the beauty and power of what you said

September 17, 2012

perspective

“It is a universal truth that no matter how well one knows a scene, to observe it from above is something of a revelation. I stood by the railings and peered over, beyond the tree. The library — usually so vast and imposing — took on the appearance of a stage set. Ordinary items — the Steinway & Sons grand piano, the oak writing desk, Lord Ashbury’s globe — were suddenly rendered smaller, ersatz versions of themselves, and gave the impression of having been arranged to suit a cast of players, yet to make its entrance.”

Grace Bradley, (in The House at Riverton by Kate Morton)

Writing a letter to yourself is a little like observing your life from above. Nearly 250 of you wrote letters last week, climbed up on the ladder and looked back on your past, seeing it differently than you did when you were living down low inside it.

You told her to be brave.

You told him to write down everything he remembers about his Dad.

You told her to carry deodorant in her purse

You whispered  that her mom will become her best friend.

You encouraged her not to hide behind other people’s words, write some of her own, and then go join the party.

You said to listen to that quiet girl on the bus.

You urged him to raise his hand even if he isn’t certain of the answer.

You promised that over time, people will tell her that her name is beautiful.

You told her to go ahead and take that chip off her shoulder.

You taught her about the shape of her curves and the shape of her soul.

You warned her never to let mom dye her hair.

I am learning so much from your words, the tenderness with which you speak them, the perspective you have to offer the younger generation. If you haven’t written a letter yet and linked it up, there is still time. I’ll leave the linky open through the rest of the week.

11 Comments · Filed Under: courage, Graceful

what I read during hurricane season

August 28, 2012

The first hurricane I remember knowing about was Hurricane Hugo in 1989. We had only lived in South Carolina a short time and the idea of hurricanes was a new one to this Indiana girl. Watching the news and seeing the projected track, I remember being terrified.

Mom assured me that we lived in the place where people came to take cover. We had no need to be concerned.

She was right.

I don’t know anything about living through a hurricane except what I read and see on TV. But when a hurricane hits the Gulf Coast, I read Megan at Velveteen Mind. She and her family lost everything in Hurricane Katrina exactly seven years ago.

You should probably just go read her now. She writes with courage and explains the storm surge, something I hadn’t thought much about before her post.

As Hurricane Isaac makes landfall, you who live in the Gulf Coast are on our minds and in our prayers. Truly.

8 Comments · Filed Under: courage

one question Jesus asks a lot

August 9, 2012

August is back again with her feather duster and her intentions to ready the house for the months to come. July still hangs around in the backyard with his hat pulled down low over lazy eyes, drink in hand, feet never seeing the inside of a shoe. But August is in the house now and she hasn’t stopped moving. She writes lists, makes plans, kneads bread.

August whispers things to come: trees changing, a book release, his first day of kindergarten. It will be a full fall, there’s not doubt about that. But we still have August and that means summer hasn’t left us yet. There is still time to consider what we most want this year to look like, what our longings are for our family, our friendships, our work.

Jesus asked a lot of questions to people he encountered. What do you want me to do for you? and What is it you seek? He knew the answers, but it seems he knew something they didn’t know about the importance of people getting in touch with their deepest desires. August is a nice time to consider those things we long for, no matter what they might be. Not because we will get them or even because they are necessary. But maybe we can learn something of ourselves when we are honest with ourselves before God.

We’re asking the question over at (in)courage today: What Are You Longing For?

· Filed Under: (in)courage, courage

what happens when God stands on a diving board

June 27, 2012

My childhood lives on a small plot of land in the block between Gladstone Avenue and Meridian Street. Our house sits on her foundation there and smells of lemon, bacon, and a rainy day. Two bedrooms and one bath seems perfectly fine to me and our family of four will live in this little white house with the gravel drive for eleven years. I want to tell you about it, about the joys and the fears and how it all comes back around. I’m a little nervous and a lot thankful to be telling the story at Ann’s place today. Join me at A Holy Experience?

 

5 Comments · Filed Under: courage, grace

three truths to remember when envy tries to keep you quiet

June 20, 2012

When I walk, I leave everything behind. I used to take my camera with me, but now it only keeps me distracted. I wear a watch (remember those?) so I don’t have to bring my phone.

I’m learning how to walk like a believer, how to look ahead on the path rather than just at my feet. How to stop and touch the bark on that funny looking tree. How to see.

I found a leaf as big as my face, plucked it off the branch and brought it home to show the kids. They were delighted because I was. We teach them how to see, too.

Yesterday as I was perusing through my archives (I love doing that now. So easy!) I clicked on courage. Courage wasn’t a category on my blog until last week. But as I sat out to file away these words from the past six years, I began to notice some themes.

courage - chatting at the sky

I found a post I wrote last year called “Why is it so Hard to Call Yourself a Writer?” I linked up to it on Twitter because I’ve been thinking a lot about this, especially since Jeff Goins’ You Are a Writer ebook released.

It was confirming to read something I wrote and know Jeff is saying it, too.

