Did you know I was thinking about going to Mexico? That, for a little while, I had planned to be in Mexico right now?
Not that I was going to live there indefinitely.
But, so many things just ... didn't allow for it. Let me share a taste of this part of my recent journey.
This past spring semester I took the Perspectives course. I learned a lot; it changed my outlook, my perspective (I know it's confusing before you actually attend, but it is aptly named), and I wanted to do things I'd never wanted to do before. Missions, my friend. I wanted to see God's Good News spread to the nations. I wanted to see it firsthand, because I wanted Him to use me and send me somewhere to spread it.
Somewhere like Mexico.
After all, I was learning Spanish. And, in the summer, I continued learning Spanish. And in the fall semester, I was going to finish my language requirement for my degree (though I thought I might continue learning the language after that anyway).
Well, a friend of mine was moving back to her home state, and she remembered the annual trip between the fall and spring semesters to, ahem, Mexico, that she headed up in her home state for years. So we both thought, huh, maybe I should go, too?
I looked into what I would need, passport, travel costs, and maybe (I don't recall what they were, but they were probably in the back of my planning mind) other miscellaneous things that weren't all that important because the truth was, I didn't have enough money. And I didn't see how I would earn the rest of the money that I would need in time.
I thought about it, and I prayed about it. And then, in the fall semester, I was having a hard time in one of my classes that was beyond my abilities.
At this point, I'm pretty sure I was already teetering on the 'I'm not going to Mexico' edge. I didn't want to give up on the dream, but I just didn't see how it was possible. Still, I'm a die hard (sort of), and I hang onto dreams sometimes far longer than I ever should.
But, I was facing the immediate concern of what to do for this class that was giving me so much trouble. So when I heard about a seminar for learning to read faster and more effectively, I figured I should stick around for it and go. In this brief seminar, I actually noticed an improvement in my reading and retaining. So, since there was a deep pile of reading for my class, I thought this is what I needed, and I signed up for the four week class, spending my money on that.
At this point, with no passport, not enough time to get it, not enough money to get it, and not enough money for the trip, and with no feasible way to get the rest (no, I wasn't going to rob a bank), Mexico was out.
And as much as I still didn't want to give it up, I couldn't see a way around it, and I thought I needed this class to help me keep from failing the course I was in. (Yes, I said failing.)
Fast forward a month or so, Mexico was long gone from my agenda, I finished the reading course, and I was concentrating on my courses at OU. Wow that was full. I tried, and I used what I had learned from the reading course (I probably could have been more effective with it, had I not been working on so many other things), but either it didn't help me enough, or I didn't use it to it's best advantage. Likely some of both.
I was still failing.
And I was frustrated.
Yes, the reading course helped me some, and no, I didn't want to say it was a waste of time, effort, or money. But really. I wondered why on earth I had taken the course, when it wasn't doing what I'd hoped and thought I'd needed it to do for me.
So, money gone, time for getting a passport long gone, I still wished there had been some way to join the missionary effort in Mexico. Even still yet.
And I wasn't doing all that much better in my really hard class.
As it turned out, I talked with my professor, who was very understanding, and, in effect, I became something of an audit student. I had already paid for the class, and I wasn't going to get my money back, but my professor let me switch to taking the class as incomplete. I still was allowed to show up and learn; I still had the books. But I no longer had a grade and a GPA riding on my level of success in this class.
So, class load remarkably lightened, money spent on a reading class, Mexico not realistically in the picture anymore (except for unrealistically still wishing in the back of my head), I was confused as to why I had gone through that when it turned out as it had, and still a bit frustrated that I didn't have even enough money for a passport.
Now, some of the pieces start to fall into place a little more clearly for my mind if we fast forward again, yet still in the same fall semester. (It was one full semester.)
My mother has had problems with her health, but she always did the cooking and laundry and cleaning and shopping and the like. But, in this semester, her health continued it's slow deterioration, and that even sped up a bit.
She could no longer do the cooking or the laundry or the cleaning. And there was no one else to step up and take care of those things. Except for me.
So that's exactly what I started doing. And I finally realized how much Mama did to keep the house together (and I still couldn't keep up with it all, so, Wow, Mom!). I started pitching in. I actually turned the oven on. Laundry I was fairly used to, but now I had to make sure more of it got done. So I was fairly busy. Any time that my hard class would have taken up, and no longer had to, was filled with helping with the housework and helping Mom. And I had my other classes to keep me busy, like finishing my required Spanish course (which was, itself, a headache of a class at times), and writing 50,000 words of first draft for my first novel.
So, once again, money gone, time gone, Mexico not even in my mind anymore, learning Spanish, writing a novel (in English), cooking, and laundry, and life's little fillers, I was busy. Quite possibly the busiest I have ever been.
I knew things weren't getting better when I had to go shopping for groceries by myself. It might seem childish, but this semester was the first time that had ever happened. And that's when I realized that I didn't know where everything was kept in the store very well. An adventurous outing.
