Heart Ache

Let me start with: I am not suicidal.

Today, I ached for Heaven.

I have many roads ahead of me that I can choose. Change is coming in my life, but whichever direction I pursue will require some sort of preparation and will take time to fall into place. So, I was struggling with the frustrating paradox, that is somehow possible, that both too much and nothing is happening…at the same time.

But I think that behind all that “inner conflict” and disappointment and fear and desire to move forward was the heartache for the new heaven and new earth.

I wish for many things that would be “better” than what I have right now. But today I kept thinking, in different wording, that all is vanity. Now, it’s not all vanity if one knows God and lives for and with Him, honoring Him as King, which I try (horribly imperfectly; thank God for His grace!) to do. So I know better than to think that everything is true vanity, but at the same time, life here on earth will never be enough.

I think that’s what my odd emotions messing up my day came down to. I could get a sweet car, but it wouldn’t be enough to satisfy and make my life right and exactly where I want it to be. I could have the best friends in the world, calling me up and caring for my often invisible hurts, and in many ways I do, but that’s also not enough. I could meet the man of my dreams to partner with through the rest of life, but even that would not satisfy me perfectly or forever. I could make it on that long-term mission endeavor in a new land, serving others and drawing them closer to God...but that would not be enough either.

I have good things now. And they do not satisfy.

Because this world is fallen short of the glory of the Most High God, and everything in it is tainted with the pervasive touch of sin.

 

This night I watched the sunset, brilliant golds and oranges with hints of pinks on the edges of the dark rainclouds. Stunning. It both soothed my heart and brought to light that which was upsetting me so much all day. I long and ache for a perfect world, where things of the world are never temptations but can be safely enjoyed as gifts, where beauty oozes from every cranny, where there is no more sickness and suffering…where there is the presence of God in person.

Last week I shared a song, an old favorite, with some friends. Today, I think I lived the lyrics.

"Think Over What I Say"

It's good to start in context from the beginning of 2 Timothy 1 and mull over this paragraph a bit:

2 Timothy 2:1-7

¹ You then, my son, be strong in the grace that is in Christ Jesus. ² And the things you have heard me say in the presence of many witnesses entrust to reliable people who will also be qualified to teach others. ³ Join with me in suffering, like a good soldier of Christ Jesus. ⁴ No one serving as a soldier gets entangled in civilian affairs, but rather tries to please his commanding officer. ⁵ Similarly, anyone who competes as an athlete does not receive the victor’s crown except by competing according to the rules. ⁶ The hardworking farmer should be the first to receive a share of the crops. ⁷ Reflect on what I am saying, for the Lord will give you insight into all this.

Contents May Be Other Than They Appear

"Short" should not be considered an insult any more than "tall" is. Last I checked "tall" is almost always considered a good thing. (The line "All the great ones were tall" from "While You Were Sleeping" is even a joke in my family; we're all tall...and Ox is funny.)

Thank God He didn't give us only one color. Nor is the world limited to one terrain, one type of tree, one type of fish, one type of mammal, one type of fruit, one type of culture, one type of music, one type of media, one type of weather, one type of bug, one type of writing utensil.... I could go on but the word "type" is getting old. ..I digress. Don't you see? Isn't it a good thing that we have not just a little variety, but a lot of variety in each of these things I mentioned? And that's not an exhaustive list there.

I'm six feet tall, and sometimes I wear high heels. You feel awkward because I loom over you? Guess what. I feel awkward because I loom over you. (It took me a long time to be convinced that, as a tall woman, it was okay for me to even consider heels, and sometimes I still regret the choice. But, really, they're just another style of shoe--more variety!)

Praise God that we're different!

You see, God is not confined to height specifications. Don't put Him in that box.

Sometimes big things come in little packaging. And sometimes big packaging contains small treasures.

Now I'm not knocking it. The height of our bodies affects who we were, are, and will be as people. It has impact on the makeup of our character. Nothing wrong with that. It's another way that God makes interesting variety.

(Brief theoretical: if I were shorter, say 5'5" because it's convenient and roughly average [If I were shorter than that, I might never have come out of my comfort zone...ugh], I would've been even more reserved than I am now. Though I'm not the quietest person I know, I tend to internalize and observe before I join a conversation, and it takes me a long time to warm up to a new situation. My best friend would have had a harder time pulling me out of my shell after high school and forcing me to reach for my potential by stretching my boundaries. I would never have considered playing volleyball in college [I didn't play, but it was offered out of state]; I probably wouldn't have even liked the game very much. I would be a different person than I am now, because I am a small person in a large body. I'm okay with that now, but if I had been shorter, I wouldn't have grown as much in character and embraced my full personality as much as I have.)

