I love to read, and I have an eclectic list of writers who are on my on-call list, authors I depend on to “do it for me” and keep me entertained and interested, yet challenged and inspired, writers like CS Lewis, Mark Buchanan, Frank Peretti, Frederick Buechner, Anne Lamott, and then there’s Robert Parker when I want a quick fiction fix with fast dialogue. Most writers I enjoy reading are a strange and wonderful menagerie, willing to open their veins and bleed, risking humiliation for the sake of honesty. I learn from them and ponder their thoughts, I acquiesce with some and are inflamed by others, and they’ve influenced my life; however, it’s not the writers I read but the people I love and who love me -- my husband and children and family and good friends -- who impact me the most, for they are the ones with whom I’ve shared my life.
John Ortberg, another lovely writer with a free-flowing, extremely clear style says that God “can take what you have to offer and make a difference that matters for eternity.” The value of who we are doesn’t stop when our life on this earth does, and that’s another valid reason to write: to leave behind a written legacy of an examined life, the life we’ve actually lived which isn’t necessarily a list of lessons learned, but a life of moments shared. And the beauty of writing is that we have control over what is seen for we have freedom to tear it up or chew it up or set it on fire or whatever we want, which is pretty awesome considering how little control we have over, well, almost anything!
Writing lists excavates the forgotten, nudging us to prod deeper than the surface, shoving aside the obvious and discovering the omnipresence of God in what was once a fleeting moment, an epiphany which is, by far, the icing on the cake.
And speaking of icing, food is a great go-to for generating a list. For example, we can list our favorite desserts or favorite ice cream or favorite fruits or favorite Mexican food restaurants or favorite comfort foods. We can list the weirdest foods we’ve ever eaten, the healthiest foods or the opposite! An endless list of possibilities, food-listing provides.
As we create those lists, forgotten memories will resurface. Sometimes, one particular food will grab my attention, and other times I’ll meander until one emerges louder than the rest, but as I list, I’ve learned that’s it more fun to let go, allowing the writer in me to roam for that’s where the surprises are. At times, that discovery is a delicious detail; at times it’s harder to chew. Regardless, it’s the flavor of my life. The bitter and the sweet and the sour and the salty.
For example, today I’m going to list my favorite chocolate treats, mainly because I haven’t had any sugar in awhile except for Dove dark chocolate, which is another story…
I really like…
And now, instead of choosing one, I’m going to sample several just like I do when Ian brings me Valentine candy, nibbling one piece, then putting it back in the box before finally discovering the candy I want to eat. And if I need help, I might ask myself:
And then as I meander through the chocolate maze, I’ll eventually tumble into a moment to savor, not just the Lucy moments that make us laugh, but the difficult and dirty ones, too. And in that smorgasbord of memories, moments that have made up my life will reveal themselves -- my sister licking her Snickers and snickering at me since I had long devoured mine. Scraping the icing off the entire chocolate cake and hearing my mom’s furious screeching. Going downstairs in the middle of the night and scooping dark chocolate Duncan Hines frosting out of the can with a cold metal spoon, a furtive activity that would have kicked me off The Biggest Loser!
Yet for all the sweet memories, there are others, too, not so sweet but meaningful and important and valuable, moments for me to chew on first and share later. Or not. For now, it’s enough that I bravely face them alone, asking questions and contemplating the answers. For example, when did food become such an issue anyway? When did I cross the line between enjoying it and then worrying about it? How old was I when I began feeling guilty about eating?
These questions are worth contemplating, for they matter to me; to anyone else, who knows? But if I’m inspired to write them, I will, bleeding and crying and coming to terms at times with thoughts once unuttered and actions not understood.
I asked my freshman students the other day, “What goes at the end of your introductory paragraph?” One young girl responded, “A period!” I was expecting the logical answer, “a thesis statement,” but what I got was the literal, an answer I’ve continued to ponder. Because she’s exactly right. Sometimes you have to stop, put a period at the end of that part of your life, and then get on to the next thing. And for me, the therapy of writing, the praying to God, and the finding of peace is yet one more way I see God’s active involvement in my life.
And the icing on the cake is that it might help someone else, too. For the fragrant legacy of our lives doesn’t end when we leave this earth. Maybe one day I’ll have a young granddaughter struggling with food issues and she’ll read about the time her grandmother once ate a gallon of Blue Bell ice cream or woke up with a dead peanut butter sandwich on her pillow or had to weigh in each week on a platform scale before her drill team peers. And maybe knowing my struggles, she will benefit from the ponderings of my heart for God can take anything and use it for his glory. Even chocolate!
Snickers, Ghirardelli, and Duncan Hines – oh my! Follow the chocolate dessert road, and you might be surprised where it goes!