Mother Inferior

Why I Write

I'm at Laity Lodge this weekend, taking a spiritual non-fiction writing workshop with Lauren Winner, one of my favorite memoirists, and some of my fellow High Calling Blogs editors (and, yes, I'm in book-nerd heaven). This morning, Lauren handed out a piece by Joan Didion called "Why I Write," and she asked us to spend a few minutes jotting down our own explanation for why we write. I loved hearing all the other participants' answers, and it was a good exercise to remind myself why I am committed--even in the midst of holding down a full-time job, going to church, maintaining friendships, and being available to my family--to the craft.

I write to figure out things. My back can be tense, my head aching, my shoulders up to my ears-- but until I have time alone to process why I feel stressed, I couldn't tell you why. And miraculously, after I write down words on paper, or type them on a keyboard, my shoulders have relaxed.

I write as prayer. The act of stringing unconnected words together and having them be semi-coherent is liturgy to me. As I scracth things out, it's as if each word is a bead in a rosary. I massage them and lift my eyes once in a while, murmuring incoherently, and somehow I feel a connection with my Creator.

I write to connect with other human beings. When I share something I've written and the other person reading it nods and says, "Me, too!"--in cyberspace or in real life--a bridge opens up between us and we can walk across the gulf that existed before.

I write because I love words. I love their sounds, the way they look, and the way they can form sentences in new and surprising ways.

I write so I can breathe in the midst of a world that's too crowded, too noisy, and too painful.

I write so I can read. Reading is a habit, a compulsion, and a joy. It's the thing that waits for me as a treat at the end of a rough day. As a writer, the reading I do is deeper and more satisfying because I know how hard it is to do well.

I write regardless of whether or not something will get published, whether or not someone will read it, and whether or not it's "good."

I write because I love it.

I write because I have to.

I write because at the end of the day, as much as I see myself as a child of God, a daughter, wife, mom, and friend, at the very core of my being, I know this is how my mind works. This is how God has gifted me.

Do I ever want to give the gift back? Sure. Sometimes, it's too hard to be sensitive-to see the details instead of the big picture; to long for solitude when everything in the world seems committed to fighting against silence and stillness. It's too hard to suffer from rejection of my work, to feel alone in a crowd, to constantly crave the time I don't have to put words on paper.

And yet.

This is who I am. This is who God created me to be.

I write because I am a writer.

All Shook Up

When I was eleven, I wanted to go to India. Someone came to my church in Dumas, Texas, and asked for volunteers to join a gospel crusade. I longed to go on the trip, but my parents said no. (Now that I have a 12 year-old, I completely understand. Back then, I was just mad. And self-righteous.) Eventually, I surrendered to a life of ministry, not knowing where it would take me. I thought I would be a missionary to Africa or to some other exotic land. After all, the world was waiting. I just knew God would send me somewhere amazing, because I was willing.

Since then, I've gotten to be a part of mission work in Canada, the Philippines, Germany, South Korea, Switzerland, Austria, and Italy. I spent two gloriously difficult years touring 46 out of 50 states with a Christian drama/music team. In that group, I met my husband, Carey, and we've ministered together ever since through youth work, writing, speaking, and the creative arts. But I never lost the love for global missions that I had as a pre-teen. 

A few years ago, I was sitting in bed, reading an article about Natalie Grant and her passion for rescuing and restoring the victims of human trafficking. As I read her descriptions of the terrible things that were happening all around the world to innocent children, mostly girls, I began to sob.

I'd been through loss, depression, and immense fatigue during the previous few years, and God had used godly counseling, doctors, friends, family support, and scripture to begin the process of healing my heart. He'd also stirred up empathy in me. I hated to see people broken, because I had been there. I wanted to help--so they could experience healing, too. I guess you could say I was "all shook up." (Yes, that's a reference to Carey's amazing Elvis impersonation. But it fits!)

Carey came into the room while I was crying and asked what was wrong. When I told him, he held me. I said, "I don't know what God's doing, but He's working in my life and I can't get away from it." I had prayed for God to give me His heart, His eyes, His concern for people--and it seemed that He was answering that prayer.

