Written with Love

This writing journey has been a long, meandering one with highlights and low points, but I'll save those for another post. My biggest highlight up until now has been when Pat Conroy left a voice message for me after reading my letter. Then he blurbed my first published novel, The Spirit of Sweetgrass. But that was my biggest highlight till now.

On Monday, my 10-year-old daughter finished reading the first book I ever wrote. No, it wasn't The Spirit of Sweetgrass, it was an unpublished book I wrote just before that. Just for her.

I began writing a middle grade novel when I was pregnant with my daughter. She was my first child, and I was terribly excited about her. I loved her before she entered my world, and I wanted to do something for her. So I began writing a book, a novel, inspired by the popularity of the Harry Potter series, but with a girl as the heroine, and instead of magic, more of a spiritual twist.

My character Hannah Bliss was born before my daughter. I'd never written a novel before. Didn't know if I could do it. Didn't know WHAT I was doing. But I finished it. It was bout 33,000 words, a good length for middle grade fiction. I wrote and rewrote it. I decided to see if I could get it published. It didn't go anywhere as I couldn't get an agent, but I learned how to write a query letter. I learned I could finish a book. This was all preparation for my next book, The Spirit of Sweetgrass, which hit me when I was pregnant with my second child, my son.

My first book in the Hannah Bliss series, Paradise, has been sitting dormant in my computer for the last 10 years. I thought it its purpose was served. It taught me I could write a book. But on Monday, I realized I had underestimated it completely.

My daughter was talking about science, and it occurred to me that Hannah Bliss loved science, she was also passionate, messy, a good friend, and sometimes misunderstood...like my daughter. I decided maybe now was the time. I figured out how to put the book on my Nook and asked if she wanted to read it. Lately, finally, she loves to read.

She would go to bed with the Nook, and I would wait anxiously each morning to see what she had thought of the night's reading. "Are you enjoying it?" I would ask. She would nod, and that was pretty much it. But on Monday, she called me from the other room. "I finished it!" she said.

What you must know about my daughter is that she is very smart, very analytical, and will tell you straight to your face what she thinks, good or bad. I ask her about my paintings sometimes. If she's not enthusiastic, she's usually right, and I go at it again.

So before I could ask her any questions about Hannah Bliss, she said, "I think you should try to get this published."

"What?" I wasn't sure I heard her right, so she said it again.

Then she added, "I had to keep reminding myself that my MOM wrote this."

I took that as a compliment. From this point, I asked her all kinds of questions about plot, characterization, etc, and she had some honest critique and some encouragement for me. I wrote it all down. "How did you feel when it ended?" I asked her.

"Like I wanted another book," she said. I thought, maybe she's just being nice to me.

But then she came in when I was cooking dinner and started coming up with ideas for book two, what would happen with Hannah in the next book, the rest of the series.

Wow. I think she did like it! She went on to claim that it reminded her of the author of The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe.

"C. S. Lewis?" I asked. Dying. Gulp.

"Yeah, how he writes things that symbolize other things."

Wow again. I really think she did get it.

The night for me was a full-circle moment, one I never anticipated. It came upon me with the sweetest surprise. I stood there in my kitchen, remembering her in my tummy. I remembered struggling through that book. I had no idea it was preparing me for a career in novel-writing. No idea it would prepare me to write and publish 6 adult novels. No idea the satisfaction that would come about when my little girl was finally old enough to appreciate the novel just for her.

I had written it in love, and apparently, that's the secret ingredient to doing anything worthwhile and long-lasting.

When I picked her up from school yesterday, my daughter said she had Bible study with some of the 5th grade girls and a mom. They were talking about how some people try hard to get to heaven on their own. My daughter spoke up and said it reminded her of this book her mom wrote. "See, Hannah Bliss tries hard to get to Paradise on her own, but she's not ready. When she gets there, she can't stay. She has to stay here on earth and grow and mature."

She told me this, and my heart melted. She did get it. My most important reader understood and enjoyed my novel just for her. For a writer, highlights don't get much "higher" than this.

So I'm waiting any day now for my agent to get back with what she thinks about my latest adult novel. In the meantime, I'm thinking maybe I should dust off Hannah Bliss, and see what adventures she might get into in Book #2.

Do you have old unpublished books lying under your bed? Might you think about dusting them off and sharing them with someone you love?

