Meditating on Moses, 3

Today at church we had a time where people shared their fears. It was a very emotional time of sharing. People were sharing their deepest fears - their deepest pains.
I have had my share of fear and pain, but I am not in that place right now. But I was reminded of what God told Moses when He first called him: God had heard the Israelites crying out. Today I heard my church crying out, and I was convicted that my refusal to move forward with my calling is rebellion.
I know that my books will not solve people's problems. But I know that they will bring hope to some who need it. And to continue to withhold that because writing is so much work or because I listen to the voices of criticism or for any reason is to shirk my calling. So I'm going to keep writing and stop wringing my hands. God gave Moses a tongue to speak, and God has given me a brain and hands to write.

Easter S'mores

So a friend of mine at church and I were talking about our love for Easter candy last year when we came up with a diabolical idea: Easter S'mores. It's simple, really. You replace a regular marshmallow with a Peep, and the chocolate with a Cadbury cream egg. Then you microwave. YUM.
It's that time of year, and so me and Randy will be making Easter S'mores this coming Sunday. I fully expect to gross everyone out with our twisted yet delicious snack, and I also am looking forward to the SUGAR HIGH!
I've googled this and as far as I can tell, it's an original idea. I'll be sure to post photos.

Meditating on Moses, 2

Exodus 3:13-14 "Then Moses said to God, 'Suppose I go to the People of Israel and I tell them, "The God of your fathers sent me to you'; and they ask me, "what is his name?" What do I tell them?'
God said to Moses, 'I-AM-WHO-I-AM. Tell the People of Israel, "I-AM sent me to you."'"

Obviously I can't tell an agent that God sent me. I mean, I could, but I doubt that's going to be very effective. What is the underlying fear here? I believe it is authority - what God has authority to send people? Which God of their fathers is Moses talking about? The one who led them into captivity in Egypt? What does this mean for me and my writing? All I can think is that it is a clarion call to my inner critic - the Fraud Muse as a friend calls it. When she rears her ugly head, I can hold mine high and tell her that I AM has sent me. Or in the words of the Blues Brothers: I'm on a mission from God.

Meditating on Moses

Exodus 3:9-12 Message: "'The Israelite cry for help has come to me, and I've seen for myself how cruelly they're being treated by the Egyptians. It's time for you to go back: I'm sending you to Pharaoh to bring my people, the People of Israel, out of Egypt.'
Moses answered God, 'But why me? What makes you think I could ever go to Pharaoh and lead the children of Israel out of Egypt?'
'I'll be with you,' God said."

I know God is with me. I spent a whole week last fall in the desert, experiencing God being with me. God and I just hung out, and God was with me constantly. It is reassuring to know that God is with me. It is still scary to think of taking action based on that. That's why I'm meditating on Moses this week. Moses had a passion to see his people set free, just like I have a passion to see people set free. Moses' passion exploded in the wrong time and caused him all kinds of trouble. I can't think of a specific example, but I know I've been looking for a murderous way to set people free and God has consistently denied me that (She even convinced me to be a pacifist!). And now I have a way - a path to bring people hope - my book. And I just feel like Moses - what makes God think I can do that? How dare I even say *I* can do that?

God is with me. Like a parachute. Now I just have to jump out of the plane.

ISO Big Hairy Audacious Goals

Our pastor today continued his excellent series on faith, which you can listen to here. Dale and I had a good discussion afterwards. Basically, Ed talked about how Jesus seemed to be getting frustrated with the disciples because after the feeding of the 5000, they were still worried about little details like whether they had brought enough bread with them. They just weren't getting it.
It's funny for me, because I spent a lot of time searching for a BHAG (thanks, Pastor Mark), and actually gave up. I decided that quietly influencing a few dozen people at my church would be well worth it. And then, with this series, I took on the faith goal of getting my book published, a BHAG if there ever was one! Now I'm scared, and I also know that if I succeed, it will CLEARLY be an act of God.
So after the sermon, we had a time of feedback. And Dale noticed that people didn't seem to be getting it. They all talked about their "bread." He wanted to say something, but couldn't think of a loving way to do so. He's still looking for his BHAG. But he understands that there's more to life than the details of our own small needs.
One thing I observed and Dale agrees with is that realism gets in the way of these things. We set realistic goals - calling a faith goal something that is really just an achievable goal. But Jesus wants us to set crazy, unrealistic goals. Goals that require faith; goals that, if achieved, would show God's glory and God's handiwork.