So, the pieces started to make sense. I believe that a large part of why I never had what I needed in order to go to Mexico, where I would have been on this day, is because God knew I would be needed here.
Once again, He knew far better than I did. And even though I thought I wanted to go for Him, He wanted me to stay for Him.
And willing and wanting to go, I stayed.
Monday, December 28
Wednesday, December 9
Milestone
Well, I reached my assigned goal for the semester for my novel writing class.
Yes, a class on writing a novel. You read that correctly.
So I learned about writing, and I had to write...50,000 words. Yep. Fifty-thousand. Words. (No, I did not write them all choppy like this.)
So, I thought that deserved a post.
It was a journey. If anyone wonders what there is to learn about writing novels or how hard it can be to write a novel or how long 50,000 words is (generally short for novel length, actually), send them my way. I'll educate them.
That said, I must point out this: I'm not done.
I have written over 50,000 words, and my first draft isn't complete. I have a large gap somewhere in the middle of my story where I jump toward the ending, and I haven't even finished the ending.
Now, I jumped to the ending because my novel instructor (remember what I said before about novel people?) wanted to make sure I knew how to write the ending (again, if people think there's nothing to it...). And, for class, I think this is a good idea. The ending is neither like the beginning nor the middle, though a reader should be fairly blissfully ignorant of this. Unless the reader is also a writer, trying to improve on the craft. That aside, I started too far back from the end. So I still have to write it.
But this doesn't bother me. After all, isn't writing what I signed up to do?
It is.
And I find I like it.
So, while I won't have weekly deadlines of 4,000 word "milestone" lumps, and no one else will be pushing me to write for a grade, I have plans and goals. And I have proven to myself that I can write 50,000 words. What's 20,000 or 30,000 more? And really, I can't leave my characters hanging where they are. Not in either of the two spots where I have left off.
I know my characters aren't alive and breathing. I've been over that before. But after writing, and following, their adventure, their dreams, their wants, their needs, I am rather attached. Which I count as a good thing. If I wasn't attached, how could I expect my future readers to be drawn into the story? Admit it, your favorite stories, you empathize with the characters; when you open the covers of the book and turn the pages, you are there with them.
That's how I am when I read. That's normal. That's the goal. That's when the writer has done his job. And that's what I want to do. So far, it's working, at least on myself.
And one of the reasons it's worked on myself is because I have either experienced what my characters have gone through, or I have experienced the emotions. Throughout my life, but more specifically, this semester.
Friends, it is not always a happy book. Once, my teacher, who may be a novel person, told the entire class that I was doing a good job of not giving my characters a break. His reaction was one of frustration and depression, even though he delivered it with comedy.
Maybe I am doing my job.
Have I been depressed? Sure. Maybe to the extreme of my characters, maybe not. But the thing is, all writing reveals something about the writer. It can't be avoided. And the saying, "Write what you know," doesn't have to mean factual information. Far from it. Facts can be researched. It is the emotions that you know. It is the emotions that I know. This story just so happens to be full of certain sad emotions. My main characters are in their teens, of course that's what it's full of.
The journey for me has been in living. Living through the past semester. Celebrating the ups, working through the obstacles, and dealing with the downs. The journey has been in my relationships and the increase and variations of my tasks.
And I have shared my journey with Makani and Tip. In some ways, they have helped me through the journey, because I could give them portions of it, helping me to work through things, particularly the things I didn't understand.
It wasn't a mistake that I had that outlet. God knew what I would need before I knew there would be any changes in my life.
I am grateful that I had this story to write. I am grateful that I still have it to finish. And I will carry it with me, unseen, even after I no longer work on improving it.
This is my first milestone of many.
Yes, a class on writing a novel. You read that correctly.
So I learned about writing, and I had to write...50,000 words. Yep. Fifty-thousand. Words. (No, I did not write them all choppy like this.)
So, I thought that deserved a post.
It was a journey. If anyone wonders what there is to learn about writing novels or how hard it can be to write a novel or how long 50,000 words is (generally short for novel length, actually), send them my way. I'll educate them.
That said, I must point out this: I'm not done.
I have written over 50,000 words, and my first draft isn't complete. I have a large gap somewhere in the middle of my story where I jump toward the ending, and I haven't even finished the ending.
Now, I jumped to the ending because my novel instructor (remember what I said before about novel people?) wanted to make sure I knew how to write the ending (again, if people think there's nothing to it...). And, for class, I think this is a good idea. The ending is neither like the beginning nor the middle, though a reader should be fairly blissfully ignorant of this. Unless the reader is also a writer, trying to improve on the craft. That aside, I started too far back from the end. So I still have to write it.
But this doesn't bother me. After all, isn't writing what I signed up to do?
It is.
And I find I like it.
