By the Fireside

~Startling Reflections

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– – –

It can be difficult to see yourself. Sometimes it’s the reflection in the mirror in front of you; the bitterness staring back at you, the exhaustion showing in the rings and shadows under the eyes, the pain in the firm set jaw.

Sometimes it’s the reflection in an illustration, perhaps given by your pastor or read in a blog post; an illustration that describes you perfectly, often in a way you would rather not think about.

Perhaps even more disconcerting, for an author specifically, would be my most recent experience; a reflection of yourself in your own book characters.

I have written a few characters based after me on purpose, mostly in my older works, so it’s not surprising when they take on my traits. It would be rather surprising (and quite odd) if they didn’t. But it is startling when I begin to recognize parts of my character revealing themselves where I didn’t expect. The conviction that follows when I begin to show how these characteristics need work is usually more than I’m prepared for.

Peter tries to forget reality by burying himself in books. He reads book after book in a desperate attempt to hide from the pain of life. When I decide that reality hurts too much to think about, I start reading so that I can fill my mind with a fictitious reality and forget.

Xavier tries to handle life on his own even though he knows that he can and should turn to the LORD in times of difficulty. Instead, he stuffs down sorrow, anger, and pain, and tries to push on in his own strength. Again, I do the same. Far too often.

Claudette fights submission to authority as if it were an illness. She justifies her actions with claims of adulthood. And… me again.

No, I don’t take my fictional escapades nearly as far or as long as Peter, though I might be tempted. I’m not as vocal or rebellious as Claudette at all, but that’s not through any merit of my own. Xavier and I are pretty close in intensity when we try to stuff things down and handle them on our own. (Though, prayerfully, I am improving and taking things to the LORD more often.)

The conviction doesn’t come so much when I realize that we’re alike, even in flaws. It comes when my character has to face that flaw and deal with it – because I now have to face it as well. What kind of hypocrite would I be if I said that Claudette needs to honor her parents and I don’t? Or that Peter needs to face reality, but I can run from it? Or Xavier is too weak to control life on his own, but I am not? No, if they I have to face it, so do I.

I never imagined that writing a novel could stretch or grow me. Journeys of Four has been difficult at times; painfully difficult. There have been moments when I felt like I was being shred and taken to bits as I worked through Claudius fighting conviction and Christine struggling with her shyness. Where I haven’t shed tears, my heart has cried, prayed, and begged for help at times when I thought I couldn’t take anymore – because it became so personal.

I probably sound crazy. I might be tempted to doubt my sanity if I hadn’t lived it. Regardless, while I sometimes wished I could be the passive outsider while writing, I can now look back and thank the LORD for using the experience to draw me towards Him; to teach me about Him.

I confess to being a little afraid of what I may come across and who I might meet in 24 Days Before Christmas, but, on the other hand, I pray that I am open to see whatever lessons the book might hold. Because, if the LORD wants to use it to grow or teach me something, I certainly don’t want to miss out.

Note: I only just found this post, hidden in one of my notebooks. It was written back in June. 24 Days Before Christmas has since been drafted and typed. But that’s another post, altogether…

 

To the KING be all the glory!

~Character Evolution and “Journeys of Four”

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Front Cover - 4 - Journeys of FourJourneys of Four is officially published! It’s finished, done, complete. The cover is made, the interior edited, the bound copy in my hands.

I praise the LORD for where I am at in my writing journey. I now have four books, not only finished, but in published form. Journeys of Four is my fourth book and second novel.

Yet, in the midst of the rejoicing, there is a tinge of sadness. Why? Because I already miss my characters.

Journeys of Four started under a completely different title when I was about seventeen. Since then, the story has evolved and changed so much that I never would have dreamed it possible. Still, through it all, one part remained: the story of Christine Spurgeon as she has her entire Christianity shaken, when her family begins attending a new church.

The above was my basic premise when I first started all those years ago. Then, along came Claudette Crutch, the girl who claimed Christianity, but didn’t act the part. At first, Claudette was going to be a short trial for Christine in the early chapters, then disappear. She wasn’t a main character, a minor character, or even a side character. She was little more than a cameo. That was the plan anyway. By the time I had finished the first draft, Claudette had managed to work herself into the entire book with her own plotline.

When I decided to give Claudette a brother, I imagined that he would disappear even faster than his sister. A young man with a terrible temper and no story. Just a face to fill in a paragraph void. I didn’t give him much thought. Until he threatened to take over half my book. Now, Claudius is nearly as much a main character as Christine Spurgeon.