I'm glad I'm the height that I am. I had to grow into it, but I kind of like being a small person in a large body. And I'm still growing. I'm also glad that I know short people, tall people, and average height people, and can call them all friends.

I needed height in order to grow. I needed six feet in order to be brave. Without it, I would still be hiding. I know plenty of short people who aren't stopped by height differences. They didn't need to be tall in order to step up. And now we have, in something seemingly insignificant and out of our control, yet such a large part of who we are, a glimpse of the Creator's design that points us and others to Him in wonder. Isn't God's gift of variety in such a simple thing marvelous?

So, for fun, what do you think you would be like if you were shorter or taller? And how has your height shaped you?

Security

From Ephesians 1

¹³In him you also, when you heard the word of truth, the gospel of your salvation, and believed in him, were sealed with the promised Holy Spirit, ¹⁴who is the guarantee^[d] of our inheritance until we acquire possession of it,^[e] to the praise of his glory. (Ephesians 1: 13-14, emphasis added)

Crown Him With Many Crowns

On my drive to church, there is a tree that looks like a crown. It is split into three main branches, balanced around the center. I first noticed it during the fall season, when the leaves reveal their inner color and brilliance and the trees around start slimming down to their branches. This tree with three branches and the crown I see remind me of the High King, and I'm not talking about King Peter from Narnia. I'm talking about the King of kings, whose crown when He hung on a tree was full of piercing thorns. God the Three in One, Maker of the universe (including this tree I see), Judge of mankind, and Redeemer of the world.

This little tree is a big reminder to me, and I smile when I see it. I don't see God's face directly (Exodus 33:18-20), but I see His gifts, and His handiwork is all around us. Just open your eyes.

Rainbow Gift

Since beauty comes from God and He has a vast imagination, He's given us beautiful things, like little love notes that point back to the giver's heart (and that is key), all over the place.

I remember a time not too long ago when I was driving home from a little errand running and I took my favorite back road home. I was having a hard day, but it occurred to me suddenly that the day was lovely and I was missing it because I was too focused on my own problems, thus limiting my imagination from looking up at the sky. When I looked up, hanging in the sky was a beautiful sundog, a glowing rainbow in the mist of the clouds. It was brilliant and gorgeous...and all mine.

At first I reveled in it, grateful for God's surprise touch of beauty for the few who lift their eyes heavenward. Then I felt guilty for not sharing it with Mama, but in truth I didn't have time. I was close to home, but by the time I would have gotten home and gotten Mom up, it would have faded and she wouldn't get to see it anyway.

So I pulled over and just enjoyed the present and the Giver. It was a reminder that the world is full of God's beauty, even when there aren't rainbows dancing in the sky, and I had let my eyes close to it. All beauty comes from God and He gives it abundantly, sharing it with any who will look at His splendor.

Have you had a time like this? Maybe a rough, boring, or even restful day that was missing something, and God showed you a glimpse of His beautiful creation? As creative as He is, I imagine it could have looked more than a thousand different ways. What's your story?
 

Makeup

Do you like makeup? I didn't always, but I do now. I used to misunderstand it. I only saw the bad aspects (women wear it to hide their natural faces, it's a mask to create beauty instead of reveal beauty, it emphasizes that women aren't beautiful without it...). As much as I wanted to be pretty, I refused to buy into the hype to a negative extreme.

I wasn't allowed to use makeup until I was at least thirteen years old. By that time, I had come to understand that makeup wasn't what made a girl pretty. And, honestly, as it was brand new territory, I was satisfied enough with my face (more on that another time), and I didn't want to work hard to learn the techniques, I didn't start to actually use makeup until late into my teens.

Sure, I'd play with it from time to time, but it wasn't until I got to college (and, I admit, several years into college) that I would use even mascara on a regular basis.

See, my problem is perhaps the opposite of many, and it's also two-sided.

As I understood it, many girls and women wear makeup in order to be seen as beautiful. They put a lot of work into it because without it they don't think their faces are pleasant to look at. With me, I saw a couple things about my face that I liked (I've always liked my eye color) but I didn't understand that, when used well, makeup can be a means of enhancing one's existing beauty. I had a cynical view that it was a mask slapped on in order to have a facade of what's theoretically pretty, as dictated by cosmetic makers and Hollywood's bottom line. I understood the idea perpetuated about makeup to be "you're only beautiful if you wear our products and look like a magazine cover girl." Though I didn't think myself particularly pretty, I refused to believe the message that I needed makeup in order to be attractive or worthy.