So, while I won't have weekly deadlines of 4,000 word "milestone" lumps, and no one else will be pushing me to write for a grade, I have plans and goals. And I have proven to myself that I can write 50,000 words. What's 20,000 or 30,000 more? And really, I can't leave my characters hanging where they are. Not in either of the two spots where I have left off.
I know my characters aren't alive and breathing. I've been over that before. But after writing, and following, their adventure, their dreams, their wants, their needs, I am rather attached. Which I count as a good thing. If I wasn't attached, how could I expect my future readers to be drawn into the story? Admit it, your favorite stories, you empathize with the characters; when you open the covers of the book and turn the pages, you are there with them.
That's how I am when I read. That's normal. That's the goal. That's when the writer has done his job. And that's what I want to do. So far, it's working, at least on myself.
And one of the reasons it's worked on myself is because I have either experienced what my characters have gone through, or I have experienced the emotions. Throughout my life, but more specifically, this semester.
Friends, it is not always a happy book. Once, my teacher, who may be a novel person, told the entire class that I was doing a good job of not giving my characters a break. His reaction was one of frustration and depression, even though he delivered it with comedy.
Maybe I am doing my job.
Have I been depressed? Sure. Maybe to the extreme of my characters, maybe not. But the thing is, all writing reveals something about the writer. It can't be avoided. And the saying, "Write what you know," doesn't have to mean factual information. Far from it. Facts can be researched. It is the emotions that you know. It is the emotions that I know. This story just so happens to be full of certain sad emotions. My main characters are in their teens, of course that's what it's full of.
The journey for me has been in living. Living through the past semester. Celebrating the ups, working through the obstacles, and dealing with the downs. The journey has been in my relationships and the increase and variations of my tasks.
And I have shared my journey with Makani and Tip. In some ways, they have helped me through the journey, because I could give them portions of it, helping me to work through things, particularly the things I didn't understand.
It wasn't a mistake that I had that outlet. God knew what I would need before I knew there would be any changes in my life.
I am grateful that I had this story to write. I am grateful that I still have it to finish. And I will carry it with me, unseen, even after I no longer work on improving it.
This is my first milestone of many.
Friday, October 23
Fifteen Media
Something I've been wanting to put together for awhile. Ever since I read it here first.
Here are fifteen or so media which have profoundly changed me or had some major impact on who I am today.
1. Perspectives on the World Christian Movement (college level course): Opened my eyes to what missions is meant to be and can be. This course challenged me to my core and changed the way I see so many different parts of life.
2. Captivating (book): After years of self-bashing (mentally and emotionally; I didn't take a baseball bat to my head) this book helped me to stop murdering myself and to realize that in God's eyes, He has made me beautiful and that I do have true worth.
3. Pride and Prejudice (2005 movie) (book): I watched the movie and understood the language, which I had before seen as impossible to interpret, and therefore, boring. The story was funny and very sweet. Shortly after, I read the book and likewise loved it. Thus the world of Jane Austen was opened to me for the rest of my life.
4. Disney movies: It may be a bit of a cheat to list a lump of movies by the same company, but...it’s my list. I have been rediscovering these movies lately, and I have found that the themes of longing for good things, trust, betrayal, misunderstandings, good and evil, and committed love are just as profound and meaningful for women as they are for little girls dreaming of their princes. Perhaps even more so now than before. Here are a few that come to mind as being particularly important to me: Beauty and the Beast, Sleeping Beauty, Anastasia (okay, this one is Fox, not Disney)
5. Disney’s Beauty and the Beast (play): another step along the path of allowing myself to be the girl I have been all along, relishing in the story and characters as they came alive right before me.
6. YouTube (collection of videos online): searching through clips of various movies set to good songs is also another step along the path to allowing myself to immensely enjoy the things which set my heart aflutter through good songs and good stories. It turns out I'm far more girlie than I had let myself be for years.
7. Creative Writing (college level course): this class along with some other factors helped me to see not only that I wanted to write and edit stories, but that I could. It helped give me direction for choosing a college major that I like (before I even knew it existed) and what I might enjoy for a paying job (dare I use the word, career).
8. Hip Hop dance class, Irish dance class, Ballroom dance class (classes of various levels and of various durations), and Musicals (such as Disney movies, Fiddler on the Roof, and, of course Seven Brides for Seven Brothers): I am a dancer. Even though I can be as clumsy as all get out, when music plays, I feel a joy well up inside me that must come out in some fashion, often through dance. Learning different ways to dance has definitely affected my daily life. I have been exposed to the sounds, rhythms, and moods of different kinds of music, and what can be done with them. I dance wherever I am.
9. What To Do When Your Mom or Dad Says ... Clean Your Room! (book): when I received this, I was granted insight into what others thought of my maturity. A truly haunting two weeks.
10. Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone (book): before I read the book, I had thought the story was an awful tale about a wicked boy who used magic. When discussing it with my brother, I was forced to rethink my prejudice that was based on little more than other peoples’ bad assumptions. Since then I have tried to be less judgmental before I see what things (in particular, stories) are for myself.
11. Any time I go through an arts festival or museum with my best friends (events and art): we always meander through, taking in all the arts displays and examining some things for sale that suit our fancy. We often have differing tastes in what really sparks our imaginations or plays with our emotions, but we usually each find at least one thing (usually a painting or a print of a painting) that is special to us specifically. Two that struck my fancy were “Two Blackbirds” in the OKC Museum of Art and “West of the City” by Carolyn Mock at the 2007(?) OKC Arts Festival hosted by OCCC. These two particular paintings/prints whisper of stories to me that I hope to someday write.
12. “Desert Song” (song): Music is hard for me to choose. I love so much music, that it’s sometimes hard to tell what has had major impact on my life and what is just really good. “Desert Song” is an encouraging battle song in my mind. When I feel wrung out and dry, I call to God. With His mighty hand protecting me, no weapon on earth shall remain, because He is The Victory and He is here.
13. “You Said (Ask and You Will Receive)” (song): Another song that has great impact on me, largely due to the Perspectives course. This song is a focus on the call to reach all God’s people (the nations) with His Word, and a reminder of His promise that is connected to the mission mandate.
14. Petals (book - not yet available in stores): Showed me that I truly can edit, and love it along the way.
15. Julie & Julia (2009 movie): Yes, this is a movie about cooking and two women who cooked. No, I do not cook (except for the taquitos recently). But now I actually want to. I am not quite so scared of the prospect of cooking (or burning things), and I even think of it as a challenge that could be fun...and tasty. (And, yes, the taquitos were very tasty.)
Here are fifteen or so media which have profoundly changed me or had some major impact on who I am today.
1. Perspectives on the World Christian Movement (college level course): Opened my eyes to what missions is meant to be and can be. This course challenged me to my core and changed the way I see so many different parts of life.
2. Captivating (book): After years of self-bashing (mentally and emotionally; I didn't take a baseball bat to my head) this book helped me to stop murdering myself and to realize that in God's eyes, He has made me beautiful and that I do have true worth.
3. Pride and Prejudice (2005 movie) (book): I watched the movie and understood the language, which I had before seen as impossible to interpret, and therefore, boring. The story was funny and very sweet. Shortly after, I read the book and likewise loved it. Thus the world of Jane Austen was opened to me for the rest of my life.
4. Disney movies: It may be a bit of a cheat to list a lump of movies by the same company, but...it’s my list. I have been rediscovering these movies lately, and I have found that the themes of longing for good things, trust, betrayal, misunderstandings, good and evil, and committed love are just as profound and meaningful for women as they are for little girls dreaming of their princes. Perhaps even more so now than before. Here are a few that come to mind as being particularly important to me: Beauty and the Beast, Sleeping Beauty, Anastasia (okay, this one is Fox, not Disney)
5. Disney’s Beauty and the Beast (play): another step along the path of allowing myself to be the girl I have been all along, relishing in the story and characters as they came alive right before me.
6. YouTube (collection of videos online): searching through clips of various movies set to good songs is also another step along the path to allowing myself to immensely enjoy the things which set my heart aflutter through good songs and good stories. It turns out I'm far more girlie than I had let myself be for years.
7. Creative Writing (college level course): this class along with some other factors helped me to see not only that I wanted to write and edit stories, but that I could. It helped give me direction for choosing a college major that I like (before I even knew it existed) and what I might enjoy for a paying job (dare I use the word, career).
8. Hip Hop dance class, Irish dance class, Ballroom dance class (classes of various levels and of various durations), and Musicals (such as Disney movies, Fiddler on the Roof, and, of course Seven Brides for Seven Brothers): I am a dancer. Even though I can be as clumsy as all get out, when music plays, I feel a joy well up inside me that must come out in some fashion, often through dance. Learning different ways to dance has definitely affected my daily life. I have been exposed to the sounds, rhythms, and moods of different kinds of music, and what can be done with them. I dance wherever I am.
9. What To Do When Your Mom or Dad Says ... Clean Your Room! (book): when I received this, I was granted insight into what others thought of my maturity. A truly haunting two weeks.
10. Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone (book): before I read the book, I had thought the story was an awful tale about a wicked boy who used magic. When discussing it with my brother, I was forced to rethink my prejudice that was based on little more than other peoples’ bad assumptions. Since then I have tried to be less judgmental before I see what things (in particular, stories) are for myself.
11. Any time I go through an arts festival or museum with my best friends (events and art): we always meander through, taking in all the arts displays and examining some things for sale that suit our fancy. We often have differing tastes in what really sparks our imaginations or plays with our emotions, but we usually each find at least one thing (usually a painting or a print of a painting) that is special to us specifically. Two that struck my fancy were “Two Blackbirds” in the OKC Museum of Art and “West of the City” by Carolyn Mock at the 2007(?) OKC Arts Festival hosted by OCCC. These two particular paintings/prints whisper of stories to me that I hope to someday write.