My last edition came more recently. Seven to nine months before publishing, in fact. Towards the end of the original draft, I had a very minor character. So minor that he didn’t even have a name and you only caught a glimpse of him in one tragic scene. Until a brilliant idea lit up my brain one cold night and Peter Alan Gottswald’s story began to grow, adding to my book, filling it out, and changing it in ways I didn’t expect.

Now, after all of these years, I have to stop. There can be no more weaving, no more additional characters, no more changing, tweaking, or adding to story-lines. The book is done. True, I may drag my characters into another book sometime – after all, most of my books take place in the same “world” – I’ve even given a few of them a short scene or two. Christine, for instance, appears in at least two upcoming books and is mentioned in another published book. Still, I miss exploring this book, dreaming about what I can add and improve.

However, at the end of the day, despite some slightly silly sorrow, I am thankful. So, so thankful that this book has reached publication. The LORD has been gracious to let me get this far. So, now, I’m off to the next book. A Christmas celebration month and a murder investigation, meeting in the small town of Poinsettia. I’m excited already!

Note: This post is old. Six to seven months old. But I wanted to post it anyway.

 

To the KING be all the glory!

~Five Years Through Which Lens?

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– – –

If I could make the current version of myself to stand side by side with the person that I was, say, two years ago, I wonder if I would recognize myself? How about four years ago? Or five?

Five years ago, I had just turned twenty. I remember the month of May well. I got a pocket knife for my birthday. It’s on my shelf. And sheet music. I’m still learning it. I made myself a white blouse and a light, pink jumper in the style of the 50’s. The same dress that I wore to the rehearsal dinner for my sister’s wedding just a week ago.

Still, when I remember that girl – woman scarcely seem to describe her of so long ago – she appears so different than the ‘me’ of today. Her burden of life was different. Her struggles, though they felt so large, were really not that big. And in the intervening five years? I’ve changed and, inwardly, at least, I’ve changed a lot. There are times that I look at myself in the mirror no wand I can almost see the weight of life clinging to my shoulders. So many things have happened in five years.

After my twentieth birthday…

-My dad had to change jobs. The new job paid much better and, in many respects, was an answer to prayer. His commute, however, quadrupled. His hours were long and his drive time extended. While his stress level was so much less, it also felt like we saw far less of him.

-My family had to move from our house of thirteen years with little time, and during Christmas. For someone who likes to keep everything the same around her as much as possible, this felt like ripping me from one world and placing me in a new one.

-Many of our friends started moving. Away from where we were. Some farther than others.

-My mother’s health went into decline again. Or on a rollercoaster.

-We stopped attending our church of several years when it moved.

-We moved again. This time to a different city.

-Then, we moved again seven months later.

-My dear great-aunt died.

-My dear step-grandmother* died.

-Our cat of eighteen years had to be put down.

-We had to give away our dog of nine years.

-My grandfather died.

-And, most recently, I have friends moving even father way, and my sister is gone, having just got married.

These are what constitutes the weight resting on my shoulders, along with our house being re-decorated, (have I mentioned that I don’t like change??) my library being remodeled (silly thing to find a problem – but I don’t like my stores remodeled either…) my schedule changing, another move coming in the foreseeable future – all among other things that I can’t or won’t mention. There are times that I want to ask the LORD if He has forgotten me. And just how much one person can handle; how much loss before they just can’t bear it anymore.

I’m weary. I’m tired of pushing through, surviving, and fearing my future. Because, yes, I fear it far too often. I wonder who I’ll lose next and why. I wonder how I’ll survive it, because I don’t want to try anymore.

But, I wonder… Am I doing this wrong?

After my twentieth birthday…

-I learned the ins and outs of packing up a house and setting up a new one. (Especially the last!) In a speedy and efficient manner, no less.

-I discovered how dear my friends were to me and learned how to reach out to keep in contact, even when I couldn’t see them in person very often.

-I found out that the LORD can, indeed, impart strength, when your own is completely gone.

-I rewrote and published A Year with the Potters.

-I got to watch the LORD provide help when we needed it most while moving.

-I got to watch Him provide when we were low financially.

-I wrote and published Grandmother’s Letters.

-I published A Tale of the Say’s Phoebe.

-I composed my longest and most complicated piece of music on the piano ever, War and Memories.

-I got to work my own booth at the Homeschool Convention – twice! – and discovered that I can converse with strangers while keeping a genuine smile on my face.

-I rewrote and published Journeys of Four.

-I made new friends, both near and far, both in person and online, much as a result of changes occurring in my life.

-I learned to pray like never before in my life.

