Category: Faith

I wouldn’t trade it for the world. I’ve heard those words a million times, but not until last week did I let them roll around inside my head.

During my twenty minute commute to work, while listening to music and letting my mind sway along with the corn bordering the black-topped road, I pondered that saying for the first time. And I got to thinking. Are there things I’d trade if I could?

Like, if I could trade the past six months of waiting, would I? Or, if I could trade this passion for something less emotionally taxing, would I? Or, if I could trade the rejections I’ve received on my writing journey, would I?

I thought about all these things. How my book was supposed to go to pub board in April and how much less stressful it would’ve been if my agent had called six months ago with great news. I thought about all the rejections I’ve received since I started and how much less painful it would’ve been not to get any of those. I thought about the passion God’s given me for telling stories, and how much easier life would be if He’d given me a different calling – like basket weaving. I bet basket weavers don’t deal with the same level of stress and heart ache that writers do.

I imagined a scenario where God came down from heaven, planted Himself in my passenger seat, and offered me another life. An easier life. A life with no waiting and no rejections. A life without this passion that burns so hot that sometimes – okay, often time – it hurts. It scalds. It makes me jerk back with a blistered heart. If God offered me this easier life, would I take it?

I turned off my radio and looked at my son in the rear view mirror, bouncing his feet, waving his pudgy hand at an abandoned tractor. Seeing him back there made me think about parenting. One of the most rewarding things I’ve ever done. But also one of the hardest. And I got to thinking. Sometimes it’s the hard things that make life worth living. Those are the things that keep us on our toes. Or maybe on our knees.

I thought about how an easier life doesn’t necessarily make for a better one.

Because of writing, I’ve spent the last two years kneeling in prayer. Because of waiting, I’ve learned to trust God with the unknown. Because of the rejections, I’ve gotten better at putting my hope in the God of the universe, instead of the changing winds of the publishing industry. Because of this passion, I know what it’s like to feel alive, to feel energized with a sense of purpose, to feel in awe of God’s grace. That He would give someone like me this amazing, challenging gift.

Nothing about writing is easy. Not one single part. But you know what? I wouldn’t trade it for the world.

Question to Ponder: What about you? Are there things you’d trade? What have the hard things in life taught you?removetweetmeme

I finished the rough draft for my 5th novel, A Broken Kind of Beautiful. Although they say not to get too attached to a title, since they’re prone to change, I can’t help myself with this one. I’m very attached. It fits perfectly with the story.

I pounded out eight thousand words on Saturday (thanks to my hubby who hung out with the B-man!) and ended up typing The End two weeks sooner than planned. I sat there awhile, blinking at my computer screen, sort of in awe. Not with myself. I’m hardly ever in awe with myself. But with this thing. This beautiful, insane, exhilarating, fear-inducing, tear-out-my-hair-but-I-wouldn’t-trade-it-for-the-world thing called writing. The art of pouring words onto a page and letting those words tell a story.

It’s such a gift. For the reader who loses herself in the pages, yes. But mostly, for the writer.

Every morning I wake up and spend time with God. I read His word. I write in my prayer journal. I listen. I always pray about my writing. That my stories would captivate and encourage. Speak truth. Inspire faith. But even more than that, I pray God would draw me closer to Him through my writing.

A couple weeks ago, while my mom and I drove to the mall, we started talking about my new story. I said something that surprised her. I told her how hard it was for me. To sit at my computer desk and pound out the words. I told her how the whole daunting task fills me with angst. I have no idea what I’m going to write. My words are lousy and dull and lifeless. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve sat, elbows straddling my laptop, fingers digging into my hair, blinking at my computer screen because I. Can’t. Make. The. Story. Work.

This is my 5th novel. So far, God has showed up every time. Maybe not as quick as I want Him to or when I want Him to. But He shows up. He draws me near and uses my weakness to magnify His strength. And when He does, I can’t help but feel awe. In awe that He gave me something I enjoy so much it burns all the way down into my toes. I finished another rough draft. Now it’s time to revise. Oh dear.

If you’re interested, here’s the back cover blurb for A Broken Kind of Beautiful.

Question to Ponder: How do you feel when you finish a rough draft? Or if you’re not a writer, how do you feel when you finish a big task?removetweetmeme

Whether you’re a writer or a pastor or an agent or an artist or a student or a mom or a (insert job here), most of us have a vision in our head – some marker we can hold up or point to and say, “See, I’m successful. This proves it.”

They worked all night with no results. But even so, they did the work. Not just a few times, but all night long, despite reeling in empty net after empty net. They couldn’t control the catch, but they could keep casting their net. So they did. They showed up and did the work. Because that’s all they could do. The catch didn’t come until Jesus showed up.

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