When It's Hard to Not Look Back

Does so much of the past year beg to be forgotten? Never to be thought of again? 

Swept under the rug. Thrown out with the garbage. Burned. Buried.

...in someone else’s yard.

 ...in a land far, far away.

But, it can’t be truly forgotten. To be truly forgotten would be as if it never happened. However, it cannot be treated as if it never happened, because it has shaped us for the rest of our lives. The hurt, the sadness, the loss, the grief, the anger – no – rage, the loneliness, the emptiness. And the scariest of them all, hopelessness.

I don’t know about you, but it was the hopelessness that threatened to pull me under more than any of the other emotions.

What the past year can be is:
• forgiven
• learned from
• redeemed

I was blown away by a quick look online for the definition of redeem. Want to see it?

Starting Ugly

Writing challenge: Day 7 - Great Writers Start Ugly

Ack! Is there any doubt? That's why I hate starting, because it's ugly. The process is brutal and puts one on a whole new level of vulnerability.

Hello! This is me starting something new. 

Please pardon my mess whilst I figure out exactly what it is I am doing.

• Writing projects are messy. Page after page of handwritten notes get scribbled through and rewritten.
• Remodeling projects are messy. Deconstruction must happen before reconstruction.
• Personal projects are messy. Day-to-day gets backed up while making way for change.

I have seen the painful labor and exertion and miserable business which God has given 

to the sons of men with which to exercise and busy themselves. 

Ecclesiastes 3:10 AMP

Why, oh why, do I put myself through it? Because I can't help it. I have to start. We are made to start. Our Creator God made us creative, gives us ideas, and compels us to start. I don't know about you, but I'm most  unsatisfied when I'm not starting something I've been told to start. (Sorry - I've just said start a ridiculous number of times in one very small paragraph. See? Ugly, right?)

But God...

He has made everything beautiful in its time. 

He also has planted eternity in men’s hearts and minds 

[a divinely implanted sense of a purpose working through the ages 

which nothing under the sun but God alone can satisfy], 

yet so that men cannot find out what God has done from the beginning to the end.

Ecclesiastes 3:11 AMP

I am eternally grateful that God, Who tells me to get moving, also sees me through each and every step. It gets beautiful over time. He is faithful to His promises and He will do it.

I know that there is nothing better for them than to be glad 

and to get and do good as long as they live.

Ecclesiastes 3:12 AMP

Kind of makes the ugly part of starting seem beautiful, doesn't it?

Well, almost.


Linking to Word Filled Wednesdays and

 

Of Sea Creatures and Kings

I wrote last night. I wrote this morning. Upon opening my email I discovered today's writing challenge. Day Four: Practice. In public. 

Ohhhhh! This isn't at all what I thought I would post today. I have a house update for you. But for now you're going to be privy to my first-thing-in-the-morning thoughts for today. Here goes.

*  *  *  *  *

Yesterday was fun. Brian and I took the day, our anniversary, to be tourists in our own city. We visited the aquarium, Titanic exhibit, went window shopping. I savored one very pricey dark cappuccino truffle (worth every penny), and we ate at two restaurants.





Sea creatures are fascinating in ways different than others of the animal kingdom. Maybe it's because they live in an environment so unlike our own. Totally under water. All the time.

They are beyond graceful in their movements, even the creepy ones. The little octopus held me captive, staring at it for the longest. Yet, at the same time I shook off the willies that sent chill bumps up the skin of my back. How can something so repelling be so alluring at the same time?

Source

I touched a starfish and a couple sea urchins. They were stiff. I thought they would have some give, like play dough or a pin cushion. The way they move in their habitat gives a different impression of how they feel to the touch.






Uh oh - am I like the starfish and sea urchin? Having the appearance of being approachable, do I give an invitation but have a rough, even prickly surface when people get close enough?


I'm afraid I do this. There is a protective coating around my heart, an outer layer to my personality in order to keep a distance.


But, why? I haven't been abused. There is no dark secret lurking in my past.


I wear the badge of the introverted proudly. But seriously, if this keeps me from allowing contact with people God would have me minister to, then what is this? A badge or a suit of armor? A white picket fence or a ten-foot privacy wall?


No, it is an excuse.


At our Bible study on James we discussed favoritism. The curriculum described favoritism as picking and choosing who we will give audience to. Like a king who requires people to bow prostrate before him, face down on the palace floor until he chooses to lift their face. Or not. A person could lay there all day and night, get walked on, and passed by without being acknowledged by the king. They never get the opportunity to bring their issue to the attention of their king because he doesn't choose to see them.

What makes one person worthy 

and another not? 

Do I do this?

Sometimes. 

I am ashamed.

