Collect the Details

The green-cushioned cane chair squeaked when it swiveled, so I slid through the sliding glass doors and stepped outside, not wanting to wake my sleeping sisters. And I was so glad I did for God’s “Good Morning” to me that day, as I stood shivering in my blue pajamas on the 4^th floor of the beach condo, rocked my world and trumphed the warmth and comfort inside.

Sitting inside, I could see the turquoise-tinted water of Seaside’s beach; standing outside, I could see beyond the colors all the way to the ocean floor below.

“Rock me mamma!”

Waking up to the lyrics of “Wagon Wheel” rolling around in my head, God rocked me out of a writer’s block that morning, a plaque that had pestered me for over a month.  

Get my notebook.

Collect the details.

Write what I see.

So I did: 

umbrellas like blue polka dots on a white tablecloth

the grey-planked walkway leading to the wooden steps trailing to the water

white S-shape sandbar island with 2 black freckles (birds?)

scrubby cluster of short, green, finger-spiked palms

a flimsy yellow flag that was not waving  

greenish-brown threads of seaweed

And as I wrote what I saw, God continued to rock my world, flooding me with love for Him, gratefulness for his creation, and appreciation for those people he personally put in my life. And on that balcony, I was reminded, too, that it’s not where I am that matters, but in whose world I live in that does - His.

“Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,”  Robert Herrick penned.

A great way to begin a morning of gratefulness.

It Could Have Been Any Field!

 (Photo Credit  -- Valley of Elah -- by Reid Bader)

"It could have been any field, anywhere, just like out here,” and Reid waved his arm in the direction of our back pasture. “There were no tourists, no signs, no markers to designate that anything special had happened. It was simply a field like any other.” 

Yet the field Reid stood on was a special spot for it was the place where a fearless young shepherd named David picked up five stones and fought a boastful, nearly 10-ft-tall giant named Goliath.  

Our oldest son had returned from a trip to the Holy Land, and I asked him that morning, as he whisked through our house, to share one moment he remembered from his latest travels.

That was the moment he shared.

And it’s a moment we’ve read about for thousands of years.

But it could have happened on any field.

A simple remark, a profound thought. For God fights daily on the fertile fields of our lives, too, and we have our own stories to tell. Stories of battles against cancer and victories over fear and struggles with forgiveness and fights against lost hope. Stories that matter. Stories told with raw honesty that encourage others.   

“David said to Saul, ‘Let no one lose heart on account of this Philistine; your servant will go and fight him.’”

Like the battles fought on the field of our own lives, our stories, too, can help others not to lose heart when faced with tough times.  

David’s story still encourages me today. Ours can do the same for someone else.

³² David said to Saul, “Let no one lose heart on account of this Philistine; your servant will go and fight him.”

³³ Saul replied, “You are not able to go out against this Philistine and fight him; you are only a young man, and he has been a warrior from his youth.”

³⁴ But David said to Saul, “Your servant has been keeping his father’s sheep. When a lion or a bear came and carried off a sheep from the flock, ³⁵ I went after it, struck it and rescued the sheep from its mouth. When it turned on me, I seized it by its hair, struck it and killed it. ³⁶ Your servant has killed both the lion and the bear; this uncircumcised Philistine will be like one of them, because he has defied the armies of the living God.

 ³⁷ The Lord who rescued me from the paw of the lion and the paw of the bear will rescue me from the hand of this Philistine.”

 So David triumphed over the Philistine with a sling and a stone; without a sword in his hand he struck down the Philistine and killed him (50).

1 Samuel 17

Snickers, Ghirardelli Milk & Caramel Squares, and Duncan Hines Dark Chocolate Fudge Frosting (Writing Lists #3)

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…

1. Snickers
2. Ghirardelli Milk & Caramel Squares
3. Duncan Hines Dark Chocolate Fudge Frosting in a can
4. Aunt Ruthie’s caramel chocolate brownies
5. Blue Bell Triple Chocolate Ice Cream
6. A Hershey chocolate bar – plain, no nuts
7. Smucker’s Hot Fudge Topping on Blue Bell vanilla ice cream
8. Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups
9. Hot Toll House Chocolate Chunk Cookies  

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:

1. When was the last time I ate it?
2. Do I like eating it alone or with someone?
3. Do I woof it down or suck on it or nibble a bit at a time?
4. How much of it can I put in my mouth at one time?
5. How much can I eat before I want to stop?
6. Do I like to drink something when I eat it? If so, what?  
7. Does writing about chocolate make me want to eat it – duh?!

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!

Why write? (Writing Lists #2, continued)

 Listing, Listing, and Listing

List-making provides a place to begin writing, generating ideas and thoughts and memories that provide even more ideas and thoughts and memories that provide even more…So whenever the words and ideas and inspriation cease to flow, I list, list, list, and then list some more.

Here’s a suggestion for today:

Let's make a list of everyone who has loved us.

Then when we've finished writing our list, let's choose one person on that list and write whatever crosses our mind about that person and our relationship with him or her. Before I begin, I ask God to direct me and surprise me, too. After all, He loves us and knows who loves us, and He also knows what’s in our hearts.