But there was a time when that was terrifying. There was a time when I would read the inspiring words other people wrote and I would get a hole in my stomach. That hole was a drain where inspiration and courage swirled around like dirty water, faster and faster until they disappeared forever, leaving me alone and  dejected in a land where I am a loser with nothing to say.

When you have a message and you pack words around that message like clay on a wheel and someone else shows up with a finished pot? It can feel like dying a little bit. Every artist knows this. It’s why people stop making art.

What do you do when someone else is saying what you want to say and saying it better?

1 . Your goal is not to make something new, your goal is to reimagine what already is.

Our imaginations are endless. You get to frame things in a way only you can, with a voice only you have. Sure, we may be framing the same thing, but we’ll do it differently. This takes the pressure off. I could write a whole thing on that, but Austin Kleon already did. Of course. Lifestyle photographer Kelly Sauer wrote about this recently too: I’m Not Orignal. Now What?

2. We live in a world of abundance, not scarcity.

I didn’t feel badly about pulling that leaf from the branch. The tree was full of them. There is enough to go around. There really is. Just because he is saying something you think you should say doesn’t mean you shouldn’t. If they do it, join them. If she says it, support her. They are not the enemy. If they are saying it too, all that means is that you’re on to something. This is a good thing. Use it.

3. We need you awake and alive.

Does the world need another book? Song? Painted living room? Not necessarily. But does the world need you to come alive? Absolutely. If writing books and songs and painting living rooms is what makes you come alive, then that’s what you’ll need to do. Maybe if we shift the focus from our work, our art and our insecurities, we will see a world to rub shoulders with, a world ready to receive what we have to offer.

 What do you do when someone else is doing the thing you want to be doing?

65 Comments · Filed Under: art, courage, vocation, writing

the number one thing that is getting in your way

May 17, 2012

You have that thing you want to do, but all you have to do it on is a cardboard box. You could point to the box and say, Hey, that’s a box. I can’t do a thing with that. And throw the box away. And wait for something right and proper like paper to show up in your hands. Or. You could pull out a glass filled with color and get to work. I don’t know what your cardboard box is. I don’t know how big, ugly or impossible it seems to you. But I do know you have one. So what will you do with it?

26 Comments · Filed Under: art, courage

when hope is scary

May 4, 2012

“I hope you accept confusion, questions, crooked lines, fatigue, fog, loneliness, darkness, rejection, and low self-esteem as part of the journey of hope. These things come and go and have nothing to do with hope; they only have to do with how you feel about hope.”

Gary Morland, Scary Hope

Hope and fear are playing in a constant game of tug-of-war. And all of us live somewhere on the rope. It’s tempting to think that the closer we get to the hope side, the less we’ll be afraid. But everyone knows that when one side starts to win in tug-of-war, the other side just pulls harder. For those of us willing to see, life is never just one thing.

In the winter of 1998 when I met The Man in the seminary cafeteria, hope showed up as the tiniest speck of light. And so the fear stayed equally small. Love wasn’t a threat yet, just an idea.

One year later, in the winter of 1999, love threatened to overwhelm me with dreams and desire and longing. Because now, the guy from the cafeteria was a man I thought I could be with forever. Hope showed up as a brilliant morning sunrise over a sparkling, mirror sea.

But hope didn’t show up alone, because this is war. Fear of rejection, exposure, and change hovered just over my shoulder while I wondered about this man who would later become my husband. Unlike the year before, now love was more than just a possibility. Now, love was a full-out, all-in reality. Hope was bright. And so in turn, fear was heavy. Because now there was much to lose.

Real hope doesn’t show up without real fear. Most of the time, hope is scary.

My dad wrote a short-ish ebook called Scary Hope: Courage and a kick to hug hope, face fear, and get going. I talked about it a while back when it was available as a PDF. Now, Scary Hope has been formatted for Kindle so for 99 cents, you can start reading today. Hope has never been so cheap!

We are made to live life fully awake, to know God and be known by him, to reach down deep into the desires he placed within us and pull out by the handful. But what if that’s selfish? What if I don’t know my desire? What if I wreck it all up? Dad has asked all of those questions and a ton more, has carried hope around his pocket for years because the fear of reaching for it was too intimidating.

But he’s pulling out the hope now. He’s holding it in his hands and putting it down on paper so you can hold it too. The fear is real, but so is the hope. It might be just the word you need to get going.

His Amazon bio may be the best author bio I’ve ever read. Here’s a peek:

“I don’t have any awards, official credentials, or special qualifications. I can be proud or defensive of that, depending on the day. But overall it’s kind of nice being an unschooled, ordinary guy. I’ve always liked the people who follow their passion and make a dent without credentials or permission from the authorities.”

That’s about half of the bio – go to his author page to read the rest. If you download the book (for 99 cents!) you can read it in one sitting, or about an hour.

If you have already read Scary Hope (or if you download it today and read it sometime this weekend) and would be willing to write an honest review on Amazon, let me know you did so in the comments. As a thank you, I’d love to pick five reviewers at random and send you a signed copy of my own book. I’ll list the winners here on Monday, May 7.