He understood. After all, we had both read Irresistible Revolution by Shane Claiborne, and we knew we wanted our family to become more involved in global issues, shining the light of Jesus in dark places.

After that experience, I began working on a book proposal, called Brave New Woman, and praying about how God could use us. We raised money as a family to provide a well for a village in Africa through Life Today, tried to serve others through our church and other avenues, and kept talking. But to be honest, I never felt like we were doing enough or giving enough. Sometimes I got frustrated because our jobs and parenting didn't leave much time for anything else. I knew God had me where I was for a reason (and for a season)--and that maybe I was just changing the world, one diaper at a time, by investing in my kids, community, and husband.

At one point, I was sure God would give me a bigger platform--more speaking and traveling, bigger book deals and larger stages--so I could spread the word about the bigger causes He had laid on my heart. [I know God laughs at me when I try to figure things out like that. He probably shakes His head and says, '"Nice try, sweetheart."]

I never in a million years expected that He lead me to move back to the Texas panhandle, the very place I couldn't wait to leave as a precocious eleven year-old. I was shocked that He chose to uproot our family so soon after moving to Fredericksburg. It had to be God--I mean, who moves from the Hill Country of Texas to the flat, arid panhandle? Usually, people migrate the other direction!

But it's just like Him to plop me smack-dab in the middle of a faith-based organization whose very mission is change lives and bring hope. Every day, I see homeless, mentally ill, disabled, persecuted and poverty-stricken souls in need of assistance. Yes, some of them take advantage of the help offered them, but many of them only want a hand up, not a handout.

Catholic Family Service has a hunger ministry, a youth shelter, and more. In our division alone(Refugee Resettlement), we have people from 14 different nations who speak 19 different languages. You don't get more global than that!

And "shook up" doesn't really begin to describe the emotions I've felt as I've educated myself about the refugee crisis our planet is facing. Did you know the AVERAGE stay in a refugee camp is 7 years?! Did you realize that there are 15.2 million refugees in the world, and 4/5 of them live in developing or third-world countries? Over half of the refugees are urban, and many of them are children. Most of them will never go back home, or make it out of the camps.

Such facts are staggering, and knowing that I'm some small part of the solution (although a very, very tiny one) is extremely fulfilling.

As I work to create more awareness of CFS's role in Amarillo and the surrounding community, I'm grateful that God plucked me out of the land of beautiful wildflowers and put me back down in the land of gorgeous sunsets.

The world has come to Amarillo...and all I can say in response is, "Here am I...send me."

1000 Gifts: What I'm Thankful for Today

136. Waddling animails in tuxedos

137. Taking a stack of books home from the library-and helping my boys do the same

138. Ice cream trucks with musical tones that beckon, "Come and get it!"

139. A red VW van labeled "Groovy Gramps"

140. Homemade popsicles

141. Kids' theater classes

142. Bee Gees' music

143. Seeing my 6 year-old enjoying books and reading them himself!

144. Apricot roses

145. Ice-cold lemonade

146. Hammocks

147. Butterfly gardens

148. Hurricane lamps

149. Orange spice tea

150. Tassels

151. Birdcages

152. Cozy, warm place(s) to stay while we're in limbo between here (Fredericksburg) and there (Amarillo)

153. A nice, affordable, cute and quiet place to live when we move to Amarillo in July

154. Good job interviews and exciting possibilities

155. A Christian school for both boys to attend next year--and openings in both their classes

156. Time spent with extended family in Tennessee

157. A good fish fry

158. Pork barbeque sandwiches with coleslaw

159. HGTV

160. The High Calling Blogs network

161. Hummingbird feeders

162. A godly family heritage to pass on to my boys

163. Rockbox Theater

164. Granbury Live theater

165. Our friends in Granbury

166. Our buddies in Fredericksburg

167. Relationships and memories from our days at Southwestern Seminary in Fort Worth

168. Facebook

169. Getting in touch with old friends

170. Knowing that true friends always have a place in my heart, and keep a place in their heart for me

Walking on Water

Recently, I read again about the night that Jesus walked on the water...when Peter and his co-horts were in a boat, in the middle of the lake, in a storm. At first, the guys thought Jesus was a ghost, but Peter said, "Lord, if it's you, ask me to come out on the water." (Maybe because He knew only Jesus would request something that crazy!)

