Everyone has heard the old question, "What would you take with you if you were going to be stranded on a desert island?" Impractical though it may be, I want my books - preferably all of them. And some pens and paper on which to record all my musings.
Not sensible, I know, but I have a love affair with words that goes a long way back. Right back to when I was four years old and realized that those symbols on the page were the words of my beloved stories. I remember the exact moment when it clicked into place. I was sitting with my Dad in our dining room and he was reading me "Tom and Jerry's Merry Christmas." Like a fuzzy photograph coming into focus, I suddenly knew what he was going to say before he said it, because I could read those words. From that time on, no words were safe from me. I read everything I could get my hands on.
Many weekends would find my family strolling the local mall. Inevitably, Dad and I would end up in a bookstore. It was always a special treat to be allowed to pick out a new book or two. Mom would usually have to tell me, "Put that book down and do your homework." I was the nerdy kid who actually *liked* reading those various classics we were assigned in English class.
In college I discovered that the library was the worst place for me to study - unless I needed to do research all those books were too distracting. And I had to be careful while researching. Many research sessions would find me dabbling in the books on either side of the ones I needed, or investigating other topics that caught my eye.
I have always read voraciously, though my genre preference changes with my mood. My constant favorites are romance, sci-fi/fantasy, and inspirational. I'm also a recovering self-help book addict. Recently I've made forays into mystery (my Mom's favorite) and techno thrillers (one of my husband's favorites). Now that Google is available I also find myself fascinated by all the topics I can research from the comfort of my computer chair.
Somewhere along the line, probably while checking out various career self-help books I read that many voracious readers are actually writers in disguise (don't remember which book, wish I did). That intrigued me greatly. At first I thought to myself, "Pardon me? I think if I were a writer I would know it by now." I certainly did not have any unfinished novels sitting around the house.
I mentally filed away the comment and went about my life. A funny thing has recently happened, however. I am home with just my children most of the day now, and my body is busy with tasks that don't require mental gymnastics. I find all sorts of thoughts, ideas, and musings leaking out of the corners of my mind as I stand and sort laundry or load the dishwasher. Bits and pieces of information are coalescing into a coherent whole. I remember my lifelong habit of journaling, the creative writing assignments I actually liked in school. I remembered my friends' envy of my ability to write my papers the night before they were due and get an A most every time. I thought of the long letters I wrote that were practically novelettes. My favorite way to pray is to write in my prayer journal, and I have always written down my vivid dreams, both good and bad.
I began to reconsider that perhaps I was wrong. Perhaps earlier in my life there were so many things I *had* to write that I had no desire to do more. As an experiment, I bought a really nice blank book to catch some of the musings floating around my head.
The floodgates opened....
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Sunday, April 6, 2008
Destiny Drive
I passed an intriguing road sign on my way home from church this afternoon. It read:
Destiny Drive
Closed
Detour
Normally I only notice what road signs I need to pay attention to as I am usually chatting with my husband and keeping my children from beating each other up in the back seat. But on this rainy, misty Sunday Brian was home nursing a cold and it was just me and my youngest, who was asleep. I began musing over the sign mostly as a way to keep alert. My first thought was who on earth has the job of naming streets in northern Virginia anyway? What do they do, pull them out of a hat? I laughed thinking about the people who would call that street home, telling their friends, "Yeah, we moved to Destiny Drive." "Oh, really? (smirk, smirk)"
But as I pondered further I realized it was an apt metaphor for my Christian walk. There have been more times than I can count where God has slapped a Road Closed or Detour sign right in front of something I though was my destiny. I went to college wanting to be a research biologist - my junior year my advisor left, and I was suddenly without guidance to get practical lab experience - Detour. I was going to start looking for that job in my field right after my summer camp job was done senior year - my mom called the last week of camp saying come home, your father's in the hospital. I stayed home and went into retail instead - Detour. I was pregnant with our first child (living in Pennsylvania) and praying God would send Brian a good paying full time teaching position, and He did - in northern VA - Detour. Three and a half years after that child was born, he was diagnosed with autism - Detour.