So, side one of my problem, I wouldn't believe "makeup = pretty face" (and conversely wouldn't believe "no makeup = not pretty"), which led to an avoidance of the product instead of thinking it through.

The second part of my makeup issues (aside from sheer laziness and lack of skill applying it) involved, once again, my fear to be perceived as beautiful. There is power in beauty, and not showing it is safer both for myself and for those around me. It took years of friendship to a girl who liked to play with makeup for fun and a couple of conversations on the topic for my thinking to shift to a healthier state. Yes, sometimes it can be fun to go over-the-top with makeup and play with color (something I still have a hard time actually doing...I'm not very bold). But my friend understood that makeup didn't have to be a mask, and could highlight the natural beauty (akin, if you will, to a dress style that flatters your body type).

So, side two of my problem, while makeup can reveal beauty, I would rather be seen as less pretty.

I still don't wear makeup all the time. But now I like to use it a little more to show off my blue eyes by making my eyelashes stand out more. Or I can highlight my cheekbones (which I now like) and happy flush with a touch of added color (have you found an inexpensive blush that doesn't have sparkles in it?). My lips...well, I think I was born with red lips or something. I'm still pretty happy with just chapstick or a hydrating gloss or something like that. I don't usually seek out added color on my lips (unless I'd like them to be more pink than red, in which case, I usually can't get that anyway, so yeah) because then I'd look clownish.

But basically, once again because of my growing understanding of how God made me and who He made me to be, I am okay with finding a balance between makeup and no makeup, and I'm realizing that with or without it, I am pretty. It just depends on how I feel like expressing my best (or good) (like different styles of clothing, no?). I can look my best with makeup. I can also look my best without it.

After all, if I reflect the beautiful Most High, how can I go wrong as long as I don't seek to mar His image? (I need to not fear what He has given me. I'm always beautiful, whether I believe it or not, because that's how my Father made me.)

Makeup doesn't make a woman's beauty, but it's okay if she wants to enjoy it as a gift from God to His daughters.

Have you had difficulties with motivations for wearing or avoiding makeup? Where has your path taken you so far? Do you think you need makeup in order to be beautiful?

Compliments

So, I would still rather hide than write a post today. I guess I'm learning as I write by forcing myself to practice what I know. I just wish I knew what would be best for you to hear right now. As that is outside of my realm of control, you (and I) are stuck with my random thought of the day.

Can you take a compliment? I'm not often very good at it. I'm not even sure why, because sometimes I can agree with the kind thought expressed. I like to play guitar because I like the way it feels and the way it sounds. When someone tells me I played nicely, I can maybe say thanks. When I cook food, I hope to enjoy it as much as I hope others do, so when I'm told it's tasty, I can say I'm glad.

But when I'm told I'm pretty or "elegant" or something along those lines, there is something in me that I suppose becomes embarrassed. Maybe it's because I have done nothing to make myself "elegant" (adding makeup, while it can be done well, does not count in my mind toward this, especially when I haven't put on makeup and I still hear the compliment).

Strangely, sometimes I can agree that I look nice, so it's easier to accept notice of it. But when I don't think I look nice in that moment, everything's out the window and I have a hard time accepting that someone else thinks I look good. Why is this? I like to hear nice things about myself, but I don't always know how to believe them. Have you ever faced this conundrum? It's only been recently, since I've been understanding and accepting that God sees me as beautiful (all the time), that I can think I'm pretty more regularly or accept compliments from others more often.

My outward appearance hasn't changed, but my heart toward God and my understanding of His viewpoint has.
 

Beauty Offers Rest

Are you drawn to beautiful things? I am. I didn't always think it was okay to admit it, but I always have been.

I like the cute shoes, I like elegantly cut dresses, I like flowers, I like butterfly wings. I like a clean kitchen counter, an open floor, a subtle tablecloth, the wild bunnies in the yard. (I could go on.  No, really, I could—the surface of a lake, blue dragonflies, hair colors and textures, the grain in wood—but I don't need to.) All of these things express a certain beauty to me. Now, often you may hear me use the word "cute," as it is one of my favorite words for describing most anything that is small or fuzzy (or small and fuzzy), but "cute" doesn't have to mean "I like it but it's just not to the level of beautiful."

