New Season

A new season has begun.  I hope I'm ready.
Seasons have come and gone in my life.  College, marriage, Village Inn, writing, motherhood.  Studying, working, staying at home.  And now, strangely, it seems like writing has come to the forefront again.  I didn't expect it.  Oddly enough, so often it seems like it is not until I give up my dreams that God allows them to come to pass.  I had given up the dream of really pursuing my writing; and then, unexpectedly, God has brought it to the forefront again.  I am applying to UNM's MFA Creative Writing program in the fall.  It is so exciting, and so intimidating.  I have to finish some writing samples for the classes I am taking in the fall.  I need to get advised and figure out all the little details which seem kind of overwhelming right now.  And then I have to try and wrap my mind around it all.  I can't believe I will be going back to UNM, eleven years after I started there as a freshman, and going back to school again.  I love UNM so much and I am absolutely thrilled.  Their MFA program looks like it will fit me beautifully.  And suddenly, my writing is at the forefront again.  I have also been accepted as a contributor to the Albuquerque City Mom's blog, I am still maintaining the DnD website, and I have several pieces to finish up as gifts.  I had put writing to the side for awhile, and now it is coming to the forefront again.
We are living in a new place.  Our lives are shifting, changing.  Change is hard for me.  The adjustment has been very difficult.  But I feel like I am finally beginning to see a little light in the darkness.  And apparently, the clarity on the other side has to do with me taking up my pen once again.

It's strange.  I have changed so much this past year.  A year ago, grad-school wasn't even on the horizon.  I really didn't have any desire to go.  And then God changed me-- literally changed my personality, in an instant.  Suddenly, I had different dreams, different desires, different plans.  God made it very clear that He wanted me to go to grad school and then teach.
I have been looking over some of my old stories lately, and tonight I listened to a couple of songs from Michael W. Smith's The First Decade, which is an album I listened to a lot when I was writing my first novel.  Wow.  His music sounds SO 80's.  It was a strange revelation that I didn't care for it anymore.  My style of music has changed; I have changed; my desires have changed.  It is a new season.
So let's do this.

Walk On

When the life you knew falls apart, it is easy to feel self-pity.  

That’s been happening to me lately.  I’ve been knocked down pretty hard, and it’s been hard for me to get back up.  I’m a pretty resilient person, but.  this has been difficult.  My life has completely changed.  We’re living in a new place.  The people who I saw every day aren’t there now.  Friendships have changed, shifted.  Suddenly I am facing a void of loneliness.  It took me ten years to learn how much richer relationships make my life.  Now, people are everything to me.  Relationships are more important than anything else.  And it feels like mine are falling apart.  

I don’t know how to get back up from that.  

But life is never completely empty, and kingdom work always goes on.  Always.  The ways I am battling this is focusing outside of myself.  There is writing to do, school to prepare for, husband and kiddo to work for, and new relationships to cultivate.  I’ll be honest.  It’s hard to cultivate new relationships when my heart is aching for the old.  But looking outside of myself is the only thing that helps me out of this pit of self-pity that I have fallen into so much lately.  

The circumstances are legitimately difficult.  It’s not surprised that I struggle sometimes.  But I don’t want to get stuck there.  So I’m trying.  I’m trying...

Falling In Love with a Place

Since we moved this week we don’t yet have internet at the house.  That’s okay though, since I have all my books back, I have had plenty to occupy my time.  I re-read My Friend Flicka this week.  It may be a “kids” book, but there are a lot of adult themes in it, particularly the relationship between the parents of the main character.  What really struck me, though, were Mary O’Hara’s descriptions.  I recognized, long before the book was over, that they had been written by someone who knew and loved the place she was writing about-- in this case, a ranch in the high country of Wyoming.  Only someone who knew and experienced it could put some of the little, intimate details she included.  It is a book that contains a lot of meat, a lot for me to chew on… my favorite kind of book.

My backyard, growing up.

It got me to reminiscing about my own childhood in the Jemez and the story I wrote once, The Summer I Left my Heart Behind Me, where I made the setting the place I grew up and based the main characters off myself.  When I had the story workshopped in one of my classes the parts that were most critiqued as “too perfect” or “unrealistic” were the ones I based off real life, while the “realistic” parts were the ones which came from my imagination!  I have always been highly amused by that.  But it’s true.  When you fall in love, you become more or less blind to flaws and instead see the beauty and delight of a person, place, or thing-- your views about them can seem unrealistic.