On the plus side

It was very interesting to read last night at writer's group. I only read the first half of my story, which is deliberately vague about a certain character. About a third of the people there were able to figure out that character's situation, which I like - it means I dropped enough hints but not too many.
However, there was something else. Several people picked up on a theme that I had not intended. However, knowing the parts I had already edited out, I knew that they were right - there is a second theme in the story which I hadn't discovered yet. It's really cool because their insights helped me see what was lurking beneath the surface of my story - and it makes the story that much more powerful. I'm definitely going to spend time exploring this aspect of the story.

What is going on?

So I did some preliminary research yesterday and all of it points to one very daunting fact: I must finish my book before I can find an agent for it.
I have 50,000 words thrown together, all from differing points of view, with internal inconsistencies, and an unwritten climax that I just can't figure out. I feel very far away from even a first draft of the book.
So did I mishear God? I thought God was telling me to look for an agent, not finish the book. Was God telling me to finish the book, but in a roundabout way? Add all this to my Moses complex (Nah, God, really, you don't want to speak through me), and you've got one confused author.
But it's not all bad news: I attended writing group last night and got great feedback on my latest story. It's encouraging to know that at least 1 small group of strangers find my writing compelling.

The Boob Squish

Yes, today I had my first mammogram. I was as scared as a wet cat surrounded by possums. My boobs started hurting pretty much the minute I got up.
Fortunately, I was well prepared. I took 10 mg of Valium (approved by my doctor) and had a friend drive me to my appointment. Not only did she drive me, she came in the room with me and held my back so in case I got light headed I wouldn't fall down. And then after the appointment we went immediately to Ben and Jerry's and I had chocolate ice cream.
As for the procedure itself: NOT BAD! I mean it. It was hardly even uncomfortable. Now, this is coming from a woman who willingly contorts into yoga poses in a 100 degree room, but I can tell you - I'd rather have another mammogram than do 30 minutes on the elliptical, at least in terms of comfort.
I'm 35 years old, and I had this mammogram because my cousin did a baseline at 35 and discovered cancer. I don't care what the new guidelines say - every woman needs to have a baseline mammogram, because now, when I go in again at age 40 or so, they will have something to compare to. Of all the procedures women have to have, I will tell you, this one is probably the least disagreeable.
So take care of yourself and your boobies!

Perspective

Last week was a rough week for me. I got strep throat, had my period, and faced my fears by committing to look for an agent to publish my WIP. And during all this I was changing my anxiety medication, which resulted in some emotional upheaval to boot. (don't worry, I am working closely with my doctor).
And then, today, I read this. And I think about how blessed I am - that I can call a doctor and play with my medications, that I can get in to see a doctor immediately and get antibiotics, that there are never gunshots in my neighborhood (although there are gunshots in other Raleigh neighborhoods).
Kerry Smith is taking God-sized leaps of faith and I'm whining about how scary it is to find an agent.