12. “Desert Song” (song): Music is hard for me to choose. I love so much music, that it’s sometimes hard to tell what has had major impact on my life and what is just really good. “Desert Song” is an encouraging battle song in my mind. When I feel wrung out and dry, I call to God. With His mighty hand protecting me, no weapon on earth shall remain, because He is The Victory and He is here.
13. “You Said (Ask and You Will Receive)” (song): Another song that has great impact on me, largely due to the Perspectives course. This song is a focus on the call to reach all God’s people (the nations) with His Word, and a reminder of His promise that is connected to the mission mandate.
14. Petals (book - not yet available in stores): Showed me that I truly can edit, and love it along the way.
15. Julie & Julia (2009 movie): Yes, this is a movie about cooking and two women who cooked. No, I do not cook (except for the taquitos recently). But now I actually want to. I am not quite so scared of the prospect of cooking (or burning things), and I even think of it as a challenge that could be fun...and tasty. (And, yes, the taquitos were very tasty.)
Sunday, October 4
An Unsettled Heart
One night, I was getting ready for bed, and I was nervous. I had no reason to be nervous, but I could not calm myself down. I was almost excited, but it wasn't exactly what I normally feel when I'm really happy about something and can't contain myself. It was an unsettled feeling near my heart, that persisted no matter what I thought about or did. I paced, bouncing from one thing to the next, thinking that I was simply restless at an inopportune time (as it was bedtime). Nothing satisfied that nervousness. I was in bed, lights out, trying to go to sleep. The feeling was still there and refused to leave me alone.
Finally, unable to think of anything else to set my mind to, I prayed. I prayed for one thing and one person after another, going through a list of people who came to mind. I prayed for my best friends, my family, friends in Stillwater, I prayed for things that were coming up. I prayed and prayed, asking for things such as God's peace and help for these people.
At last, one particular friend came to mind, and I prayed for him. Then the nervous feeling started ebbing away. I prayed for him for a long time, until well after the fear inside me had passed.
I checked up on this friend later and found out he was perfectly fine. All the concerns I had prayed about seemed to be for nothing. He hadn't been in danger (yes, that had come to my mind when I was praying), and things were going well for him.
Huh. Odd.
But until I had started focusing my prayer on him to the God of the universe, my heart was unsettled. After I had concentrated on lifting him up to the Lord, the worry, fear, and restlessness went away.
Friends, that had never happened to me before.
Then it happened again. Another day, this time I think it was the afternoon, that same persistent anxious feeling settled in next to my heart. I'm not exaggerating this, that's exactly what it felt like. It was completely a physical feeling. I was not actually worried about anything when the feeling came.
I remembered what had happened before, so I sat myself down, and started praying for everyone I thought of, specifically and regarding specific things. I kept going, searching for the one thing or person I needed to lift up to God. I prayed for person after person, and the unease didn't go away. After a little while, I thought of the Perspectives class I took last Spring. So I prayed...for the nations. Peace slipped in, overtaking the nervousness. I prayed that the nations would come to know God. I prayed that God's name would be declared, that He would send His children out, to spread the Good News of Christ. This time it took the whole world to calm me down. But I did.
I don't know why this happened either time. I find it a little odd. I don't know why I had to pray specifically for that one person, and I'm not sure why I needed to pray for the nations at that particular moment.
The first time I thought was scary. I genuinely thought my friend was in some major danger or had a big problem right then, late at night.
The second time, I wondered if someone might be having trouble, and I was surprised to find that it was praying for the nations instead of an individual that I knew that settled me down.
It wasn't what I was expecting either time.
Both happened since this past spring season. I forget exactly when. I don't remember how much time passed between the first time and the second, but it seemed like a long time. It has not happened again.
Now I'm just waiting to see if I may ever learn the purpose of those moments.
And I'm wondering if it will ever happen again.
Finally, unable to think of anything else to set my mind to, I prayed. I prayed for one thing and one person after another, going through a list of people who came to mind. I prayed for my best friends, my family, friends in Stillwater, I prayed for things that were coming up. I prayed and prayed, asking for things such as God's peace and help for these people.
At last, one particular friend came to mind, and I prayed for him. Then the nervous feeling started ebbing away. I prayed for him for a long time, until well after the fear inside me had passed.
I checked up on this friend later and found out he was perfectly fine. All the concerns I had prayed about seemed to be for nothing. He hadn't been in danger (yes, that had come to my mind when I was praying), and things were going well for him.
Huh. Odd.
But until I had started focusing my prayer on him to the God of the universe, my heart was unsettled. After I had concentrated on lifting him up to the Lord, the worry, fear, and restlessness went away.
Friends, that had never happened to me before.