 For me, it was the mountains and conifer forests of northern New Mexico.  A place where I spent 17 years and forever lost my heart.  That love comes through in my writing.  It is supposed to come through in my writing.  For my writing was meant to convey my love of this place and my belief in the healing power of finding God in nature.  
This is a story I have never been quite satisfied with, I have never quite been able to finish.  But lately, it has been on my heart again.  Perhaps I will pick it up once more.

Joy is a Choice

Joy does not come easily or naturally to me. I tend to be rather a cynical person with a proclivity to worry. I will never forget the day when, as a teenager, I read the verse in Matthew where Jesus says, “Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to your life?” (Matthew 6:27.)  It was the first time it had occurred to me that worrying was a choice, and I could choose not to. It tied in with another verse I had recently learned, “Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus.” (Philippians 4:6-7.)  It occurred to me that I could give my worries and cares to God. I could carry them to the foot of the cross and then leave them there. It was an intentional act that I could choose to do, and then I didn't need to carry those burdens anymore. I began to do this.  I didn’t always think to do this.  But when I did, I felt a definite relief, a lifting of burdens.  As I did it more and more it became more habitual.  I honestly don’t feel like I became a different person, because I still wake up every day cumbered with the cares of my life.  But when I realize that I am dwelling on those, I can make an intentional choice to give them to Jesus, and let them go.  When I do this, I do have the “peace that passes understanding”, and joy easily follows.  

A few years ago I had a summer that changed my life.  I was given the opportunity to work at a camp near Colorado Springs, and the experience was so life-changing that rarely a day goes by where I don’t think about lessons I learned there.  That experience put me in company with the type of Christians I had never encountered before-- people of radical faith.  I worked on the kitchen crew, and we had a great dynamic.  We enjoyed great fellowship, we got along well, we had a light-hearted comradry every day.  I thoroughly enjoyed my work days because of my co-workers.  Then one day we were grumpy.  We were frustrated.  We lacked our comradry.  Our moods rubbed off on each other.  There were accidents and mistakes.  It was just a bad day.  At one point the camp secretary came in and she noted the difference by saying, “I miss our happy kitchen.”  Me too, I miserably thought, mourning for the atmosphere I had come to enjoy and not knowing if it would be restored.  

But the next day we all came down and everything was back to normal.  We were exchanging light-hearted banter.  We were joyful.  Our happy kitchen was back.  It was just a bad day, and because all of us were seeking Christ, we were able to lay it aside and move beyond it, not letting the difficulties of a few hours dictate our reality.  

Now, I live with people like that.  People who live out their faith in a radical way.  And today, we had a day like this.  My husband, and my housemate’s husband, were both late to work and frustrated.  My housemate had something happen in one of her familial relationships that was difficult.  And I, of course, was affected by everybody else.  I thought, this was going to be a rough, miserable day.  But instead, a couple hours later both guys texted us to say they were doing much better.  My housemate was also able to rest her cares in the Lord, and was joyful.  By noon, we were all doing as well as we had ever been.  We were joyful, our household comradry was restored.  And I rejoiced once again that I have the privilege of doing life with these people.  Everyone was able to give their cares to Christ, and lay aside the difficulties of the day, not letting the unexpected circumstances dictate how the rest of the day went.  They chose Christ.  They chose joy.  And I am so proud of them.  

As I thought more about it, I was realizing how gratitude and joy are so tied together.  I have work that I love, friends and family who enrich my life, health, and beautiful things to enjoy.  Gratitude for these was, and is, a choice.  Giving my burdens to Christ and allowing them to be left at the foot of the cross-- that is a choice.  Trusting God in the midst of worrisome and uncertain situations-- that is a choice.  And every morning, I have the choice to wake up and choose joy.  

This season has been one of the hardest of my life.  I have been challenged in my circumstances again and again, and it has been difficult to make that choice in the midst of disappointment, unfilled longing and unmet expectation.  It is as though God is challenging me to continue to choose joy when it is fundamentally difficult.   It is hard.  But the fruit is good.  The fruit of these difficult days is so very good.  

