Inner Delight

Confronting and overcoming obstacles while sitting around a dining room table this past Saturday wasn’t about the food. In fact, that peppermint popcorn? Yum! The only obstacle between those kernels of buttery sweetness and my mouth was having only two hands to deliver them. What I’m talking about transpired with a small group of women who’re responding to God calling them to write…to write their stories, explore ideas together and share them with others, learning how to do that effectively. There are casserole-sized doubts and pressure cookers of misgivings and feelings of lack in each of us. As we opened our hearts we found serving platters of encouragement, affirmation, camaraderie, and strength, with a smorgasbord of humor on the side. And I came away with a feeling that I’ve struggled to identify. 

It is a sense of something special and wonderful happening, like when you’ve got the soup kettle on the stove,

and the ingredients are starting to simmer, smelling absolutely heavenly and promising. It finally came to me as I journaled later. I'm calling it "inner delight" and it lines up with a prophetic word given to me quite awhile back. 

It was about 30 years ago; I was attending a women's Bible study in a small church with a friend. During the small group discussion and prayer time, one of the women said that she had a "vision" pertaining to me. She “saw” me leading/teaching/mentoring women in some way. At the time I kind of scoffed at the idea, being a busy wife and mom raising four kids and I couldn't imagine women wanting to follow me anywhere or listen to anything I had to say. And this whole idea of “prophetic vision”? Lets just say it was a dish I was dubious about sampling.

Looking back I can see how God has led me through doors that I wasn't expecting, stage right and stage left and behind the scenes, has brought me through a variety of experiences, including leadership training and positions, and now He shines a light on this particular spot, the spot He intended all along. The inner delight that comes of being where He has called and prepared me to be as He overlooked

my initial scoffing, and the knowledge that He gave me the desire of my heart—His recipe for inner delight. Could be the woman in that Bible study group had a preview glimpse of it for me.

And these women I am privileged now to sit with at a table are ladling out all kinds of tasty words to savor.

A CARDBOARD TESTIMONY

STUCK IN A STAGNANT SWAMP. 

UP AGAINST A BRICK WALL. 

WANDERING IN A MAZE. 

SQUARE PEG IN A ROUND HOLE.

MISSING THE ACTION.

AN ACCIDENT WITHOUT PURPOSE.

Umm, yeah, that’s been my reality the past few months. And I’ve felt as much like a cliche as those phrases. BUT God hasn’t been stuck, wandering or missing. I couldn’t see behind the curtain where He’s been busy putting answers together for the requests I was making: #1) to be in relationship with other Christian women local to my area who desire to write, and #2) to find a way to serve in His kingdom.

It meant stepping a bit out of my comfort zone to attend an event where I basically didn’t know anyone. It was called “Safe Harbor”. And through that window, a light glowed, showing a pathway to explore. That pathway led to something called “Rooted”, a 10-week class at Calvary Community Church in Sumner, Washington. In a small group setting, we shared our life stories with each other, saw how God is present, cheering for us and empowering us, knitting us together as a community in order to be of service to each other as well as the larger community around us. 

At our Rooted Celebration Evening last week, along with several dozen other people, I 

participated in The Cardboard Testimony. My cardboard sign proclaimed on one side 

where I’d been before Rooted, and on the other side where I am today.

My small group leader asked us to choose a new name for ourselves. The name that jumped out at me was MASTERPIECE, designed on purpose with purpose, not an accident at all. 

Going forward I’m stepping into a new role, as facilitator of the women in my small group from Rooted. There’s the answer to my second request. My first request? Well, at that event I went to outside of my comfort zone I met a woman with a powerful story who desires to write a book and who needs encouragement in getting that done. She introduced me to two other women who want to write and are looking for encouragement. They asked me to mentor them! I think we’ll all be mentoring each other as we each have something to offer. 

RAFTING OUT OF THE MUCK.

A LADDER OVER THE TOP.

GPS THROUGH THE MAZE.

