Friday, March 18, 2011

Five Minute Friday: On Waiting

Topic: On Waiting

Funny how I sit here waiting for words to come and nothing immediately pops into my head, so I start typing and hoping something will, kind of a literary fake-it-till-you-make-it. I've never cared much for waiting, but God has really done some rearranging in my heart in that area and I have found it's a little easier knowing that good things generally do come to those who wait. I did read once that the follow-up to that saying, though, is "...but only what's left behind by those who hustle", which I admit also has merit. Waiting to exhale...lady-in-waiting...waiting room...what are we waiting for? I've been asked that with regard to the book I'm supposed to be working on. I'm waiting on God. That sounds totally nose-in-the-clouds, but I assure you it is anything but. I keep hoping He will give me some kind of undeniable sign of exactly the pathway, a picture of the road sign, maybe, of the approach for this thing. And still I wait. And pray. And wait.

Time's up. (Shew!)

Adventures in Randomonium

I'm learning that it's okay to let life be infused with randomness. Fun, even.

For example, in my email this evening I received a daily writing prompt that said, "You are in the back seat of a taxi..." To which I immediately responded, "Oh, no I am not! I saw 'The Bone Collector', and this girl will so not be catching a cab!" Then I laughed out loud at myself. It's good to laugh at oneself from time to time, and out loud is even better.

So it didn't offend me at all when someone commented to me, "You are unusually random this evening!" It actually made me smile.

Not all of my thoughts are random, however. Indeed, I am currently in talks with God about literary direction. In normal language, that means I'm trying to get His precise direction on writing the book that is swimming around in my head and has been for some time but in so many diverse directions at once I've been more nauseous than creatively productive. Wait, where was I? Oh, yes, direction. So I'm praying and listening and fleshing some things out.

Steve asked me if I was journaling all the jumbled-up-ness. I love that man.

I've always fought structure and form, particularly in writing. I know I will have to face that squarely as I come closer to laying out this book since I will probably need an--shudder--outline. Oh, dear. Just the thought.

Why is it that I love writing poetry in provided forms but hate the thought of outlining an article or essay or (especially) book? I've always loved just seeing where the writing took me. Which is lovely for journals and blog entries but not so great for books that hope to see anyone's shelf but my own.

Outlines me no likey.

Alas, I may have to shake some of the randomness and get down to business with this outlining thing. I'm not quite there yet, though. There are still some things God and I have to work out first. It will come. It has to.

Doesn't it?

The Open Hands of Giving Hearts

There's just something about finding something amazing, something that makes an impact, something that splits your sky and throws open your eyes to beauty and propels you forward in relationship with God, and that something, that desire to share, makes it a natural response to immediately long to pass it along so others can enjoy it, too.

I feel this way about my marriage. I wish every woman in the world could know this kind of love, this level of being cherished, this feeling of knowing beyond a doubt that love is forever and can be trusted. I do know a few women who have love like this in their lives. I wish I knew more. I'd like to believe that as time goes on, I will know more.

I have this same feeling about our family. One of my favorite things in the world is to have someone come to us and say how they want family relationships like ours, want their children to love one another fiercely like ours do, want to have the fun we have and go at life with the same sense of adventure and joy. If we could bottle this, we wouldn't sell it. We would give it away, wherever we are, all the time. I'd like to think that in some way, we do.

I've shared One Thousand Gifts with so many people now I've lost count. Thus far, nearly everyone I've talked to about it has bought the book, and most have made it a point to tell me that it has made a mark in their lives. I shared it again today, and once again, she wrote down title and author with that excited gleam in her eye that I've seen several other times. Yes, she will get it soon, I can tell. And she will never be the same.

When something blesses, you want to share it, pass it on, keep the giving going on and on. I am grateful for grace that keeps my hands and heart open to receiving His good gifts and then allowing them to flutter their wings and catch a breeze to the next stop, another heart just like mine.

Our hearts long for His gifts, like breathing in the sweet scent of honeysuckles in summer. Sharing them is the exhaling of the joy of giving that was knit into us by the Giver of all good and perfect gifts.

To give is to receive joy twice.

Freely you have received; freely give.  Matthew 10:8