Dictionary.com describes "beautiful" as "having qualities that give great pleasure or satisfaction to see, hear, think about, etc.; delighting the senses or mind." That covers a rather broad spectrum, don't you think? I'd like to add this to my understanding of beauty: Something that is beautiful offers rest.

It may seem like an odd claim, but I believe it's important. Think about it. What's your favorite type of landscape? Maybe an ocean view with a clean beach in a brilliant sunset, maybe a forest in mist, maybe a desert with scant shrubs and cacti and a growing rainstorm on the horizon. Maybe something else entirely.  Imagine it. It's okay, take a moment and think about a location that takes your breath away. Maybe you've been there in person or maybe you've only dreamed it. See it in your mind; smell it; hear it. Does it give you something? Does it quiet your thoughts, soothe your spirit, calm your emotions?

It's beautiful, isn't it?

When I'm out under a vast sky that sits over me like an over-sized bowl I simultaneously feel small and big. I feel like I could drink in the blue air forever and never taste it all. I feel like I could stretch my arm and pluck a cloud from its invisible perch. I could stay there forever sitting in beauty, simple elegant beauty. I could examine the shades of the sky; I could watch the clouds floating away. I could breathe deeply and not worry. I'm given the opportunity to slow down (stop and smell the roses?) and not direct my focus on my to-do list or past failures or even future wishes. I could allow myself to rest right there in that moment.

There's a reason for that. It's rather simple, too. When I am surrounded by the sky, when I am both small and big, I understand, in a way, the presence of God. He is there. He created this particular scene in this particular moment. He designed every detail as an artist labors over a painting. Yet, His art constantly changes without losing any craftsmanship or appeal.

God made beauty. And He didn't make just one kind of beauty. Did He stop with just one kind of stunning landscape?

It can be easy to miss. We have many things to accomplish. Families like to eat, clothes must be washed (maybe it can go one more day), school and work assignments must be met, friends want to get together, bills should be timely, and so forth. And while all of those things can be good (please don't claim that I'm saying not to take care of these things), we shouldn't lose sight of what a moment of beauty offers. We should remember the grand value of beauty, and remember that opportunities to rest in its gift can be anywhere.

Beauty can be found in week-long, out-of-town vacations. It can be found in our daily routine. It can be hidden and uncovered like treasure. It can be displayed for the world to see. It can be shared through laughter or ingrained in our hearts with honest tears. It is in the big and grandiose, the little and average, and the inbetween.

Beauty is everywhere because God is everywhere. And God offers rest through His gift of beauty.

Uluwehi, not Invisible

I would rather be invisible.

Invisibility is safe. No one watching, no one judging. No one impressed, no one disappointed. Invisibility can be lonely, but loneliness hurts less than abandonment. Invisibility doesn't require taking risk. I don't have to put myself out there for others to see if I'm invisible. I don't have to show vulnerability to others if I'm invisible. If I'm invisible, who would see to help?

But I'm not invisible. The Invisible One sees me when no one else does. And He thinks I'm kinda pretty beautiful.

I don't know that I have that much to say. I don't know that my thoughts, my words will benefit any of you. But I do know I live for a God Who created beauty as a blessing, and He made woman in His image to uniquely reflect the beauty of His character. His daughters, princesses all, need to know their beauty. They need to know that it comes from and has grand value through Him.

This has been on my heart lately. I don't know how long I'll write about this, and I can only speak from my own experience, so I will be plenty limited. But I think my sisters need to be encouraged. Not encouraged to put on more makeup, buy the right blouse, or shine that smile when you'd rather cry, but encouraged to be real and to realize the reality of your own beauty. It is there. You may not believe it, but it is.

For a long time I didn't believe I had beauty. Oh, sure, sometimes I thought I looked a little pretty or I felt pretty (often I felt prettier than I thought I looked, go figure that one out for me). But most of the time, pretty wasn't something to be or aspire to. Yet I am, though even now I have a hard time believing it. But it's important that I do, not to glorify myself but to magnify the One Who gave me my beauty.

And when I do believe it, I want to hide it because hiding it is safer. Hiding it diverts attention away from me and that saves me and others from the disappointment of not having beauty and the danger of indeed possessing beauty. Beauty draws others to it. This is both natural and good, but I fear the risk that comes with all good things in this fallen world. I fear the perversion of beauty; I fear beauty being used in a destructive manner, whether intentionally or not. I fear my own beauty being used so.