Then it happened again. Another day, this time I think it was the afternoon, that same persistent anxious feeling settled in next to my heart. I'm not exaggerating this, that's exactly what it felt like. It was completely a physical feeling. I was not actually worried about anything when the feeling came.
I remembered what had happened before, so I sat myself down, and started praying for everyone I thought of, specifically and regarding specific things. I kept going, searching for the one thing or person I needed to lift up to God. I prayed for person after person, and the unease didn't go away. After a little while, I thought of the Perspectives class I took last Spring. So I prayed...for the nations. Peace slipped in, overtaking the nervousness. I prayed that the nations would come to know God. I prayed that God's name would be declared, that He would send His children out, to spread the Good News of Christ. This time it took the whole world to calm me down. But I did.
I don't know why this happened either time. I find it a little odd. I don't know why I had to pray specifically for that one person, and I'm not sure why I needed to pray for the nations at that particular moment.
The first time I thought was scary. I genuinely thought my friend was in some major danger or had a big problem right then, late at night.
The second time, I wondered if someone might be having trouble, and I was surprised to find that it was praying for the nations instead of an individual that I knew that settled me down.
It wasn't what I was expecting either time.
Both happened since this past spring season. I forget exactly when. I don't remember how much time passed between the first time and the second, but it seemed like a long time. It has not happened again.
Now I'm just waiting to see if I may ever learn the purpose of those moments.
And I'm wondering if it will ever happen again.
Saturday, August 29
Why I Write
I just finished my character sketches and sent them to my novel professor (he teaches novel, but you might say he is a novel person, too). He might send them back and say, "Work on this," or "What does this mean?" or perhaps, "This doesn't make sense," and then I'd have to edit, modify, and make them even better. But overall, I'm done. And that makes me really happy and excited.
There's just something about creating characters, people on paper, that is terribly exciting. Especially when the task is complete. I thought I knew these people before I filled in tiny and insignificant details (along with the overriding, really important ones), and now that I have put them together as much as I can think, I feel like they are real (well, as real as fiction can be; I'm not a total loon). They are real, and they are important. They have hopes and dreams just like me and fears and shortcomings just like me.
I have also started on my novel. After my last Writer's Block meeting, I was so pumped from reading the first chapter to my friends and getting feedback that I wrote the entire second chapter in one night. I wanted to tell this story.
I now have three chapters, and today I hope to work on more. The more I know about my characters and their setting, the more excited I get to not only tell others what happens, but also to find out myself. I want to know more about these people. I think a novel writer (someone who writes novels, but may also be a novel person) has to care about the characters and want to know them better if he is to finish telling their story. If the writer doesn't find the people interesting, readers aren't likely to, either.
Something I like so much about writing fictional characters and breathing life into them, is just that. As God made man and breathed life into his body, I reflect that ability for creation and love of life. Now, I don't actually breathe on the pages and people pop out where I can touch them, but I can make them seem like real, relatable people to myself and to my readers. I can orchestrate their lives so that they are prepared for the trials they face, similar to the way God directs the universe and grants people the skills and tools they need to handle the dificulties in their real lives. (One big difference for which I am very grateful: God doesn't need a second draft!) Thinking like a writer has actually helped me see how God has been active in my own life.
When I write, I worship. I see what I can do to get the feel and idea of people and lives, and it's okay. But it points me to what God has done and what He is doing and what He will do, and that is perfect, just as He is perfect.
There's just something about creating characters, people on paper, that is terribly exciting. Especially when the task is complete. I thought I knew these people before I filled in tiny and insignificant details (along with the overriding, really important ones), and now that I have put them together as much as I can think, I feel like they are real (well, as real as fiction can be; I'm not a total loon). They are real, and they are important. They have hopes and dreams just like me and fears and shortcomings just like me.
I have also started on my novel. After my last Writer's Block meeting, I was so pumped from reading the first chapter to my friends and getting feedback that I wrote the entire second chapter in one night. I wanted to tell this story.
I now have three chapters, and today I hope to work on more. The more I know about my characters and their setting, the more excited I get to not only tell others what happens, but also to find out myself. I want to know more about these people. I think a novel writer (someone who writes novels, but may also be a novel person) has to care about the characters and want to know them better if he is to finish telling their story. If the writer doesn't find the people interesting, readers aren't likely to, either.
Something I like so much about writing fictional characters and breathing life into them, is just that. As God made man and breathed life into his body, I reflect that ability for creation and love of life. Now, I don't actually breathe on the pages and people pop out where I can touch them, but I can make them seem like real, relatable people to myself and to my readers. I can orchestrate their lives so that they are prepared for the trials they face, similar to the way God directs the universe and grants people the skills and tools they need to handle the dificulties in their real lives. (One big difference for which I am very grateful: God doesn't need a second draft!) Thinking like a writer has actually helped me see how God has been active in my own life.