FOUND THE CHISEL.

ON STAGE.

MASTERPIECE.

Never Too Late, Never Too Old

A devotional I shared with my writing group today.

“Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a huge crowd of witnesses to the life of faith, let us strip off every weight that slows us down, especially the sin that so easily trips us up. And let us run with endurance the race God has set before us.” (Hebrews 12:1 NLT)

As writers, some of us feel we have nothing significant enough to express. Others of us think it might be too late to develop our skills, that we’re too old. Maybe our attitude is that there are already so many writers, who do we think we are jumping onto the page. 

From the time I was about twelve years old, in addition to writing, I’ve had the desire to interpret and share my world through a camera’s lens. Never had anything fancy in the way of photographic equipment—instamatics back in the day when we used rolls of film, followed by cartridges. Cameras were always point-and-shoot types with film, and the same now with digital. Except for the last couple of years I’ve mostly used my iPhone6. Someday I’d like to have the opportunity to get acquainted with cameras that have adjustable lenses and learn how to use them. But I’ve been told, regardless of the equipment, that it’s your own eye that is responsible for a great photograph. 

In photography, as well as in life, sometimes it takes looking at things from a different perspective. With camera in hand, it might require getting down on your knees, or squatting rather unbecomingly. I’ve even resorted to holding my iPhone low to the ground and without even looking at what’s on the screen, snapping away and hoping for the best. Lots of shots get deposited in the trash; thankfully no film gets ruined anymore. But there are times when a photo that I’ve captured in that way ends up capturing me when I see it later uploaded onto my computer screen. One such recent photo makes me think of our lovely group of women who aspire to write. 

I don’t know what the flowers are called but they grow in wild crowds on the spit at Semiahmoo at this time of year. As my husband and I meandered along the path, the sun, a hazy blaze on the western horizon, set up its last hoorah for the day with those flowers. Quarter-sized centers of bristly brown, surrounded by candy-corn petals, they looked good enough to eat. Grabbing the sun’s setting rays, they lit themselves up, dancing in the breeze. They didn’t compare themselves with each other, they didn’t consider it too late in the day to splash their beauty across their world, and though some were losing their petals, they waved just as energetically as their fully-petaled companions. 

It’s not too late in the day for us. I know Hebrews 12:1 refers to pursuing our faith-walk but could we apply the principle? Isn’t our writing part of our faith-walk? Remember when the sun is setting here, it’s rising somewhere else. 

DON’T LOOK AT ME!

One of the first descriptions about me that I remember hearing as a child was, “She’s shy. Don’t even look at her or she’ll cry.”

Wait! Wait! No worries, friends! While I still do cry easily, there’s no need to turn away. I’ve come a long way since then. But I’ll be honest with you. My shyness hasn’t disappeared, and temperamentally I’m an introvert so it still takes a lot of effort for me to engage in conversation or interact with people I don’t know. In previous blog posts, Role to Minister and MonstrousLimitations vs Super Power, I dealt with this. Good for me to review!

Good to remember also that once I get started with a particular interaction and can focus on the other person, and as long as I give myself time to re-energize afterward, I generally enjoy it, which is what I’ve experienced over the past few days.

In my last post I shared about “Be the One”, a mentoring program, and the writing opportunity I’ve been offered. What that entails is getting the stories of the mentors and mentees, how the program has affected them, and then putting the stories into readable form. The plan is to undertake that task the first couple weeks of May. In addition I was asked if I would take on interviewing local businesses that sponsor the program and get their feedback. I said, “Yes.”

Whoa! That’s a whole lot of interacting with people I don’t know, folks! So what motivates me to overcome my shyness and get out there and do it?

Well, the idea that kids are falling through the cracks when there’s a God-designed someone for each one of those kids to throw them a little life line, and here’s a program that can match these people up if only the word can get out there sort of starts the fire in me. And as I said in my previous post, my heart responded to that scenario in a big way. This is the purpose God designed me to fulfill—helping to get that word out there.