I would rather be invisible. But beauty is needed to be seen.

So I hope to pursue what it means to grow in beauty. Uluwehi.
 

Introducing ThePlotPoint

I know it's been a while since I've posted, but I have something exciting to share now.

I am a writer. You know this. I've had fun mentioning some of the steps I've taken in the writing process as I work on my novel.

Today, I have another step to announce.

Today, I launched ThePlotPoint, the trademark for my writing and my writing career. I have expanded to a Facebook profile, Twitter account, and a Blog. These sites will be my main media to share more about my writing life and my stories. I will update them regularly, and I have a variety of fun stuff planned.

You can follow my crazy antics on my Twitter, and learn more about my novel, now titled Makani's Serenity, on my Facebook and Blog.

I hope you will join me in this next step in the adventure that is life.

As Peter Pan said, "To live would be an awfully big adventure."

Dorathea Maynard

ThePlotPoint

My ramblings on respect.

I need you to start saying "Go get 'em, Tiger" instead of treating me like I'm incompetent.

Ladies (Gentlemen, if there is error in my thinking, I need to know),


Did your mama teach you how to show confidence in your men (dad, bothers, brothers-in-law, cousins, uncles, grandfathers, future husband, etc)? If your growing up experience was like mine, the answer is yes..and no. And really not enough.

I try to say, "Do you want this _(insert unnecessary, though potentially handy item)_ just in case...?" and "Would you rather _(again, insert likely unnecessary item or idea, and very possibly something he can't actually do because of outside restrictions)_ ...?" and the like. I hardly ever say outright that I believe the best of them.

Ladies, your men don't want to be namby-pambied. It's not helpful. Do they want your love? Sure. But, believe it or not, they may just well prefer your respect. They don't want you to baby them by trying to take care of every little detail. They want to be men, strong, capable, the supporters and providers. Let them. Build them up for that, but don't think you're making them that on your own. They want to know you trust them to handle things, to be intelligent and think things through, to do the best they can, and to take care of you and others.

Historically and traditionally, the men fought the wars and battles. This is not discrimination against women nor should it be offensive. Ladies, face it, we are physically (and mentally) formed differently than men. This is actually something to be happy about as it is a reflection of God's creativity, diversity, and desire to display different aspects of His glory with prominence. Men have the bigger and stronger muscles. They have more testosterone! They enjoy being strong more than they enjoy being pretty. Adam was formed with a purpose in mind. So was Eve, but her purpose was different than Adam's even though they shared as equal partners in life as a married couple and as God's children.

So, ladies, let your men keep their man roles. And let them know you know they have what it takes.

And think about this, too. Confidence in your men, if thought appropriately, is really confidence in God. Read Ephesians 5:21-33. Did you see it? Did you notice specifically verse 22? What did it say again? "Wives, submit to your husbands as to the Lord" (New International Version). That's more like what I'm used to seeing, and I think it is often taken as "you must always do exactly what he says." But The Message translation put the same verse in a way that I thought was pretty helpful: "Wives, understand and support your husbands in ways that show your support for Christ."

God is in control. Do you agree? And He raises up His children in His image for His purposes and His glory. And He has promised to take care of His children. Now, that doesn't always mean what we think it should, but God never promised us that we would make it through life without suffering (really, why do we even think that? do we not know the stories of Joseph, Job, David was persecuted by his own son, the apostles were persecuted and martyred for Christ, and, oh yeah, Christ hung on the cross and suffered hell).

But if we trust God, really trust Him, we will trust Him with our men. We may not always like what happens, but we have to remember that God wants His name to be glorified throughout the earth, and He is not inactive. He is at work to accomplish His goal, and He uses the entire world (which, He created; He has every right to do so) to bring it about. Our men are a part of God's plan, and we, ladies, can not control it (nor should we want to, but that is a heart matter that can be worked through only by His grace).

Do you have respect for and confidence in your men? Better yet, do you have respect for and confidence in the Father?

Cheer Up... It could be worse.

Is "it can always be worse than it is" a positive way to approach a friend (or yourself) in a hard time? Is it helpful and good? Is it discouraging and convicting to others when they just can't feel happy but think they should be more grateful because they know in their heads that the statement is true?

How does it fall with this?

How should such a thing be approached? And how can it differ depending on the person?

Unexpected. But then, what hasn't been?

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.

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.

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.)

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.

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.

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.

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!