When I write, I worship. I see what I can do to get the feel and idea of people and lives, and it's okay. But it points me to what God has done and what He is doing and what He will do, and that is perfect, just as He is perfect.
Tuesday, August 18
For Joel and Jon
For Joel and Jon.
I'm finally answering the question, why do I like Hawai`i! Ye-Ah!
Okay, I like Hawai`i. I have for years. I like Oklahoma, too. For longer than I've like Hawai`i (a place I've never been). But there's something about Hawai`i that draws me to it, and someday, I hope to at least visit for a while.
Climate is a big deal. The weather is relatively stable (unless a monsoon or something is coming), and at right about the ideal temperature for me. I like to be warm, I don't like to be cold. I like to be comfortable in shorts indoors, but often am not thanks to overworked air conditioners. I also like sleeveless shirts because they're so comfortable, but again, often need a jacket indoors due to air conditioners. So, I think I'd really like the weather.
Location is handy because it's still one of the 50 states, so I wouldn't exactly need a passport.
And because it's one of the 50 states (my home country), yet so different from the rest of them, I'm interested in it. The peoples who have come through and settled there, the mixture of cultures, the mix of languages. These are things I think would be fun and worthwhile to learn about. Plus I love the way Hawaiian sounds and repeats, and yes, I like hula.
The ocean is alluring, and Hawai`i is there. It is special to me because it is a grand assortment of things I like. Many times people have told me that I wouldn't really enjoy certain things that I thought I would like. When I got the chance to find out, more often than not, they were wrong.
I like Hawai`i and I haven't even stepped foot on an ocean beach. I like Hawai`i and I've never smelled gulf water. I like Hawai`i and I've never even been on an airborne plane.
I like Hawai`i, and someday I'd like to visit.
I'm finally answering the question, why do I like Hawai`i! Ye-Ah!
Okay, I like Hawai`i. I have for years. I like Oklahoma, too. For longer than I've like Hawai`i (a place I've never been). But there's something about Hawai`i that draws me to it, and someday, I hope to at least visit for a while.
Climate is a big deal. The weather is relatively stable (unless a monsoon or something is coming), and at right about the ideal temperature for me. I like to be warm, I don't like to be cold. I like to be comfortable in shorts indoors, but often am not thanks to overworked air conditioners. I also like sleeveless shirts because they're so comfortable, but again, often need a jacket indoors due to air conditioners. So, I think I'd really like the weather.
Location is handy because it's still one of the 50 states, so I wouldn't exactly need a passport.
And because it's one of the 50 states (my home country), yet so different from the rest of them, I'm interested in it. The peoples who have come through and settled there, the mixture of cultures, the mix of languages. These are things I think would be fun and worthwhile to learn about. Plus I love the way Hawaiian sounds and repeats, and yes, I like hula.
The ocean is alluring, and Hawai`i is there. It is special to me because it is a grand assortment of things I like. Many times people have told me that I wouldn't really enjoy certain things that I thought I would like. When I got the chance to find out, more often than not, they were wrong.
I like Hawai`i and I haven't even stepped foot on an ocean beach. I like Hawai`i and I've never smelled gulf water. I like Hawai`i and I've never even been on an airborne plane.
I like Hawai`i, and someday I'd like to visit.
Monday, June 29
The Way Sin Works
Everything I despise, I am.
Thank God that I despise it instead of love it. He is holy and demands justice, but that justice, the price, has been paid, and it is credited to me when all I did was add to the debt.
I could not possibly have a god bigger or more gracious than The Most High! He is big beyond this world, solar system, galaxy, universe!
Thank God that I despise it instead of love it. He is holy and demands justice, but that justice, the price, has been paid, and it is credited to me when all I did was add to the debt.
I could not possibly have a god bigger or more gracious than The Most High! He is big beyond this world, solar system, galaxy, universe!
Sunday, May 31
Is there no place like home?
Tell me, what is home? Just take a minute to settle in your mind what you think of when you define home. I'll wait.
.
.
.
.
.
.
I've been thinking about what home means a lot lately. My brother and sister-in-law just moved from one home to another, I recently went on a trip where I stayed in a place that I considered my home, and other things have brought it forward in my thoughts.
For my trip, I visited some very good friends of mine. It was a good trip and a good visit. While I was there, I called their house home and I thought of it as home. It was my very comfortable home for a few days. I tend to think of it as my second home.
Yet on the trip back, as I got closer to familiar territory, I got more and more excited. I was headed home. And I wondered.
I had enjoyed where I stayed and with whom I was staying enough to comfortably call it home, yet I was happy to be going back to my home, because my home was simply that. My home. Why is that?
One of my initial thoughts was I was glad to be getting back to all my things. Sure I had brought what I needed with me, but I had all my stuff at my home. And I wondered, was it really my stuff that made it my home? I didn't think so.