So, I approach the throne of my King and lay prostrate before Him ready to beg forgiveness. But this King on mine does not leave me lying on the floor. This King does not step over and ignore me. This King, my example, lifts my face so I can look into His eyes of forgiveness, mercy, and grace.


He lifts my head, picks me up, sets my feet on solid ground and commands me to do the same.


Show love. Be merciful. Be one who will lift the face of the person He puts before me so they can see Him in me.

But You, O Lord, are a shield about me,

My glory, and the One who lifts my head.

Psalm 3:3 NASB

The One Scary Thing

There has been a recurring theme for me lately. Do the scary thing! 

Look that scary thing smack in the face and conquer it by getting it over with. 

The one scary thing for me is to form (or perhaps more accurately, form again) the habit of writing every day. I used to write every day, but haven't for some time now. No excuses, just got out of the habit. So, why is it scary to start again?


As a kid I was on the swim team at our YMCA, but I can remember some mornings sitting in the parking lot with my mom waiting for me to hop out of the car because I was scared to go in. Or, there was the time I was invited to go play at a friend's, but was scared to walk there because between me and her house was a backhoe working in another yard along the way. Speaking in front of a group of people was terrifying , but I had to do it in school.


All of these situations have something in common. Once I got there I was okay. I loved swimming with the team. My friend and I had a great time playing together. I actually found that I was pretty good at public speaking and began to enjoy it. There are so many more examples.


So, what exactly is so scary to me about writing every day? What is the fear? This list is probably going to be pretty lame, but here goes.

1. I don't know what to write about.
2. My husband's going to complain I'm spending too much time at the computer.
3. People won't like what I have to say - or worse yet, they won't even care.
4. I'm not any good.
5. It's going to take too much time and I'll get behind on my "real work." (Whatever that is!)
6. Why am I doing this, anyway?
7. ......Okay, enough of this. It IS pretty lame, isn't it?

I have answers to all of these.

1. Write about anything that comes to mind.
2. Actually talk to my husband about why I am doing this. He'll understand. Surely. :-)
3. Who cares?
4. Oh, I'm alright.
5. There are probably a few things I could cut from my schedule to make room for writing.
6. Because I am a writer.

Here is the plan. I will write every day. The challenge is to get up earlier and write in the morning. To be honest, I've never tried that before. Nighttime has always been my preference, but there are so many excellent reports from people who claim morning is the best time, I'm going to give it a try. There may not be a blog post every day, but you can be sure there will be more posts if I'm writing every day. This will be incentive for me to get those projects rolling so I'll have some things to show you.

I started this blog because I wanted a reason to write again. The new house and yard gave me the desire to write again. Am I really a DIY'er? I wasn't before, but I am becoming one. Thanks to so many other great blogs I've been reading, I have a list of ideas a mile long. 

There are still projects to start; some that need to be finished. 

There is life to be lived and good to be done. 

There are words to write and people to encourage.

I am grateful for the challenge.

I sought the LORD, and He answered me, and delivered me from all my fears.

Psalm 34:4 NASB

I am linking with:

I Am A Writer

During the next three weeks I am excited to participate in a writing challenge. Not sure yet exactly what I'm going to be asked to do as part of this exercise, except maybe to write.

Today's challenge was to make the declaration, "I am a writer." So, here it is:

I am a writer!

Want to have a little fun with me? You'll notice the title of the challenge is "15 Habits of Great Writers." Well, one of my habits when I write is research. I like definitions and examples. What exactly IS a writer? I went straight to my trusty dictionary. Yup - the hard cover one with loads and loads of pages inside. It smells like the books in the library my mom used to take me to when I was little.

I sort of didn't like that the definition for writer was sandwiched between 

write-off , writer's cramp, and writhe. 

But, hey, it comes with the territory, right?

Next stop in my research was the scrapbook my mom made for me several years ago. In it I found some of my early work.

Circa 1965. Guess I would have been about 4 and a half at the time.

There was a piece of fiction....

...and poetry, which made up a large part of my writing. This piece I remember distinctly because my fifth grade teacher hung it on the bulletin board outside our classroom door. Misspellings and all. Such an honor! (This occurred in a era when you could talk about Jesus in public school without getting into trouble.)

As I grew and continued writing, my teachers encouraged me.

To this date I have written and written and written. I have boxes of journals and scores of poems. There were the two "novels" I wrote in junior high on Big Chief tablets, my way of expressing the secret crush I had on a boy who shall remain nameless. The only people I let read them were my favorite English teacher and a couple best friends. I've written lyrics, Bible studies, scripts, devotions, stories, articles, letters.

Just like the rest of you who, like me, are writers.

We are writers.