Most preachers and scholars focus on the fact that Peter sank when he got his eyes off his master and saw the waves. But what God impressed upon me during this particular reading of the scripture was:

Jesus waited until nighttime, in a storm, to walk on water. He knew it would be stormy, and He knew Peter would try to get out on the lake with Him. He could have walked on water anytime, like during the day, when the skies were calm. So why did He choose to come out on the lake--and ask Peter to join Him--in the middle of a ferocious weather event?

A few months ago, God (and my hubby) asked me to step out in faith. I didn't want to at first--I don't like change. Every house I've lived in, and subsequently moved from, has claw marks on the doorjambs. :) Yet, I knew that God sees everything, and that He knows best. And I've walked hand-in-hand with God long enough to realize that sometimes He has to test our faith in order to strengthen it. So I said "yes."

But it hasn't been easy. Some mornings, I wake up with a queasy feeling in my stomach. There have been many moments I didn't know if I could take any more. My heart feels bruised and sore, and I have a lot of questions. I feel shaky and look at the waves...instead of at Jesus. I wonder why He chose to ask us to step out NOW, when it's dark and the wind is fierce. Wouldn't walking on water on a sunny, calm day be more fun?

And yet...Jesus has walked very close to me. It's something I've experienced before--that in one of the hardest seasons of my life, I feel the closest to my Heavenly Father. Whether it's a scripture at the exact moment I need it, a song that comes on the radio, or a voice telling me to "Be still," He has been very personal, sweet, and thoughtful.

I'm discovering that walking on the water isn't so bad, because Jesus is with me. It's definitely an adventure--and I'll have a LOT to write about on the other side!

1000 Gifts: Gratitude Galore!

115. Fresh flowers

116. God sparing our friend's life last night!

117. Switchfoot's music

118. The movie Motherhood with Uma Thurman--about a mom blogger!

119. Jodi Piccoult's writing

120. The smell of freshly-baked bread

121. Growing up on a ranch

122-124. My nieces--Molly, Lauren, Kaylen

125-6. My nephews--Noah and Justin

127-8. Julie and Malesa, my sisters-in-law

128. Will, my brother

129. Marty, my bro-in-law

130. Seeing Date Night with my sweetie and laughing so hard I hurt!

131. Sleeping while it rains

132. Reading in the sun

133. Watching the deer in the field behind my house

134. Cinnamon toast made by my mom

135. Backrubs

An Online Conference--Get Revived!

The Woman Inspired "Get Revived" conference will take place next week and I'd love to "see" you there!
 
This is going to be an life-changing online event and I'm so honored to be speaking with the wonderful group of teachers, worship leaders, authors and bloggers that the team at WI has assembled. I'll be leading a session on Thursday morning of next week. My topic is "The Joy of Freedom." Othr speakers are presenting great topics like developing a spirit of gratitude, dealing wtih life's challenges and keeping our spiritual gas tanks full.

The conference runs March 15th-19th, 2010 - so there's only one week left to register! It's really affordable and you won't believe what you get for the money. What you can expect for a $12.95 ticket:

    * Live sessions, entirely online, with some of the Christian community's
most popular speakers and authors.
    * Ability to download all of the MP3's from all the sessions, as well as
handouts, chat logs, and presentations.
    * Participation in real-time question and answer sessions with all of your
favorite speakers.
    * Lots of downloadable swag as well as entries to win some great prizes!
    * Fellowship: make some new life-long friends and experience some fun and
fellowship.

