I have a legacy of writing in my family. My grandfather was a printer for the local paper for many, many years. This was before everything was computerized. He used to set the type and my mother grew up playing with the letters. To this day she can be found carrying a labeller around to organize everything from spices to DVDs.
My uncle inherited that same love for words. He has worked as a columnist for various papers and is currently an editor and columnist at the Detroit Free Press.
As a child I finished reading a novel every single day. I remember my bout with chicken pox in the second grade and how I enjoyed the time, as I sat in a tree and wrote 40 short stories in my binder. My first book reviews were in my sixth grade notebook and I loved writing them, until the teacher told me she couldn't keep up with my book log and I didn't need to write about every book I wrote (no teacher should ever limit a child's interests in that way, by the way). I remember my fifth grade teacher, who was my inspiration, telling me to keep at it and I was going to be a writer someday. All students need to have a teacher who will dream big dreams with them.
I was a painfully shy high schooler. I was the kid who sat in the back of the classroom. Then my English teacher sent me for a "career interest" program at the local paper. Pulling me out of my comfort zone, I had to interview people around the community. It was horrifying.
Then my parents sent me to a Dale Carnegie course at age sixteen. That was the same year I came to know Christ and he refashioned me, asking me to please let him stretch me into shapes I didn't trust. That was writing in a different form he used to stretch me, as I composed speeches I would shakingly recite to a group of adults.
I came to college as an English major. Then I graduated college and a few years later put writing away. There was no space for quiet mindful writing in the sleepless, back-stroking nights of early parenthood.
I joined ACFW reading list to learn about Christian fiction. I was sick of throwing down 80% of the secular books I read because of content, but was also tired of reading less-than-stellar Christian fiction. I heard about many great books and started reading a few of the authors blogs.
I felt this itching deep inside. God longs to use everything we will offer him. I felt the Holy Spirit's longing that I wasn't using everything He had given me.
I don't know where this journey will lead. I only know that He is using my writing once again to stretch me.
I started a blog and I love every minute of it: the reading and reviewing books, writing my heart (however clumsily that might be). How he uses even this to sort out the wrong motives in my heart, the things that keep me from giving Him my everything.
Then I started a novel. Then I put away that novel as I felt a different tug entirely. Now I sit shaking as the stretching happens.
I'm preparing for interviews for research. God has lined this up to be part of the slow inch-worm stretching process. I am at once excited to hear the fascinating stories, yet terrified at this pulling. There have been so many unexpected surprises on this journey.
Its the doors I don't knock on that open freely.
I puzzle at this season. I don't know how I will even finish this novel as it comes in bits and snippets in the midst of my life as a homeschool mom.
So I practice unclenching my hands, loosening my grip. He longs to pull my upturned arms to the sky.
Again, I see through the darkened glass...his shadow. He simply calls me to reach out through that darkness and I feel his tender touch.
It is enough.
4 comments:
This is beautiful. Looking forward to seeing the results of your stretching!
Thank you so much, Linda! I'm just about to pop over to your blog to see your surprise :).
Interviews? Is this a historical novel? My interest is piqued. I look forward to reading it someday.
Well at this point I'm averaging about 5 pages a week...so definitely a few years out before I finish :).
I'm not sure on the genre. I guess it would be closest to women's fiction with a bit of suspense thrown in about the process of leaving a cult.
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