-I have friends who will always pray for me when I ask.

-I saw how fleeting this life is, but what a legacy can be left.

-I gained a brother by my sister’s marriage, as well as a closer bond with a family who has long been dear to me, and my sister is very happy. (Hence the heading photograph, which I really love!)

These five years, nay, this entire life of mine, can be viewed through two lenses; The Trials and Struggles of Life or The Blessings and Works of the LORD. I just described the exact same five years, but very differently. All too often, I view with the former lens, letting the other grow rusty, and adding to that burden that I can see in the mirror.

Does an alternate view take away the ache of losses? No. Do I miss that my grandfather isn’t hear to ask me to sing to him? That our kitty can’t snuggle with me? That I can’t ramble to my sister about my newest book predicament while we clean the house? Yes. However, even the trials and struggles, are still the works of the LORD. He hasn’t lost His throne just because I’m having a difficult time. The question is, amidst the difficulties of life, am I thankful and can I rejoice? Can I acknowledge the blessings that the LORD has poured down? When I do those things, the weight of my burden becomes lighter – when I give the burden of fear over to Him, recalling that He is on the throne, has promised me strength, and will not give me more than His might and power can’t handle – life looks different. So, different. I can’t see that burden in the mirror. The loss is still there. I will still grieve. But it’s not without hope. I need to acknowledge His blessings and remember the wonders He has done, as the Psalmist says.

In His strength, as His child, with much prayer, I can rejoice, be thankful, and keep my eyes on the LORD, even through the darkest of valleys and the deepest of floods.

Rejoice always; pray without ceasing; in everything give thanks; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus. 1 Thessalonians 5:16-18

Come unto Me, all who are weary and heavy-lade, and I will give you rest. Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For My yoke is easy and My burden is light. Matthew 11: 28-30

Consider it all joy, my brethren, when you encounter various trials, knowing that the test of your faith produces endurance. And let endurance have its perfect result, so that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing. James 1:2-4

 

To the KING be all the glory!

 *It has come to my attention that I originally listed my “step-mother” dying. That was a typo. My step-grandmother died. For anyone who doesn’t know me in person, I don’t have a step-mother and never have. The typo has since been fixed. I apologize for any confusion. One should be careful about putting up a blog post when tired. :)

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“But… This isn’t what I imagined!”

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When I was a little girl – a very little girl – I loved playing with dolls. My sister and I would set up our bedroom, dress our dolls in their prettiest dresses or comfiest pajamas, and play at being ‘Mother.’ Both of us were almost always at the point where we had been married for two years and had ‘birthed’ our ‘daughters’ on the same day – or, at least, in the same week. We played at changing diapers, feeding, and rocking our children to sleep. We went shopping and made dinner. And, if you asked us, we were each about twenty-years-old.

Fast-forward six or seven years. My sister and I still played at being Mother sometimes, but another of our games we called “Orphanage.” (No, we weren’t very original! You should have heard a few of the names we gave our stuffed animals!) Often, my role in this game, was to go to an ‘orphanage.’ (Read; as many dolls as we could pull together in one place.) I would go in and end up decided to adopt every one. My sister was the overly delighted or not-so-delighted, as the case may be, orphanage owner. Sometimes, I was ‘married’ and, other times, I was engaged. And the age of this new parent? Sometimes I was seventeen (a favorite age of mine) and sometimes I was about twenty.

Fast-forward a bit more. At about seventeen, in real time, I had begun to dream more seriously about publishing, at least, one book. One of my dreams showed me polishing and preparing my manuscript, while caring for my husband’s house and rejoicing over my new baby. I pictured myself anywhere from nineteen to twenty-three.

Fast-forward once more to current time, to compare my dreams of being a very young wife and mother, to reality.

In less than one short hour, I will be twenty-five. I’m neither married nor have any prospect of being so, at this point. Consequently, I don’t have any children either. I am an author. At twenty-five, I can claim four published books to my name, with many more in progress. That part of the dream came true. The rest hasn’t.

My point?

Do you know how much I have wanted to react? To ask God, why? To say, “LORD, what I wanted most, all of my life, was to be a young wife and mother. I wanted to be an author, but that was secondary. Couldn’t you see that? Why didn’t you grant it?”

Now, twenty-five isn’t exactly ancient, I know. Just twenty-four feels like it sometimes, but it’s really not. The trouble is, all of my life, I had dreamed that, by the time I reached tomorrow, I would be married with, at least, one child. And I won’t be. Not unless that were to happen in the next 38min. And I seriously doubt it.