So far the sponsoring businesses I’ve contacted have been incredibly receptive and willing to share their hearts for the program and this community. I admire them!

Now, excuse me while I re-energize before it’s time to gather up

my interviewing paraphernalia for the next interviewee.

HEE-HAW!

My writers support group explored inspiration last month, and we took a look at why we write. The meeting was…inspiring! So why haven’t I written much since then?

Well, I think sometimes I need something more specific to motivate me. I’ve been praying for God’s direction in my life for my writing. And I believe He is sending some answers.

A few days ago, my sister and I met with Nancy McHarness who founded Partners for Schools in our local school district. She told us about the “Be the One” mentoring program she launched last year in the high school and middle school.

When she presented the opportunity to assist in a writing capacity, I felt my heart respond in a way that I haven’t experienced in a long time.

I don’t know the details of how God will move in this response yet but I am continuing to search His heart. As we all know, searching God’s heart requires reading His words, His Word.

My daily reading is taking me through Deuteronomy. Plod, plod, plod through Duty-ronomy, right? Still, I’m seeing God’s heart is there.

“If you see your neighbor’s ox or sheep or goat wandering away, don’t ignore your responsibility.

Take it back to its owner. If its owner does not live nearby or you don’t know who the owner is, take it to your place and keep it until the owner comes looking for it. Then you must return it. Do the same if you find your neighbor’s donkey, clothing, or anything else your neighbor loses. Don’t ignore your responsibility. If you see that your neighbor’s donkey or ox has collapsed on the road, do not look the other way. Go and help your neighbor get it back on its feet!” (Deuteronomy 22:1-4 NLT)

Okay, I’m a farmer’s daughter but it wasn’t a donkey on the side of the road that hee-hawed to get my attention. What grabbed me is a concept.

“Don’t ignore your responsibility.”

My responsibility in and with my writing is to help return something lost, to give something back to my community. The ramifications of that can be minimal, or they can be monumental. Either way, my writing matters. Our writing matters. For me, seeing HOW it might matter is a huge boost of encouragement to engage my mind and my fingers in releasing what God has put in my heart.

I am eagerly waiting for the next steps. I’ll keep you posted. Meanwhile, here are some of the reasons I came up with for why I write, from the silly to the serious:

• The voices! The voices! The voices!
• Something has to go between the beginning of the sentence and the period.
• Someone has to keep the alphabet alive.
• In order to keep my keyboard happy.
• Because the words won’t put themselves on the page.
• I might be able to express a thought just a little differently than everyone else.
• It’s my nature to encourage with words.
• There are stories only I can tell.
• Worlds are like chisels used to expose reality.

DO YOU READ ME?

New pages are turning! I’m anticipating adventure and exploration with a group of like-minded women writers this year. The following, a piece of creative fiction (originally submitted for the faithwriters.com writing challenge in May 2010), seems appropriate for encouraging the members of that group now, and a good reminder for me. You don't have to be a writer for it to resonate with you as well. 

(Original Title: Text of Life)

Lord, I’m feeling really lonely. I want deeper friendships. I see the women at my church who have friends they go out to lunch with, have over to their homes, take trips with…they’re friendly towards me but there’s a sense of distance, like they don’t want to invite me in. But not just at church, in my neighborhood and at work as well. And I want to minister to them too. How can I do that if we don’t connect?

Have you shared your book with them?

My book? What do you mean my book? I’m not a writer!

Your life is being written moment by moment, child. What you’ve experienced from the day you were born until now is your book.

Hmm, I’ve never thought of it that way. But no, I haven’t really wanted to do that, share my book with anyone.

Why not?

It’s… well, for one thing, it’s too depressing.

How so?

Who wants to hear about my parents’ alcoholism, the abuse, my dabbling in the occult and my promiscuity? Before I met you, Lord, my life was a real mess, a downhill slide…hardly inspiring or uplifting. I’d rather talk about You, Lord.

