing its depths–remember how other storytellers have influenced me, and tremble to think I can tell stories that influence others.

I loooove hearing from readers of my book. It happened yesterday again, (and I cried again. )I hear that there are some who don’t like my book, but that is second-hand information; no one has said it to my face. It is cowardly not to confront the author if you don’t like the author’s message–but I digress.

Back to sharing stories: it is in sharing my story that others honor me by sharing theirs. Then this interesting synergy takes place: we are both richer for having shared. Aren’t we richer for knowing and hearing the greatest Storyteller in the universe? I am going to spend my life and eternity sitting at His feet, listening to His stories.

For where your treasure is…

Posted in Sunday School by

The SS lesson focused on various pieces in Proverbs that addressed intemperance, drunkenness, and the temptation of wine. I wasn’t into talking about alcoholism, and instead pursued a side trail that addressed issues of the heart that lead to intemperance of all kinds. It’s easy to think the drunk has it all wrong but what about our excesses that we justify easily?

One of the ladies explained that in her mother tongue, Portuguese, the word that sounds like our word ‘temperance’ means ‘seasoning.’ I like that. No one wants excessive seasoning. We can take anything to excess: work, sleep, relationships ( a biggy for us women), hobbies, on-line time, food, exercise, church. Paul wrote to the Galatians that the only things there are no laws against are the fruit of the Spirit. You can never love too much or have too much peace or joy.

Thus, the only way to avoid excess is to have Christ capture our hearts, and make Him our highest joy. Out of that comes fruit that is pleasant and never excessive or intemperate.

Whatever rules the heart will exercise inescapable influence over one’s life and behavior.

If something is your treasure, you will live to gain, maintain, and enjoy it.

The things we set our hearts on never remain under our control.

—Instruments in the Redeemer’s Hands, Paul David Tripp