If your list surprises you because of its length, then that is something to write about, too, for writing truth is richer than anything we can make up. Write it real, not superficial. 

I pray that you’ll laugh and smile and even cry as you remember those who have loved you.

And I’d love to hear how the list-making is going!

Why write? (Making Lists #1)

Why Write?

“I haven’t written for a few days because I wanted first of all to think about my diary.

It’s an odd idea for someone like me to keep a diary; not only because I have never done so before, but because it seems to me that neither I – nor for that matter anyone else – will be interested in the unbosomings of a thirteen-year-old schoolgirl.

Still, what does that matter?

I want to write, but more than that, I want to bring out all kinds of things that lie buried deep in my heart.” 

 Anne Frank (Diary Entry Posted Saturday, 20 June, 1942 from The Diary of a Young Girl)

Tragically, Anne Frank died three months before her sixteenth birthday, but those things once buried deep in her heart invite us to remember, to ponder, and to dig deeper into our own, discovering the magnitude of the moments that soon become our memories. Anne wrote what she thought, not what she thought she should, and “the unbosomings of a thirteen-year-old schoolgirl” continue to matter.

Like Anne, I unwind by writing, loving the freedom to stumble across God in a way that I haven’t seen him before.  And in that discovery, I’ve come to appreciate the value of who I am. A flawed woman loved by her perfect God. And that’s miraculous. And it matters.

To me, God sometimes seems to hover out of grasp, a hopeful glimmer of possibility; by writing, I’ve discovered He’s always more real than that vague awareness. As I unveil those hidden things in my own heart, by rambling and wondering and poking around, I’ve discovered God’s omnipresence, one of his many immutable characteristics. A discovery based on my experiences, not from what I was told. And that matters.

I know there are more of us, too, who want to write but wonder, like Anne, if it matters. Who wonder if it’s an odd idea to write. Who wonder if anyone would be interested. And then once the desire is strong enough, even wonder how to start, how to begin pouring out those “things that lie buried deep” in our hearts.

Pastor Robert Stutes shared a fail-proof Bible study method recently at church:  “Just do it!” The Nike method works for Bible study, and it applies to writing, too, for writing doesn’t have to be a prosaic chronological pronouncement of the facts of our lives, which would, in fact, be tedious and not necessarily all that interesting or introspective. Mine, anyway. I haven’t had to hide from the Nazis like Anne Frank or live in fear of concentration camps. But what isn’t mundane is the delightful discoveries of the divine in the details of our lives. Epiphanies to celebrate, not simply lessons to endure. And then always there’s that lovely surprise when God reveals himself in the process of writing. And that matters, too.    

Anne Frank wondered who would possibly care about the musings of a teenage girl. We don’t wonder. Her life continues to speak to us 70 years later. And our musings are equally valuable.

Why write? I say, “Why wait?” And here are a few suggestions to help you begin:

IDEA #1 – Make LISTS, a good way to awaken a memory 

Today, make a LIST of every home you’ve lived in, then choose one of those places and write about it.   

Here’s how my LIST would go…(I’d work backwards because that’s easier for me.)

1. My home now -- our 1907 rust-colored frame house on N. Cummings Street (for 30 yrs)
2. Grey trailer house behind our historical home  (for some reason we thought we could remodel the 1907 house ourselves)
3. Old white house on highway next to beer joint (after we moved to Bellville)
4. West Belt apt Houston when first married to Ian (had a caller/stalker)
5. Parents’ two-story Moorberry house in Houston (a year before Ian and I married)
6. Apt. on Lover’s Lane in Dallas (where there was a serial rapist running around)
7. Apt. on Prestonwood Central (when I first moved to Dallas)
8. Aunt’s home in Richardson (for a month while waiting for apt.)
9. S. Gessner apt (while working in Houston after college)
10. Yikes – 1974 to 77  -- numerous apts in College Station
11. Room 106 Krueger A&M 1973 (next door to the girl who had the baby in the dorm)
12. Moorberry home again (1970 to 73 -- 3 years high school)
13. Daddy Bill’s house on Mona Lee Houston after mother married my step-father (3 months misery)
14. Big house on Austin Street in BELLVILLE (Daddy died while we were remodeling)
15. Crack-house looking apt across from Gana in Bellville (summer while I had mono and parents were working on Austin Street house)
16. Green Concordia Drive house (loved that neighborhood; kids everywhere)
17. Little white house on Hempstead Highway  (4 or 5 years old)
18. One more house in Bellville near O’Bryant Elem, but too young to remember it.

OK! That was an eye-opener for me because my written list was a lot longer than the way I pictured it. So now I’m going to pick the one place that made the strongest impression while I was jotting, and I’ll write about that place and see what pops up!

And while scribbling my thoughts, I’m not going to concern myself with making it perfect. I’m going for discovery, not perfectionism, which is not our friend when we’re free-writing.

So let’s do it! Pick one and write! Avoid trying to dictate the direction, just go with the flow and see what you discover. Write like Johnny Football plays ball, giving it all he’s got! It’ll be fun! Here we go! 

I Remember…

LISTING – a great way to begin!