Let me know if you sign up. I'd love to hear your feedback after the event. :)

1000 Gifts: For These, I'm Grateful

In You Bring the Confetti, Luci Shaw wrote: "A grateful heart is not only the greatest virtue,  it is the seedbed for all other virtues." How I agree! I'm now part of the "1000 Gifts" community over at A Holy Experience. Mom and author (and a fellow High Calling Blogs network member and community editor) Ann Voskamp created the community to encourage us to look for the daily blessings God gives. I plan on posting a list of small wonders every week until I hit 1000.

26. Getting donuts with my boys and talking about silly things

27. A sunny spring day

28. Tulips

29. Gentle rain during the night

30. Hugs from frirends

31. A favorite author's blog post that reminds me of God's truth

32. This verse: "Rest in the Lord and wait patiently for Him. Do not fret; it leads only to harm."

33. Charlie and the Chocolate Factory with Johnny Depp ("Good morning, Starshine. The earth says hello!")

34. Susan Isaac's amazing book, Angry Conversations with God: A Snarky but Authentic Spiritual Memoir

35. "The Middle" on ABC

36. Patricia Heaton

37. Coffee with hazelnut creamer (non-dairy, if Dr. Harper is reading this!)

38. Encouragement from my agent when I need it

39. Fireplaces

40. Toddlers

41. An awesome new playground just blocks from our house

42. Fun co-workers

43. Oldies music--which pays our bills! :)

44. French country decor

45. Great books about writing

46. Thrift store shopping

47. Dave Ramsey's Financial Peace University 

48. Warranties

49. An Ipod dock (I don't like the feel or sound of headphones)

50. Watching Jackson read things by himself and be sooo proud

51. My new mini-laptop

God's Waiting Room

About thirteen years ago, after I'd begun experiencing an early miscarriage, I had to go back to my Ob/Gyn's office several times for blood work. It was excruciating--and I'm not talking about the needles.

Every time I went to the doctor, pregnant women in various stages of gestation surrounded me in the waiting room. I hated it.

Now, I'm in the midst of something similar--only this time, I'm in God's waiting room.

It's excruciating--and I hate it.

The wallpaper is ugly, the magazines are outdated, and everyone's name BUT MINE is getting called. I feel like I'm in some kind of Purgatory or limbo--and I'm not even Catholic.

A few times, I've visited the front desk to ask how long it will be. The receptionist stares at me with blank eyes, and tells me to go sit back down.

I'm tired of listening to Muzak. I'm tired of watching other people get in to see the Doctor.

And yet...

This morning, I was near tears as I ran an errand. I did have the car tuned to K-Love, which is a LOT better than Muzak. And suddently, one of the most extraordinary voices in any genre of music--Tiffany Arbuckle of Plumb--sang:

"Whenever you run away

whenever you lose your faith

it's just another stroke of the

pen on the page

A lonely ray of hope is all you'll need

To see

a beautiful history.

I am here

I'm holding you

You'll make it through this.

I am here.

I am here.

---

Okay, how does the Great Physician do that? How does He know exactly what I need, the very moment I need it?

I don't know...but I'm glad He does.

So I'll keep waiting (not that I have a choice <g> ). Only now, the music sounds a lot better. And the magazines have gotten really interesting.

Unlike Me, God Doesn't Forget (Whew!)

Every other weekend, I get paid to do one of my favorite things: sing. Along with my husband and several others, I’m a cast member at Rockbox Theater, a live music theater.

The only problem is that I have trouble remembering things.  :)

Otherwise it’s a great job. I work with creative, godly—and yes, even humble!—performers who value excellence and love to laugh. I’m very thankful to have such an unusual, fulfilling job. In fact, the other cast members and I have been working together for over ten years. We’ve done over 2,000 shows during that time—sometimes in very close quarters. And we still like each other! How cool is that? We’re more like family than coworkers.

There are a few drawbacks to working in the theater, however. First, my hubby and I have to spend long hours away from our two boys—one of the reasons that I only work two weekends out of four. Second, we have to miss out on a lot of social events. Third, we have to stay in shape to fit into our costumes (okay, that’s actually a good thing, except around Thanksgiving, Christmas, Easter, my birthday . . . but I digress).