God Speed: Lessons Learned in the Race

If you read my post Keep Running, you know I just started running 10 weeks ago as a way to grow closer to Christ and watch him shatter the limitations I've imposed on my life.

COMING HOME IS GOOD
Last weekend, this newbie who once could not run a mile, ran a half-marathon in Hilton Head Island, SC. I think it's fitting that the race took place in my hometown. For many years, I had a hard time going back there, reconciling the old me with the new me and the complications of relationships and memories. I also had difficulty accepting all the new stores, roads, neighborhoods, etc that cropped up since I left and changed the place I once called "home." But as my feet began to hit the pavement at Jarvis Creek Park, a place that never existed in my growing up there and then continued onto the Crosstown Expressway, a toll-road that seemed to pop up out of nowhere, I realized several things. One, coming home is good thing, not always easy, but good. It is good to reconcile the new you vs the old one, as you are truly ONE person. And two, running this race on Hilton Head was no accident. I had prayed about this and God had led me through my training step by step. It's no accident the timing of it all coincided with the Hilton Head race. I've just added one of my best memories ever to a place that carried a mixed bag for me before. Reconciliation with place and old self by creating new memories there. Amazing.

A LATE START IS BETTER THAN NONE AT ALL
About thirty minutes before the race, my sister-in-law Megan and I thought we should visit the restroom one more time, just in case. The line was long. So long that by the time we got there, we really did have to go which caused us to start the race 2 minutes late. However, my stopwatch was working this time (It didn't in the Charlie Post race), so I could see my accurate time and didn't sweat the small detail of missing the start. And you know what? Sometimes we start the race late, don't we? I have on many occasions in my life. I think the key is that we start running, no matter if everyone is already way ahead of us.

SOMEONE MUST PAY THE TOLL
After getting on to the Crosstown, I saw the toll signs up ahead. This is not something we see in Charleston, so it was quite a curiosity. I believe it was $1.50 for cars. At about three miles, I was well into prayer and loving the beauty of the place, the nature, the cloudless sky. So looking at that toll bridge brought this simultaneous thought. Someone must pay the toll. But I have no money, my road-weary mind responded. But I have already paid your toll. Wow. Thank you. Yes, there is a toll and someone must pay it to pass. I am grateful that Christ has paid mine because I certainly don't have enough currency to get to the other side on my own.

LEARNING TO ASK
When I first ran two miles with God 10 weeks ago and didn't keel over, I knew I was fully in this. However, running is still not easy for me. There are very difficult days. On a particularly hard run, I will get a bit scared about the long run ahead of me that weekend and ask friends to pray. The first time I did this, I ran like Superwoman. I realized then that I wasn't running on my own, but literally carried by prayer. Now, when I have a long run, I ask everyone, even strangers who offer, to pray for me, because I have learned something more about prayer. Humbling yourself to ask someone to pray allows them to make a choice and then draws you both closer to God. Something moves in the heavens when multiple people are coming together in prayer. Something powerful. Running the long runs have taught me to ask for prayer, and I am witness that great things happen when you do. I wonder why I don't apply this concept to other areas of my life. I have had close friends pray for me when I was "running a marathon" to finish a manuscript, and it has worked as well. Wow. Ask someone to pray for that something that seems impossible for you to do. See what happens.

UNANSWERED PRAYERS CAN BE A GOOD THING
Normally during I run, I don't drink water. I know, how stupid is that? But I pray for my thirst and hunger to go and it does. For the half-marathon, I decided I wanted to finish this race, not fall over from dehydration, so I decided whenever something was offered to me, I would drink it. This proved to be good and not-so good. The good part was I learned how to do the grab and go, taking a swig of water or Gatorade and tossing the cup without breaking pace or throwing water on anyone. The not-so-good part was at about 4 miles, I felt my bladder rebelling. At about 6 miles, I remember passing a sign that said "Restrooms". Yes, I passed that sign. I had never had to stop running before and was afraid I wouldn't be able to get back on track with my pacing, etc. Boy, did I think about that sign for the next over two miles! I prayed to God something akin to: please let this go away without my wetting myself, or let it just evaporate or return to my body, etc. After a good four miles of this prayer, I knew I had to go and God had not answered it. (Thank goodness, I probably would have keeled over from sickness!) Instead, he brought me back around to that same "Restrooms" sign. I almost heard angels singing. I only lost about a minute with the stop and was able to find my pace again. I am thankful God did not answer that particular prayer in the way I wanted, but he did answer it in the way he saw fit. More to come on this, but know that sometimes God will force us to take pit stops to rest or recover. We shouldn't fight these so hard and long, but rest in the fact that his timing is perfect and he sees the bigger picture.