Over and over and over again God has reached into my life and abruptly changed the direction I thought I was headed. Some of the changes have brought visible blessings. Brian's job has been wonderful and our son's autism is barely noticeable thanks to the specialized program he has received through our public school. Some of the changes still puzzle me. I never did work in my chosen field. My dad miraculously survived the heart condition that put him in the hospital, but he was never really the same man afterwards, for 12 years, until God took him home.
I finally concluded that "Destiny Drive" is really always closed, once you become a follower of Christ. The world talks about "fulfilling your destiny", or you were "destined" for greatness. But really, it's all God. He's calling the shots, he's pulling the strings. He's given us free will, and a mind to make decisions with, but sometimes He just puts that Road Closed sign up and says "No, you're not going that way - you said you wanted to follow Me, and I'm going this way."
Sometimes when God has sent me on a particularly interesting or difficult detour I think about how C.S. Lewis illustrated it in his book "The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe." The children have just found out that Aslan (the Christ figure) is a lion, not a man.
"Then he isn't safe?" said Lucy.
"Safe?" said Mr. Beaver; "don't you hear what Mrs. Beaver tells you? Who said anything about safe? 'Course he isn't safe. But he's good. He's the King, I tell you."
I pray that the Lord reminds me of that the next time He puts that Detour sign in my path....
Closed
Detour
Normally I only notice what road signs I need to pay attention to as I am usually chatting with my husband and keeping my children from beating each other up in the back seat. But on this rainy, misty Sunday Brian was home nursing a cold and it was just me and my youngest, who was asleep. I began musing over the sign mostly as a way to keep alert. My first thought was who on earth has the job of naming streets in northern Virginia anyway? What do they do, pull them out of a hat? I laughed thinking about the people who would call that street home, telling their friends, "Yeah, we moved to Destiny Drive." "Oh, really? (smirk, smirk)"
But as I pondered further I realized it was an apt metaphor for my Christian walk. There have been more times than I can count where God has slapped a Road Closed or Detour sign right in front of something I though was my destiny. I went to college wanting to be a research biologist - my junior year my advisor left, and I was suddenly without guidance to get practical lab experience - Detour. I was going to start looking for that job in my field right after my summer camp job was done senior year - my mom called the last week of camp saying come home, your father's in the hospital. I stayed home and went into retail instead - Detour. I was pregnant with our first child (living in Pennsylvania) and praying God would send Brian a good paying full time teaching position, and He did - in northern VA - Detour. Three and a half years after that child was born, he was diagnosed with autism - Detour.
Over and over and over again God has reached into my life and abruptly changed the direction I thought I was headed. Some of the changes have brought visible blessings. Brian's job has been wonderful and our son's autism is barely noticeable thanks to the specialized program he has received through our public school. Some of the changes still puzzle me. I never did work in my chosen field. My dad miraculously survived the heart condition that put him in the hospital, but he was never really the same man afterwards, for 12 years, until God took him home.
I finally concluded that "Destiny Drive" is really always closed, once you become a follower of Christ. The world talks about "fulfilling your destiny", or you were "destined" for greatness. But really, it's all God. He's calling the shots, he's pulling the strings. He's given us free will, and a mind to make decisions with, but sometimes He just puts that Road Closed sign up and says "No, you're not going that way - you said you wanted to follow Me, and I'm going this way."
Sometimes when God has sent me on a particularly interesting or difficult detour I think about how C.S. Lewis illustrated it in his book "The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe." The children have just found out that Aslan (the Christ figure) is a lion, not a man.
"Then he isn't safe?" said Lucy.
"Safe?" said Mr. Beaver; "don't you hear what Mrs. Beaver tells you? Who said anything about safe? 'Course he isn't safe. But he's good. He's the King, I tell you."
I pray that the Lord reminds me of that the next time He puts that Detour sign in my path....
Friday, April 4, 2008
Personal musings after the VTech tragedy
I wrote this shortly after the Virginia Tech shootings because my thoughts would not let me go. Anyone who knows me well knows that I tend to think a lot - worry at a problem like a dog with a bone. Many times I find if I write these thoughts down I'll be allowed to have my brain back. One caveat - this is not a treatise on the problem of evil, a rant for justice, or a memorial to those lost. Much has already been written along those lines, by people more qualified than I. But several close friends were directly affected by the tragedy, and it is in honor of them I share this - one seeker to another....
from April 24, 2007
Great tragedies bring clarity of mind in a way nothing else does. Reeling from the shock of learning that a Virginia Tech student had just shot 32 people and himself dead, I was almost flattened to see the video footage the killer had made just prior to committing his heinous crime.