And so, though I am weary, though some days I fail, I will continue.  

I will continue to choose joy.

Transparency

I recently watched the film "Ragamuffin" about the life of Rich Mullins, a singer who tragically died in a car accident about 20 years ago.  I have always enjoyed his music and knew something about his story, but watching the movie I learned a lot more.  Something I have always appreciated about Rich Mullins was his emphasis on being genuine.  At one point in the movie he asks why we struggle so hard in the church to always appear put together, when church should be a place we can come, acknowledging our sins and our struggles and helping each other.  I have felt similarly for quite awhile now; I don't feel comfortable, even in church, crying or showing weakness, and most people I see there seem pretty put together.  James reminded me when I shared this with him that everyone has struggles even though they may seem put together, and allowing them to see mine is probably something they would appreciate.  It has helped me to try and be more genuine, more myself, in that setting.  
However, as I have been thinking about this again today, I realized something.  I realized that even though I am an intensely emotional person, I try very hard to only show the emotions I want people to see.  Of course, if you live with me eventually you will see the messy side of me.  But I try to hide my emotions much of the time.  When it comes to my feelings about books, music, movies, or the news I tend to be very stoic.  I will talk about the writing style, artistic execution, and grammatical or stylistic errors; but when it comes to feelings such as "that part was sad," "that part made me happy," "I really liked this character for this reason," etc, I really don't say.  The truth is, I don't even like people to see what kind of music I listen to, because I am afraid of what they will think.  I tend to find a song that will particularly capture my attention and I will listen to it over and over again for a couple weeks... then I will find a new song, and repeat.  But I don't like sharing that with people... in fact, James is the only one I have ever shared that with... because I am afraid of what they will think.  These songs are seemingly random-- random groups, styles, lyrics, and bands.  Sometimes it is a hymn or a Christian band.  Sometimes it is classical or instrumental.  A few weeks ago it was a classic song covered by the death metal band, Disturbed.  I didn't tell anyone because I was afraid of what they would think of my fascination with this song.
So I keep that to myself.  When I am at home I listen to everything with headphones.  I am stoic during movies.  I read news stories but never comment on them.  I will engage in political or sports debates because those don't really matter or involve real deep emotion.
In short, as I have been increasingly drawn to transparency, I am becoming more aware of my lack of it, which is, to say the least, humbling.

Light in the Darkness

When I look at the world around me, what I consistently see is a cycle of death.

Death is an inevitable reality to each of us, one of the few constants that is guaranteed, and cannot be stopped or reversed.  For some it comes sooner than for others. When a young person dies I am especially saddened, both by the reality of death and by a life never lived. Death always brings consequences, whether it is the impact on the loved ones left behind, or in some cases, far more severe consequences.  Murder often leads to revenge in the form of more murder, and the cycle perpetuates itself. We as people are prone to great evil, and as history marches on, I find this truth remains universally true: evil perpetuates more evil, and atrocities lead to revenge… lead to meting out the justice we believe to be deserved.

And then, into this mix comes Jesus.  Jesus, whose teachings go completely against the tide of popular culture and logical responses. Jesus teaches us to return good for evil. To love your enemies. To forgive those who wrong you. Not to take justice into your own hands. It makes no logical sense. And yet, when I look at the world, at the perpetual and increasing cycles of destruction and death, only where the teachings of Jesus are followed do I see life and light, a light that spreads out and touches all around it. Revenge does not solve the problem, ultimately it only brings more death; but forgiveness brings life, brings hope, brings change; it can change the cycle of death.   

In addition to teaching against the tide of culture and logic, Jesus also offers us hope. Hope that there is life beyond death, that the sorrows of this world are only temporary compared to an eternal reality- and he urges us to live in view of this reality. The Bible, the book that contains Jesus’ teachings, even boldly declares, “Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?”

Jesus stands, a lonely figure among many, walking resolutely upstream against a rushing current, and urging us to join him.  And for those who will take the plunge, there is guaranteed great hardship, and promised great reward.