My darling child, I do want you to talk about Me, and you must. But I have a question for you. Your life story is depressing for whom?

Why, for anyone I’d try to talk to, of course.

Delightful child, are you sure the real reason isn’t because you’re the one it’s too depressing for?

Whoa! You sure know how to ask the right questions, Lord!

I know the right answers too, daughter.

I’m listening, Lord!

The people in your sphere of influence may not read my Word, but they do read you. They will relate to you when you are honest about your past, when you don’t deny or discount it, or dismiss it as having no bearing on the present, or assume it will be depressing to them.

When they know what you’ve been through, they’ll be able to see the clearer how I’ve made all the difference. Even the women at church have secrets they hide because they think no one will understand. What would it mean to them to know someone like you who has been there?

If I’m going to be honest, Lord, I have to admit that I don’t want to know their stories. Whenever I hear them talking about their pasts I’m impatient for them to just move on…to get over it. Is that a lack of compassion on my part?

I’m aware of that in you, my daughter. And the answer is, yes. But it begins much closer to home.

Are you saying I haven’t been compassionate towards myself?

Now you’ve caught onto that twist in your plot! And here’s an even better twist: My compassion will flow through you to others, as you are willing to receive it for yourself.

Wow, Lord! I think I know why I’ve been afraid to open up like that. What if they turn their backs on me, see me as the scum I know I’ve been and decide I’m not worthy of their friendship?

Oh, I know, some may turn away—I don’t force anyone to do anything they don’t want to. But I have established a mandate for other believers to be supportive when you open the book of your heart. I assure you, there will be some who welcome you, who want to read your story. And I will lead you to them.

Precious child, take a look in My Book. This is something King David discovered. See here? “God rewrote the text of my life when I opened the book of my heart to His eyes.” You might have noticed that My Book is full of stories that could cause stomachs to churn and hair to curl or stand straight up on end. But David and many others recognized how important it was to record not only the good, but also the bad and the ugly. You’ve been able to relate to that, haven’t you?

Oh, yes, Lord! I have! I love your Word so much!

So, child of mine, how can I rewrite the text of your life, if you’re not willing to open the rough draft?

This will not be easy but I’m willing to submit my manuscript to you, Lord, by sharing it with those who desperately need to see it.

They will be blessed, as will you, my daughter!

(Scripture from 2 Samuel 22:21-25, in The Message Bible)

Be Fruitful and Multiply

It’s been several months since I last played over here in the light of Aniluminary. Have you missed me? I’ve missed being here. So where have I been?

Well, I’ve been on the move. The hubby and I made a major change in our lives and took ourselves 1,300 miles from where we’ve been for almost thirty years. A 1,300 mile leap of faith. We’ve returned to the Pacific Northwest where I was born and spent my growing up years, until I ventured out into ‘new territory’ by way of southern California. In that ‘new territory’, I met and married my husband. As a young couple with our first child, we responded to our shared attraction for the Pacific Northwest and moved back here. We stayed long enough to produce a double feature in the family, our twins. Then away we went again. And like a yo-yo a couple years later, wound up once more in this familiar neighborhood. After expanding the family with our youngest, the yo-yo re-looped to SoCal, for a much longer stay this time.

But let’s fast forward to the present and guess what? The yo-yo finally retracted and here we are—we feel like we are home. I am done with yo-yoing! And no-o-o-o-o-o, we will not be having another child this time!

Although…here’s a thought:

Every time I’ve written an entry for my blog, I feel like I’ve brought something to life, so maybe these writings are my babies. If so, if it please the Lord, may I be fruitful and multiply. And may these kids of mine enrich your lives.

Just for fun:

While visiting with my mom at the assisted living facility not long ago, Sock Monkey tells a story, not the one about how he got a knot in his tail—that’s too scary. (Sock Monkey came into existence at my mother’s sewing machine.)