It's nice to have a closet with enough clothes rather than living out of a suitcase. It's nice to have a bigger, softer toothbrush that works better than the dinky, hard one for my travel kit. And there are other things that I couldn't bring with me that are nice to have around. My things. But they're still things.
Is it the routine? While I was on my visit, I was on a vacation of sorts. I didn't really have tasks or a to do list to satisfy. I didn't have much of a time table for the days. I basically had no plans for a day until sometime in that day. Did that make it seem less like home? I've had times like that here...just not during the school year. But then, I still would have been on my mini vacation if I had stayed here, so perhaps that isn't really the difference.
Is it the people? I love the people I live with. I love my friends and family here. But I love the people I stayed with on my vacation, too. Of course the relationships are different, but not in bad ways. As far as people go, the biggest difference between the two homes is probably that I know more people, friends I can call up and perhaps get together with on short notice, close to my home than I do at my second home.
Is it the location? Honestly, there's not a whole lot of difference between the two places to me. Yeah the layout of the town is different, and the location of the houses are different, and the style of houses are different, but both are still cities/towns with shops, stores, streets, cars, people, and parking lots. They both have residential areas of varying quality and fanciness. But really, Wal-Mart seems pretty much the same wherever you go.
So, what is home? What was the answer for you?
My question is, If home is where the heart is, why is the heart there instead of elsewhere? What makes home so identifiable that you cling to it rather than to something else in a different town, city, state, country, continent?
I like to think that I'm transplantable, that I can live in some other place--either similar or foreign to where I am now--and call it and claim it as my home. But am I really? I've never truly been tested in this manner; I've only ever gone on short trips away from home, both short in distance and duration of time.
I think my idea of my home is being shaped, formed, and crafted into something perhaps it never was before. Something that I probably never would have thought it could become. God is at work, transforming where my heart is, so that my home may be what He wants.
...
.
.
.
.
.
.
I've been thinking about what home means a lot lately. My brother and sister-in-law just moved from one home to another, I recently went on a trip where I stayed in a place that I considered my home, and other things have brought it forward in my thoughts.
For my trip, I visited some very good friends of mine. It was a good trip and a good visit. While I was there, I called their house home and I thought of it as home. It was my very comfortable home for a few days. I tend to think of it as my second home.
Yet on the trip back, as I got closer to familiar territory, I got more and more excited. I was headed home. And I wondered.
I had enjoyed where I stayed and with whom I was staying enough to comfortably call it home, yet I was happy to be going back to my home, because my home was simply that. My home. Why is that?
One of my initial thoughts was I was glad to be getting back to all my things. Sure I had brought what I needed with me, but I had all my stuff at my home. And I wondered, was it really my stuff that made it my home? I didn't think so.
It's nice to have a closet with enough clothes rather than living out of a suitcase. It's nice to have a bigger, softer toothbrush that works better than the dinky, hard one for my travel kit. And there are other things that I couldn't bring with me that are nice to have around. My things. But they're still things.
Is it the routine? While I was on my visit, I was on a vacation of sorts. I didn't really have tasks or a to do list to satisfy. I didn't have much of a time table for the days. I basically had no plans for a day until sometime in that day. Did that make it seem less like home? I've had times like that here...just not during the school year. But then, I still would have been on my mini vacation if I had stayed here, so perhaps that isn't really the difference.
Is it the people? I love the people I live with. I love my friends and family here. But I love the people I stayed with on my vacation, too. Of course the relationships are different, but not in bad ways. As far as people go, the biggest difference between the two homes is probably that I know more people, friends I can call up and perhaps get together with on short notice, close to my home than I do at my second home.
Is it the location? Honestly, there's not a whole lot of difference between the two places to me. Yeah the layout of the town is different, and the location of the houses are different, and the style of houses are different, but both are still cities/towns with shops, stores, streets, cars, people, and parking lots. They both have residential areas of varying quality and fanciness. But really, Wal-Mart seems pretty much the same wherever you go.
So, what is home? What was the answer for you?
Your things? The routine? The people? The location?
A place to crash at night? A comfortable place where you can snuggle in a secure blanket away from the dangers and troubles of the world? An idea of ownership? A place of service you open to others?
A refuge? Your castle?
My question is, If home is where the heart is, why is the heart there instead of elsewhere? What makes home so identifiable that you cling to it rather than to something else in a different town, city, state, country, continent?
I like to think that I'm transplantable, that I can live in some other place--either similar or foreign to where I am now--and call it and claim it as my home. But am I really? I've never truly been tested in this manner; I've only ever gone on short trips away from home, both short in distance and duration of time.
I think my idea of my home is being shaped, formed, and crafted into something perhaps it never was before. Something that I probably never would have thought it could become. God is at work, transforming where my heart is, so that my home may be what He wants.
...
Saturday, February 14
Tuesday, January 20
This is how I roll.
The things I give to others and notice in others are the things I need the most and need noticed in me.
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