Another downside is that I have to use my brain. A lot. For someone who is memory-impaired, that’s difficult. I could blame it on my thyroid, which is on the slow side, on two childbirths, or on my rapidly advancing age. But whatever the reasons, I have trouble remembering things.

Ah, there’s the rub: a performer has to recall lines, staging, costume and set changes, props, lyrics, and music. If one happens to forget where she put her microphone, and she finally finds an extra one but misses her light cue and has to start singing offstage, it does not look professional.

Hypothetically speaking, of course.

Thankfully, I have a great boss who is very forgiving. And by God’s grace, my glaring mistakes are few. I make plenty of small errors, but experience has taught me to never telegraph them to the audience. Most of the time, the people in the seats don’t know the difference.

But I do.

And after one particularly gaffe-heavy rehearsal, I started thinking how grateful I am that God’s brain isn’t like mine. He doesn’t forget me—ever.

Sometimes, I’ve doubted that. When my prayers go months (or years) without answers, when relentless trials crash like waves into the shore of my life, or when someone dear to me suffers, I wonder . . . did God turn his back for a minute? Where is He? Did he get busy with other things and forget about little old me?

The children of Israel asked those same questions while they suffered captivity at the hands of their enemies.

Isaiah’s reply comforted them, and it reassures me:  " . . . I will not forget you! See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands; your walls are ever before me" (49:15-16, NIV).

Just like I sometimes make notes about crucial info on my palm with a Sharpie marker (oh, Sarah Palin, how I empathize!), God—the Maker of the Universe—has written my name on His hand. How about that?! Even better, my "little old" problems, fears, and dreams are always in the front of his mind.

Now THAT is something I will choose to remember.
---

A version of this piece originally appeared on The High Calling website in 8/08.

Amid All the Horrible Headlines--God Believes in You

Plane crashes, bombings, earthquakes...the headlines are horrible today. Let's face it: the world is a scary place. Always has been, but it seems that lately it's even more scary.

At every turn, banks fail, presidents falter, and our security blankets (a healthy body, a job with benefits, friends) are taken away. It's enough to make me want to crawl under the covers and never come up. So what's a girl to do? Well, I've learned enough to know NOT to panic, although that's my first instinct. (Okay, sometimes I panic. But I try to limit those instances to a few seconds instead of days.)

Instead, I breathe deeply, eat a little dark chocolate, and remind myself of eternal truths.

A character in one of my favorite movies, The Count of Monte Cristo, was convinced God had forgotten him—if He even existed at all. In the film, which is based on the book by Alexander Dumas, Edward Dantes (played brilliantly by Jim Caviezal) is framed for treason by his best friend. He’s then locked away in a remote prison for thirteen years, while his family and fiancé are told he’s been executed. While in prison, Edward meets a fellow inmate, a priest. The priest helps Edward by teaching him reading, writing, economics, and swordplay. He also enlists Edward in a plan to dig out and escape, which the two carry out together. 

As the man of God mentors Edward, he encourages the lad to forgive his friend, forget plans of revenge, and acknowledge that God is real. But Edward will have none of it. You see, Edward gave up on God long before he met the priest, during his first few agonizing years in prison. When the priest suddenly dies, he urges Edward to forget vengeance and remember God has a plan for His life. Edward tells the priest, “I don’t believe in God.” And the priest says, “It doesn’t matter. He believes in you.”

I never fail to be moved by that scene, because it reminds me that my feelings don’t affect God’s reality. His love never changes, and His presence never leaves us.

My friends may desert me…but God won’t.

My body will fail me…but God won’t.

My children will leave me…but God won’t.

    My parents will die…but God won’t.

    My bank account may falter…but God won’t.

My husband will disappoint me…but God won’t.

    My dreams may crumble…but God won’t.   

If we will hold onto the Truth that God is perfect in love, constant in grace and holy in purpose, it can comfort us as we experience the ticking of the clock and the sometimes-frightening changes in our bodies, relationships, and world.