I have been thinking about one of my D&D characters (Jason), and his story.  He had an encounter recently with an odd, morose figure (a death knight) named Damocles, and over the course of their interactions Jason shared his story with Damocles. Jason’s parents were killed and his village destroyed when he was a child, and all his life he had one goal: revenge. He went on to become a soldier and fought in the war, and eventually he realized that the only person his desire for revenge was hurting was himself, so he gave that desire up.  “Whatever would make a person give up a desire like that?” Damocles wonders, and Jason gives the reason honestly and frankly: he had an encounter with the All-Maker.  

It seems strange that a single encounter could compel a person to give up a goal they have single-mindedly worked toward for 14 years. But as Jason reflected on this encounter, what he remembered was a presence so powerful, and a love so pure, that all he could do was worship. It was an experience so profound that it brought a strong man to his knees and broke down the defenses of years.

This encounter would greatly affect the events that were to follow. It was not easy for Jason to walk this new path, and as the months and weeks went by he felt as though his very foundation was being ripped out from under him. He felt lost, adrift, and undone. He was being un-made, so that he could be re-made, and his story could be redeemed.

God has been doing the same in my own life. I have lately felt undone, my foundation ripped out from under me, lost, unsure of my identity and purpose. As God has slowly led me through that valley into the light on the other side, the instrument he has used is community. We so desperately need each other. As I have seen him working through community I am reminded again and again how contrary the teachings of Christ are to the world - and how beautiful they are in contrast to the ugliness all around us.

Ready.

I was thinking today about the first novel I ever wrote.  The characters I came to love, the story I spent hours developing, the glaring mistakes (like misspellings), and the not so obvious mistakes (like how I didn’t research what it would be like to be a lawyer in the 1800’s before making my main character one).  But I wrote a book-length manuscript at the age of 16, and, if nothing else, the experience was invaluable to me.  

But then my thoughts went further back.  My husband asked me today, “What did you do most of the time, growing up?”  

And my immediate answer was, “Read.”  

The truth is, most of my free time was spent reading.  Reading before bed, reading over lunch, reading after school.  My world was peopled with the characters I encountered through literature, and reading so much did birth a desire in me to write-- but I had no idea how that desire would ever come to fruition.  I had no idea how to develop characters or construct a story.  Then one year my mom suggested a program for me called “learn to write the novel way”, which would take me through the process of writing a novel and cover a year of high school english.  I was thrilled.  Finally, I would be able to take this deep desire and make it a reality.

My first book was a result of that program, and, as I said, the experience was invaluable though the result was feeble and faulty.  

I went on to earn a creative writing degree from UNM and my writing continued to improve by leaps and bounds, but I was still making a lot of mistakes, and when I read over manuscripts from that time it is rather painful to see them.  I have tried, from that time, to consistently put out creative content.  Sometimes I have succeeded more than others.  A year and a half around the time I had my baby I barely put out anything; but in this past year I have been very happy with my creative content, mainly poured into the website devoted to Dungeons and Dragons.  But having consistent output sparks my creative mind and helps me improve in my writing, if all I am doing is summarizing a session of DnD, I still think about how to make it sound good, what literary techniques I can apply to make it sound better, how I can improve my character development, etc.  

I feel like now, at the age of 28, I have finally become a good enough writer I could finish a manuscript and seriously think about publishing it.  But the fact that it took me 13 years to reach that point is rather daunting, and now I still have to finish and attempt to publish, which is a whole other daunting mountain.  Still.  Thinking of that today, felt like an accomplishment to me.  

Dungeons and Dragons and Life

On my birthday I got to play a long session of Dungeons and Dragons with my favorite character, a fighter named Jason.  I had an amazing time and Matt and Leanna planned some special things for me.  Jason is now a level 17 fighter, he is the highest level of any of our characters, because I have played him the most.  The reason I like him so much is not because of his abilities, but because of his character and story.  

What I am starting to realize about D&D is that no matter how much you try to separate yourself from your character, you never can entirely.  At this point I have been playing D&D for three years, in-game about eight years, and over that time I have played seven different characters.  Some characters I freely admit are very like me in one characteristic or another, while other characters were deliberately built to be different from me.  But the character I made to be most different from me has turned out to be most like me, which strikes me as strangely ironic.  