Talking with God

Yesterday our pastor gave a sermon on faith and taking risks for faith. At one point in the sermon, I wrote down in my journal my questions: why don't I feel like I'm taking a risk with my writing? Why isn't it scary? Well, then, at the end, he suggested we all write down a seed of faith we would plant this week. I quickly thought up one, a rather personal one which had nothing to do with my writing. And then the pastor continued, saying that we would turn in our seeds of faith and the prayer group would be praying over them this week. So I immediately decided to change mine. And that's when God snuck into my brain.
Get an agent to publish your book was the thought that snuck in. Now, let me tell you, my other idea was not NEARLY this terrifying. I fought back. No way, the book isn't ready to be published. Get an agent to publish your book. But I'm not ready to write a book. Get an agent to publish your book - once you have a contract you'll have time to finish writing it. No, I'm not ready. I felt like Moses talking to the burning bush, and I knew it. So I grudgingly wrote down this seed of faith and dutifully turned it in.
(A side note: our church isn't entirely creepy - I clarified after service that our prayer group won't actually be reading the seeds of faith, just praying over them).
So now I'm committed, and all of a sudden my writing is TERRIFYING. Not the search for the agent, but the possibility that someone might accept - that someone might actually decide, hey, that's a good idea and I want to publish your book. Maybe this is ridiculously optimistic, but on the other hand, it is also committing myself to an action that, if successful, will truly show God's power at work.
Let me tell you people - talking to God is risky business...

Great Lyrics

In this day and age, when a hit song can seriously contain the lyrics "rah rah ah ah ah ah, roma roma mama, gaga, ooh la la," Dale and I feel that it's time to remind people that there used to be songwriters of high quality. U2 is a stellar example of songwriters who create moving quality lyrics. Their lyrics are not only mysterious, they are socially conscious and semi-Christian. And they are also perfect for those who are heartbroken or happily in love.
To showcase U2's quality lyrics, Dale and I have created a short audio montage, with appropriate images. If you can successfully identify all 21 U2 songs, using ONLY the movie, then you are a true U2 fan and we will buy you a copy of the latest U2 album. Put your answers in the comments section!
Deadline: Friday March 12. Be prepared to explain how you identified each song - remember, no Internet searching or album liner note checking - just watch the video. :)

7 quick takes

1. I did hot yoga again this morning. While on one leg, I thought, I have lousy balance. Then I decided that from here on out I will instead think: I have improving balance. Which is also true.
2. Strangely, getting up at 5:30 am does not leave me feeling completely worn out all day.
3. Facebook ads aren't working currently, which is frustrating.
4. I spent an hour this morning sitting in the sunlight, drinking hot tea, petting Shadow, and praying. The perfect way to continue the day after 45 minutes of hot yoga.
5. I'm about to go talk to a local business to see if we can help each other out.
6. I miss Fringe, but tonight I'll head into Durham for a theological discussion.
7. I have a feeling that while I'll enjoy the discussion, I'll still miss Fringe...

Hot Yoga

I'm laying on my back in a dimly lit warm room. There is a yellow fabric tube billowing slightly above my head, pushing steam in, I assume. I focus on my breathing - the heat makes my lungs contract but focusing relaxes them. People slowly file in, quietly rolling out their mats and joining me on the floor. Soon I realize that I am the only one with my head towards the far wall. I move my mat back and align myself with the others. The instructor comes in and we begin.
It starts with deep breathing, moving our arms. As my fingers reach toward the ceiling they feel the hotter air. My feet are still cold, but that doesn't last long. We move into poses and do leg lifts, lunges, crunches, and rotations. When we balance on one leg the room is filled with elegant flamingos while I flounder back and forth, my lifted leg constantly crashing to the floor.
When we finish the instructor whispers "Namaste" and I lay on my back, head towards the ceiling, breathing deeply. My legs are trembling and my abs ache. I sit up slowly and drink my water, sitting up as straight as I can as I gulp down the water. Eventually I get up and leave the room, the last one out. I think I'm going to enjoy hot yoga.

March 1

I've figured out that March is my February. Everyone always complains about February - how it's depressing and feels like never ending winter. I like February because it has Valentine's Day and my birthday, and really, what's not to like about 2 gift opportunities in one week? But March, that is a different matter. In my mind, March should be the beginning of spring. By March, I should be shedding my sweaters and multiple layers and furry boots and wearing loose, brightly colored clothes. By March, my toes should be seeing the sun and I should be able to work in the garden and get sweaty. But March, alas, is usually a continuation of winter - cold, rain, wind. I don't like March.