Since I couldn't seem to stop thinking about it, I began to analyze why I could not let it go. I realized that what had me so on edge was the fact that this one event is all anyone will remember of this young man's life. All of his other actions, accomplishments, and accolades are now null and void. He will only be remembered as a killer. We heard his voice and saw evil personified. How sad. And how sad that the heroic and self-sacrificing voices of possibly millions of ordinary people every day go unheard, un-lauded, unknown.
That was the day I realized God has given us a priceless, precious gift. He has given us a Voice. Each Voice is precious to God and to our world. Perhaps if more people in that young man's life had used a voice of love, of caring, of friendship, there would still be 32 innocent souls going about their lives. Most of us will have to content ourselves to live our lives in obscurity. A few may get their 15 minutes of fame. In the grand, sweeping vista of history, few achieve lasting fame or even infamy.
But on that day, April 16, 2007 - another day which will live in infamy, I decided I will make my Voice heard. The Bible says that a word aptly spoken is like apples of gold in settings of silver. I finally understand, I must share this with the world.
----------------------------------------------------------
a postscript: The above musings and the encouragement of friends convinced me to start this blog. God had been whispering in my ear for some years about the possibility of me turning my thoughts to writing. I had been resisting these nudges for some time (yeah, Moses and I have a lot in common). That day I really felt God giving me a wake up call. Someone wise once said that inside each of us is our own unique song. It is not up to us to decide whether our song is good, but simply to sing it, else our music is lost for eternity. May my words be my song....
from April 24, 2007
Great tragedies bring clarity of mind in a way nothing else does. Reeling from the shock of learning that a Virginia Tech student had just shot 32 people and himself dead, I was almost flattened to see the video footage the killer had made just prior to committing his heinous crime.
Since I couldn't seem to stop thinking about it, I began to analyze why I could not let it go. I realized that what had me so on edge was the fact that this one event is all anyone will remember of this young man's life. All of his other actions, accomplishments, and accolades are now null and void. He will only be remembered as a killer. We heard his voice and saw evil personified. How sad. And how sad that the heroic and self-sacrificing voices of possibly millions of ordinary people every day go unheard, un-lauded, unknown.
That was the day I realized God has given us a priceless, precious gift. He has given us a Voice. Each Voice is precious to God and to our world. Perhaps if more people in that young man's life had used a voice of love, of caring, of friendship, there would still be 32 innocent souls going about their lives. Most of us will have to content ourselves to live our lives in obscurity. A few may get their 15 minutes of fame. In the grand, sweeping vista of history, few achieve lasting fame or even infamy.
But on that day, April 16, 2007 - another day which will live in infamy, I decided I will make my Voice heard. The Bible says that a word aptly spoken is like apples of gold in settings of silver. I finally understand, I must share this with the world.
----------------------------------------------------------
a postscript: The above musings and the encouragement of friends convinced me to start this blog. God had been whispering in my ear for some years about the possibility of me turning my thoughts to writing. I had been resisting these nudges for some time (yeah, Moses and I have a lot in common). That day I really felt God giving me a wake up call. Someone wise once said that inside each of us is our own unique song. It is not up to us to decide whether our song is good, but simply to sing it, else our music is lost for eternity. May my words be my song....
Thursday, April 3, 2008
Do kittens have belly buttons?
I am coming to the conclusion that young children are God's way of both keeping us on our toes, and reminding us we don't know everything. Anyone who doesn't think God has (a sometimes ironic) sense of humor has never been a parent of young children.
This morning, about halfway through my first cup of coffee, my daughter Charlotte (almost 5 going on 15) looks right at me and asks, "Mommy, do kittens have belly buttons?" I simply stopped mid-swallow and stared at her. Where on earth do these questions come from? Does God just drop them in our kids' brains to see if we're paying attention?