Circumstantially, we’re not exactly the same.  Starting with the basics, like the fact that he is a male character, and working our way outward to details like occupation (he is a former soldier.)  He lost his parents, I lost two children.  But both of us had to work through a process of grief, anger, pain, and forgiveness.  For both of us, that took about a year and included a very significant meeting with the All-Maker (God.)  Both of us have been struggling with personal identity and purpose, both of us have struggled with repressed, uncontrolled emotions which have come out in unhealthy ways (most notably, anger), and both of us have had significant moments where we were told to “keep fighting.”  These moments have paralleled each other in real life and in the game.  And now, finally, Jason has been given a new purpose, new weapon, and embraced the light to fight the shadows.  Something that is very similar to what has happened in my life lately.  

No matter how I try to separate myself from this particular character, no matter how different I feel like our lives are, somehow, some way, our story arcs end up being parallel.  It sounds crazy to think that God cares about D&D, but I no longer believe this is a coincidence.  I have been taught so much through this character.  I can’t wait to find out what happens next in his story, but the real reason for that is that I am excited to find out what happens next in mine.

Busy

Life is busy.

What my living room typically looks like
after the little guy goes to sleep.

As the mother of a (very active and mischievous) toddler, the majority of my days are spent taking care of him, chasing after him, and cleaning up his messes.  Usually after he goes down for a nap or after he goes to bed I just have to sit for a little while and look at the chaos all around me and wonder how one small person could have caused it all.  Then I will get up and clean up his mess one more time.  But as I put away his toys and his shoes I remember the sweet little boy who loves to share them, with his adorable smile, his kisses, and this cute ways.  It makes it all worth it.  

The truth is, I love my life.  

This is the cutie I get to spend
my days with!

I am doing what I always wanted to do: I stay at home and take care of the house, I can focus full time on raising our child, and I live with some other great people to boot which helps ward off the loneliness during James’ long hours at school.  

But it can be overwhelming.  

I look at the pile of books I can’t wait to read which I am (very slowly) working my way through.  I put the baby down for a nap and, ignoring the pile of dirty dishes which desperately need to be washed I instead set up my laptop and grab a cup of coffee, answering the creative itch which I have been feeling all day.  

I think back on days where I had hours to devote to reading or watching my favorite show.  

Countless minutes to waste in any way that I wish.  I do not wish for those days back, for in spite of the busyness of my life, my time is much more profitably spent now because it has become far more precious.  Moments when I can sit down and write, uninterrupted, are much harder to find than they were before.  Dishes can be done when the baby is awake; now, I write, the words flowing out as I answer the creative urge deep within me.  Sitting in the messy kitchen, earbuds in, computer open, coffee at hand.

Life is busy.  But I am blessed.  

As a moment of quiet descends, I take it to sit back amidst the chaos and simply be thankful.  Thankful for a little time to work on my creative projects, but more thankful still for the living epistle that is being written on the pages of my son’s life.  

"You have my very heart."

"'I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit in you; I will remove from you your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh.'" -Ezekiel 36:26

The phrase I have been pondering a lot lately is "You have my very heart."  When God speaks to me, He calls me by a variety of names-- but one He has called me often lately is "beloved heart."  Years ago He would sometimes call me "heart", and when I began to ponder why this was that phrase came into my mind: "You have my very heart."  In the book of Ezekial there is a scene where God says the author's heart of stone will be replaced with a heart of flesh.  I realized, when we accept Christ and become new creations, God puts His spirit inside of us, and this enables us to feel what He feels.  We are also called Christ's ambassadors.  We are called to show God's love to those around us.  What often motivates love is compassion-- seeing those who are hurting and broken and being moved by compassion to love them.
Recently one of my friends was having a hard time emotionally, and even though I didn't know the context of what was going on with her I felt an incredibly deep sadness and sorrow.  As I was pondering over this and wondering why, I felt like God was telling me "That is how I feel, too."  Opening my eyes to understand how He sees and feels towards those around me, even when I don't always know or understand the little details.  Thus moving me to intercessory prayer, to love and to action.  Longing to love.  Longing to fight.  Praising my heavenly Father even more because I understand more and more the magnitude of the work He has done, and the magnitude of the work He wants to accomplish through us as His ambassadors-- as those with His very heart.