 

30 Comments · Filed Under: art, courage, faith

we don’t want your loveless art

March 22, 2012

Sometimes other people’s art – their plays, their food, their books, their beautifully inspired work – walks next to me like a comfortable friend. I am open to his influence, small in her presence, and happy to be so. When I am free and in good places, I trust her art and look to her to learn more of myself.

But there are those other times when their plays, their food, their books, and all that beautifully inspired work stands heavy on my chest. And just when I find a way to breathe shallow under the weight of it, when I squeeze out an extra hour of work, when I think I’ve got a crazy wide-eyed plan to catch up, they start to jump on my rib cage with all their successes.

Instead of a friend, their art becomes the enemy and I’m certain their good work guarantees I will never work again. The more I think of how much they are shipping and launching and producing and unveiling, the less I’m able to breathe.

When the art others make begins to terrify rather than motivate, it means you are normal. But if you want to create art that matters, something has to change. And the number one thing that works for me is to stop.

The art has become too important.

It seems counter-intuitive to stop just when you’ve convinced yourself you are already so very far behind. But stopping is really the only answer, because to carry on is to become a maniac work-aholic. To carry on is to worship the art rather than the Artist with a capital A. To carry on is to be pushed around by fear.

Fear drives out the love. When you work from fear, there is no love in your work. And we don’t want your loveless art.

So give the world and yourself a gift, and stop.

You are the beloved. So take some time to be the loved.

The fact that you need time to be the loved means you are human. And we want art that comes from human hands inspired by a capable God. Otherwise you will make mediocre art at best. If mediocre art is your goal, you can most definitely achieve it. Along with maybe a heart attack.

Here are 14 ways to make mediocre art – I wrote these last year but they came to mind again yesterday and I thought they were worth repeating. Be the loved, friend. It really is the most important thing.

57 Comments · Filed Under: art, courage

what to do with crazy ideas

February 13, 2012

“To me this award means a lot because it shows that the human element of making music is what’s most important. It’s not about being perfect, it’s not about sounding absolutely correct, it’s not about what goes on in the computer. It’s about what goes on in [your head] and what goes on in [your heart].”

- Dave Grohl, after Foo Fighters won a Grammy for Best Rock Performance

Well, that’s easy to say while you’re holding a Grammy. Still, he’s right. With the exception of Adele, nobody performed perfectly at the Grammys last night. Perfect wasn’t what got them there. But there they were, in all their imperfect glory, at the Grammys. Performing. I watched the red carpet pre-show, too. (I have a cold. The Man took the kids to dinner. I was alone and in control of the remote). On the red carpet, an interviewer asked someone (The Civil Wars maybe? The faces are fuzzy. Gracious, I could never be a journalist) what their secret is. Their answer? We just keep chasing our craziest ideas.

Crazy ideas don’t always mean a ticket to the Grammys. But maybe tickets to the Grammys only come to those who first chased a crazy idea. Same goes for the Oscar winner, the moon-walker, the airplane-flier, the actor president, the single mom with a little book about a boy wizard named Harry. And then there was the pregnant virgin, the shepherd king, the baby Savior, the clear water turning merlot red while the guests laughed and danced into the night.

And then there is you. What is your moon, your airplane, your boy-wizard book? What is your brave lyric, your odd first chapter, your new business motto? What is your crazy idea? No, not your perfect idea. Not your logical, well-planned, power-pointed practical idea. There’s a place for those, too. But lots of times the most logical ideas start out crazy. What is your crazy idea and what should you do with it?

Maybe you should chase it.

69 Comments · Filed Under: art, courage

for when you’re not cut out for this

February 1, 2012

I hang up the phone and see I’m still shaking. That did not go well. More radio interviews line up every Monday in February. I’m not cut out for this. I try to distract myself with email and the laundry, but I can’t ignore my shaking hands and the sweat under my armpits, turning my pink shirt darker pink. Finally I sit, and try to reason it away. You’ve done countless interviews by now, why do you still get so nervous?

But I do and I wish I could talk myself out of it. The interview has been over for a full 15 minutes and I consider this blessed life I’m so thankful for but didn’t quite plan on, exactly. There’s no such thing as just a writer. You need to be a communicator in all aspects of the word – writing, speaking, sweat-less interviews. It makes me dizzy sometimes.

I’m not cut out for this. And even as I say it, as I say it, I hear the Lord whisper, No, you are not cut out. You have been placed in. He really said that, sure as the way I stumbled and uh’d my way through that interview. He reminded me I have been placed into Him. No, not cut out.

I am connected, sure, safe. If I’m looking to be cut out for something, confident on my own terms, standing on my own platform, unwilling to die? Life can be scary and tasks, daunting. God takes great delight in finding us in places where we don’t feel cut out to succeed. And that is where he sends his invitation of remembrance – that shaky, sweaty mess is a reminder that I am desperate to depend on a source other than myself. Success takes on a different shape there. It looks a lot like rest and feels a lot like freedom.

Have you found yourself in a role you don’t feel cut out for lately?

64 Comments · Filed Under: courage, imperfection, writing
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