And I’ve wanted to ask why? Or rather demand why. I’ve wanted to be upset, because I didn’t get what I wanted.

But… There’s something I had forgotten. Or, if I didn’t really forget, I temporarily put it out of mind.

God is sovereign. God is in control. He is on the throne and He knows what He is doing.

I tend to remember very well that He can do anything, but I tend to forget that He has his reasons for doing what He does.

He let me have those dreams, I don’t know why. But He has a purpose for them. And, yes, I would trade being an author, trade each of my published works, to be a wife and mother, any day. But He knows what He’s doing. He is God and I am not.

I, on the other hand, am called to be content. (1 Timothy 6:6, Hebrews 13:5) And to rejoice. (Philippians 3:1, Philippians 4:4, 1 Thessalonians 5:16)

If I am content and rejoicing in the LORD, even in trials, (James 1:2-4) will I question my LORD? Add to that, the call to give thanks. (1 Thessalonians 5:18)

I am far from perfect at any of these. In fact, I’m really talking to myself here. I am, with much prayer, however, working on it.

Do I still dream? No, not really like I used to. Do I still hope that dreams of yesterday may still be realized, just at a later time period than I imagined? Yes, quite.

The clock is ticking. Midnight is coming. I hope and pray that my year as a twenty-five-year-old is marked by contentment, trust in the LORD, join in Him, and service in His name. I can’t do it by myself – God help me remember that. I’m so thankful that I don’t even have to!

Rejoice always; pray without ceasing; in everything give thanks; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus. 1 Thessalonians 5:16-18

I am the vine, you are the branches; he who abides in Me and I in him, he bears much fruit, for apart from Me you can do nothing. John 15:5

 

To the KING be all the glory!

~You can do it! Keep trying!

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I’ve said these word a lot lately. A certain sweet girl kept telling me that she couldn’t conquer while she struggled with reading.

“I can’t do it,” she would say in a defeated tone, setting down her work and letting her shoulders droop.

“Yes, you can do it,” I answered. “I know you can do it. Keep trying!”

She tends to listen, try again, go for awhile, say she can’t, listen to me again, try again – over and over. She is making progress and that is wonderful to watch.

One of the lovely, yet difficult things I’ve discovered about children, is that whatever you preach to them, seems to come back to get you before long. Like the day that I had them practicing gratefulness, then found myself being served my least favorite food for supper.

But that’s another post.

As I said, my continual refrain of late has been to tell them that they can do things, when they want to quit. Nothing really impossible. Just things that require a little more work than they might feel like they can give it. I’ve said it to several children, but especially one, countless times over the last several weeks. As many times as I’ve said it, I should have expected to be tested on it. I didn’t even consider it.

Not until those children decided they wanted to get me up on a bicycle.

I never did learn to ride nor had I ever even owned a bicycle. I tried for about ten minutes when I was eleven, fell off twice, and never tried again. I had few opportunities, yes, but I didn’t take advantage of the ones I had. Honestly, I didn’t want to get hurt or, worse, fail.

The Marr children have been learning to ride lately and they decided that they want me to learn too. I demurred for awhile, but I had told them about my short trial at eleven. They decided that I should learn now. Then, the same sweet girl who struggles with reading, asked, “Don’t you think you can do it, Rebekah? You should try. I think you can!”

What could I say to that? The bicycle still intimidated me, but how could I use that as a sufficient excuse?

So, I went outside, and got up on the bicycle.

Goodness, were those children excited! My stomach dropped when I looked down at the wheels and handlebars. I tried to steady the bike – and failed. Rosy held it steady, while I pedaled. She held on until I got going, then let me on my own.

I had to restart myself about six times in a quarter of an hour or so. I kept going though, not doing too horribly… until I slammed into a post and went flying through the air, before crashing to the ground. Lesson done for the day.

While tempted to quite altogether, the next afternoon, listening to the begging and cheering of my young teachers, I climbed onto the bicycle again. This time, Lizzie held the bike steady.

By the third day of practice, Lizzie could let go entirely, and I could, with some difficulty, get myself going. Today, no one helped me at all, besides begging me to ride and cheering me on. They take great joy in watching me learn to ride.

Hopefully, I’m learning more than how to ride a bicycle. Not only has this been a good reminder to be willing to practice what I preach, it’s also a good personal reminder, that a little extra hard work and perseverance despite difficulties will eventually be rewarded, be with the ability to read anything or ride a bicycle. In the long run, taking an entire minute to sound out a word or putting up with bruises for a few days when you fall off the bike will be rewarded if you keep going in spite of them.

To the KING be all the glory!