Now, I like to think I'm a reasonably intelligent adult, above average, even - I majored in Psychobiology in college and graduated magna cum laude. And I haven't the foggiest clue whether or not kittens have belly buttons. All the biology courses I took and I'm stumped. (Incidentally, the kitten obsession took hold when a friend's cat had 6 kittens - every day she manages to sneak in the "mommy can I have a kitten" question).
So, I Google "cat, belly button" wondering what on earth my husband will think if he ever checks the online history. Those Google guys deserve their millions - how did I live without it?
Turns out my daughter was not the first to ask, and it's not as silly as it sounds to wonder. I learned that all mammals have a belly button (or umbilicus, to get technical) because all mammals grow in utero attached to an umbilical cord. A cat's belly button is in pretty much the spot you'd expect to find it, but it looks more like a line instead of round. Since it's also covered in fur it's somewhat hard to see.
I told my daughter this, she was pleased and happy to have the right answer and went on about her business. In a way, it's comforting to know that my daughter follows in my footsteps as a "seeker." Sometimes if you listen hard enough, you can almost hear God's laughter....
This morning, about halfway through my first cup of coffee, my daughter Charlotte (almost 5 going on 15) looks right at me and asks, "Mommy, do kittens have belly buttons?" I simply stopped mid-swallow and stared at her. Where on earth do these questions come from? Does God just drop them in our kids' brains to see if we're paying attention?
Now, I like to think I'm a reasonably intelligent adult, above average, even - I majored in Psychobiology in college and graduated magna cum laude. And I haven't the foggiest clue whether or not kittens have belly buttons. All the biology courses I took and I'm stumped. (Incidentally, the kitten obsession took hold when a friend's cat had 6 kittens - every day she manages to sneak in the "mommy can I have a kitten" question).
So, I Google "cat, belly button" wondering what on earth my husband will think if he ever checks the online history. Those Google guys deserve their millions - how did I live without it?
Turns out my daughter was not the first to ask, and it's not as silly as it sounds to wonder. I learned that all mammals have a belly button (or umbilicus, to get technical) because all mammals grow in utero attached to an umbilical cord. A cat's belly button is in pretty much the spot you'd expect to find it, but it looks more like a line instead of round. Since it's also covered in fur it's somewhat hard to see.
I told my daughter this, she was pleased and happy to have the right answer and went on about her business. In a way, it's comforting to know that my daughter follows in my footsteps as a "seeker." Sometimes if you listen hard enough, you can almost hear God's laughter....
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
So who is Seeker?
Well, in a word....me. Seeker is the name of my Christian clown personality. I am Seeker. I am also *a* seeker, or a "quester" (as in, one who goes on a quest for knowledge). This concept has been rattling around in my brain for some time now, since shortly after college. Let me fill you in from the beginning....
My sophomore year in college, I joined the campus clown troupe. In the process of creating our clown's character, we were told that we should envision his or her personality as a whole. We could start with physical characteristics (big feet, red nose, funny hair) a particular personality trait (outgoing, shy) but whatever we chose for our "signature" trait, we should also have in mind the whole persona of that individual clown. Our troupe leader suggested that we should look within ourselves and either pull out one of our own traits we liked, and magnify it; conversely, we could choose a totally opposite trait, one we would like to have, and make it our own in the personality of our clown.
My first clown personality was "Blossom" -partly because it suited where I was in my own personal journey (I was a painfully shy teenager who "blossomed" and came into her own in college) and partly because of the adorable costume elements I picked up at the local antique clothing store. Blossom was sweet and shy, kindly mischievous and loving - her outfit trimmed with flowers. She fitted me and I her - she was the best of me, my "highest self" at the time. I enjoyed being Blossom the Clown all through college and my summer camp jobs.
For a while after college I didn't have any opportunities to use my clowning skills - my busy retail job and long-distance relationship with my boyfriend (now husband) took all my time. The first church that Brian and I attended as a married couple didn't really "get" what Christian clowning was (on their way to becoming a mega-church at the time, they had bigger fish to fry). But then we started attending a small Episcopal church, one where we weren't lost in the crowd. They welcomed creative expressions of the faith, and needed some creative elements for a particular service. So I put my creative hat back on and wrote out a skit that suited the Scripture reference I was given.