ENVY VS ENCOURAGEMENT
That restroom pit stop let a lot of people in front of me who had been behind. And mind you, I started the race two minutes late. Part of me, the cruddy part, started inwardly groaning that I had lost ground and others were now ahead. But I gripped myself in prayer and instead looked at the face of a gentleman I had easily passed earlier as he now passed me while coming out of the restroom. He was grinning ear to ear, not something people do much in running races. I took pleasure in that smile and smiled myself. Good for him. I started praying again for the people around me, for the man who was limping, for the old woman who was running faster than me. I was swept up in the humanity of it all, pulling for everyone, wanting each of us =to finish this race. And then I saw her. My sister-in-law. She had gained on me when I'd gotten off track. I cheered her on and seeing her pulled me on. I watched her climb the bridge ahead, the one we'd already done on the other side. I knew how hard that bridge was and I prayed and encouraged her, knowing my time would come soon. Putting my thoughts on Megan and others took the thoughts of my own discomfort away. We have a choice in life, whether to whine about how others are getting ahead or to choose to genuinely be happy that they are achieving their dreams. I choose the latter. It makes for a much more enjoyable race.

THE FINAL STRETCH
A half-marathon is 13.1 miles. I had not run 13.1 miles before. My longest was 11 miles last weekend. I was nervous about running those last two miles. Could I do it? Well, that pit stop was apparently in God's plan for me, because I watched my sister in law for a good while and then suddenly, I was getting closer and closer and at mile 11, caught up with her. We ran side by side for those last two difficult miles silently pulling each other on. I'd run that race alone, but God gave me a companion in the most difficult stretch. I am astounded at his timing and will try not to moan so much when my life seems to be full of late starts and pit stops.

WHAT DOES A SNAPSHOT SHOW YOU?
There were photographers stationed throughout the race. I don't know about you, but showing full bare legs in winter, no make-up, hair in ponytail and over 2 and a half hours of running are not the best look for me...or anyone. I just got an email with a link to my race photos and well, they're not so flattering. They do, however, show my hand raised in praise and smiling. They show I wasn't falling over. They show me doing my absolute best. They show God was finishing something he started in me 10 weeks ago. And I think they are beautiful. What about you? If photographers followed you through some of your most difficult challenges, what would the photos show? Your hand raised in prayer and praise? You doing your absolute best? Scowling or smiling? This is something I will take away from this. There are always cameras lying in wait.

IT AIN'T OVER TILL THE RACE IS DONE
In those last two miles running with Megan along the Expressway, a truck came by us with two men picking up the orange cones that had delineated our running lane. We were both thinking it. Is the race over? We looked at our watches. No, the race closes after three hours and we still had time left. We kept running and shook it off. See, even when people seem to be picking up the cones prematurely, your race is not over until it's over. Not until you give it your all and pass that line. Don't let anyone fool you into thinking you're finished when you still have miles to go. Even after everyone has given up on you, don't stop running until you know you've finished your race.

THE FINISH LINE
Megan finished 20 seconds ahead of me. I could see as we rounded the last corner that she put her hands up and smiled in response to someone. I knew, before I even saw them that my children and husband were waiting for me and it helped me run even faster. My son and daughter ran to greet me before the finish line and ran the last few meters with me side by side. What an unexpected joy this was. I can't help but think about this race of life and how someday, when my race is done, loved ones will be waiting for me and help me over that finish line. What a glorious day that will be.
 
FINAL THOUGHT
I don't know what's in store yet. I don't know if I'll ever do a full marathon or what races, if any, will be in my future. What I do know is that agreeing to go on this journey of running has been much more than running. So much more. And here I spent my whole life thinking I'm not a runner and that this part of life was closed off to me. It makes me wonder what other parts of life I have prematurely closed for myself and what amazing blessings might wait for me if I'd just knock on those doors and have the courage to watch God do the impossible through me.
 
God bless your journey. There is more to your life than meets the eye. There are impossible things you are supposed to be accomplishing with God. What are they? God only knows. Ask him.

God speed.