But when I envisioned my character performing the skit, I kept coming up against a mental block. After a period of soul searching, I realized I had outgrown my beloved clown's personality. I could not see Blossom performing that skit. I had changed and grown, and therefore I needed a clown persona that suited me as I was now, not how I was 7 years previous.
Back to the drawing board I went to figure out what my new clown personality should be. Myriad names, images, character traits came to mind as I thought about all my friends' clown personas. They were all great ideas, but none of them suited me. For several weeks I went at this the wrong way around, trying to think of the perfect clown traits to slip on over my personality. I searched and searched - searched the Scriptures, searched within my own soul. I became the search. I was The Searcher. Hmmm.....
"Searcher" was what I had become, but it wasn't quite right for my clown name. Then one fine day, at last - an epiphany! My mind's thesaurus finally hit on the right synonym - Seeker. I would become Seeker. It fit.
Funny thing is - it still fits. As I have grown in my journey as a Christ follower, I have come to realize that my new clown name was much more profound than I could ever have known at the time. What I thought was merely a new character for my Christian clowning endeavors has been revealed as truly my essence.
I seek out knowledge, I seek answers to life's questions, I seek the face of Christ. I seek therefore I am (forgive me, Descartes).
I am Seeker and Seeker is me.
My sophomore year in college, I joined the campus clown troupe. In the process of creating our clown's character, we were told that we should envision his or her personality as a whole. We could start with physical characteristics (big feet, red nose, funny hair) a particular personality trait (outgoing, shy) but whatever we chose for our "signature" trait, we should also have in mind the whole persona of that individual clown. Our troupe leader suggested that we should look within ourselves and either pull out one of our own traits we liked, and magnify it; conversely, we could choose a totally opposite trait, one we would like to have, and make it our own in the personality of our clown.
My first clown personality was "Blossom" -partly because it suited where I was in my own personal journey (I was a painfully shy teenager who "blossomed" and came into her own in college) and partly because of the adorable costume elements I picked up at the local antique clothing store. Blossom was sweet and shy, kindly mischievous and loving - her outfit trimmed with flowers. She fitted me and I her - she was the best of me, my "highest self" at the time. I enjoyed being Blossom the Clown all through college and my summer camp jobs.
For a while after college I didn't have any opportunities to use my clowning skills - my busy retail job and long-distance relationship with my boyfriend (now husband) took all my time. The first church that Brian and I attended as a married couple didn't really "get" what Christian clowning was (on their way to becoming a mega-church at the time, they had bigger fish to fry). But then we started attending a small Episcopal church, one where we weren't lost in the crowd. They welcomed creative expressions of the faith, and needed some creative elements for a particular service. So I put my creative hat back on and wrote out a skit that suited the Scripture reference I was given.
But when I envisioned my character performing the skit, I kept coming up against a mental block. After a period of soul searching, I realized I had outgrown my beloved clown's personality. I could not see Blossom performing that skit. I had changed and grown, and therefore I needed a clown persona that suited me as I was now, not how I was 7 years previous.
Back to the drawing board I went to figure out what my new clown personality should be. Myriad names, images, character traits came to mind as I thought about all my friends' clown personas. They were all great ideas, but none of them suited me. For several weeks I went at this the wrong way around, trying to think of the perfect clown traits to slip on over my personality. I searched and searched - searched the Scriptures, searched within my own soul. I became the search. I was The Searcher. Hmmm.....
"Searcher" was what I had become, but it wasn't quite right for my clown name. Then one fine day, at last - an epiphany! My mind's thesaurus finally hit on the right synonym - Seeker. I would become Seeker. It fit.
Funny thing is - it still fits. As I have grown in my journey as a Christ follower, I have come to realize that my new clown name was much more profound than I could ever have known at the time. What I thought was merely a new character for my Christian clowning endeavors has been revealed as truly my essence.
I seek out knowledge, I seek answers to life's questions, I seek the face of Christ. I seek therefore I am (forgive me, Descartes).
I am Seeker and Seeker is me.
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