Creative Writing - A personal testimony

Teaching Creative Writing is one of my current joys. My class is small but enthusiastic. As we work through the fundamentals of the craft of writing, the basics to the art of writing, and the requirements of the business of writing, I am also becoming more enthused about this occupation which I love.

Writing is good therapy. In the research, in the lesson building, and in my own writing, I am seeing and learning so much about myself. Lessons which extend to understanding my past, the people who make up and have made up my world, and also to seeing the things which I have done wrong and right in all those areas. God is really using this love to reach me and teach me.

Through the painful years, I was in the habit of building myself up, and building up the stories and situations that I shared. The reason for this was that I always felt so insignificant and unlovable, that I felt I had to create myself into a package that others would want to have around, or would want to care about. My personal testimony was a wondrous work of creative writing.

Since this creative process began when I was very young, through the years, I have lived in this fictional world so much, that at times, I find it hard to sort out reality from the things which I have created.

When becoming a Christian, one of the things I prayed for most fervently, was that God would help me to sort it all out. I wanted to be wholly honest. For the most part, He has honoured my hard work and heartfelt plea. Still, there are times when I catch myself embellishing something to make myself look better or to build myself up into what I feel is a more attractive package.

The big difference is that almost as soon as the words are out of my mouth, He convicts me. Immediately, I have the opportunity to repent and beg forgiveness. Each time, I renew my resolve to work harder at being REAL.

There are still those people in my life who just can not see the good in me. They do nothing but tear me down and make me feel unwanted, unloved and inadequate. They don't, however, cause me to go against my steadfast resolve to be truly, and honestly myself. They only cause me to look at myself a little harder, and in doing this, I, once again, come to the realization that I am a pretty nice person. While I may not have it all together, I do have so much to offer, so much creative ability, and so much passion for God's work in this hurting world.

If those others can't or won't see me for who I am now, instead of holding to the image of who I was all those broken years ago, I have no control over that. What I am called to do is to love them, regardless of whether they love me back or not. I am not supposed to judge them, as God will be my defender. And, (and this is a big "and") I am supposed to pray good things for them. I must admit, I really fall short on the praying thing. That is another subject that I need to work on.

Doing a personal inventory, once a month or so, keeps me on track. I have a list of things that I don't like about myself, things that I do like, areas where I feel that I have let God down, and areas where I feel that I have won a victory. Then there are things that I long to achieve as I serve Him, and things that I desire in my personal life (like mending my marriage and to have my husband, sons and siblings be saved). And last but not least, there is an ever growing list of recognized blessings.

It is very hard to be 100% honest, and there are times when guarding ones tongue takes precedence over lying to please others. Still, I know that if can't be honest with God, if I can't be honest with myself, and with those around me. He has provided a occupation for my active imagination in the field of creative writing. Another grace He so richly blesses me with. So, keeping fact from fiction is getting easier and easier. When there is a fictional need that longs to be filled, I put it in my writing. My characters can be all those things that I have longed to be and that I have longed my life to be. I can live those things through them, and leave the real world to those of us who are breathing.
All of the pain, hurt, anger, and resentment emotions can also be dealt with in this medium. My characters work through those emotions giving me a healthy way to work through them, myself. In my writing world, my characters can have resolutions to life issues that I was so powerlessly entrapped in. I can deal with the past in a very healthy way--pouring my soul on the page. I know that my writing will help someone else know that they are not alone. That someone, somewhere understand how they are feeling. Also, that as I have grown past and through these things, so can they.

One of the helps in this growing process has been working through Dr. David Jeremiah's "Facing the Giants In Your Life" study. It helped me deal with those giant issues that were destroying me such as: fear, loneliness, guilt, discouragement, worry, temptation, anger, doubt, failure, resentment, jealousy, and procrastination. That last one was a biggie. Because of my fear of failure, I would procrastinate. Unfortunately what happened was that I was letting people down. I had become undependable and the poor opinion that went along with that hurt and re-enforced my feelings of inadequacy.

First, I had to learn how to recognize the giants in my life. Then I had to learn how they effected me. When I had my eyes wide open and was being honest about these issues, then it was time to learn how to concour them.

What are the giants in your life? What area are you practising creative writing in? Remember, you can't create a character that will please God more than the one you already are. He loves you, just like that. Besides, He is all knowing, so who do you think you are fooling?

Life is not a paperback novel. There are no rewrites. So, be as honest about yourself and your life, as you can. Once you get honest, life fills up with joy unimaginable.

God loves you--just the way you are; and so do I!
Be blessed, Jude

Characters

This has been a busy August. The farm work, of course, is always busy, but I have added some personal busy-ness to the mix.

For the last few weeks, I have been going to the pool to do aquasizes three times a week, Doing Tai Chi two times a week, and going to choir practise, once a week--with another choir soon to be added, making it choir two times a week. As if that wasn't enough social activity, I am now teaching an adult writing class every Monday evening.

For the next couple of weeks, we will be concentrating on Characters. In putting my lessons together, I have gone back to my college textbooks and read the "character" sections through with less speed, and more attention to detail, than I was able to in the fast-pace courses. What I have been discovering, is that as I read, I am realizing just which personality attributes describe me. Hmmmm, I didn't think I was taking a phsycology course, but my research is proving to be a bit like that.

When developing characters for our fiction, we must know an awful lot about the different types of people to be able to write them in a realistic and believable fashion. Who would have thought that while I was reading what each personality type entailed, I would be seeing the good and bad in myself, along the journey.

As usual, God has used something I love to do to teach me what He needs me to see. He is so patient and understands my every need. Those words have taken on a different meaning, than when I first heard them. I use to think that "understands my every need" meant that He knew what I needed to physically survive. Now, I realize, that it actually means so much more than that. He understands, better than I am capable of, what I need to learn, grow, and move into a Jude that is much closer to His image than I alone am capable of becoming.

The 8 main types of characters are: main, protagonist, hero, antagonist, obstacle, logic, emotion, and sidekick. In my relationships with my siblings, and others, I can really see which parts of my personality falls in which category, depending on who I am with.

This brings me to the point. I have always thought that each of us was one personality type. Now, I am beginning to understand that we are all 8 of them, at any given moment. Each of us takes on the attributes of the types of characters, depending on the need of the moment, and of the relationship.

To explain: With one of my sisters, I take on logic, while she is more emotional--this role changes back and forth between the two of us. Sometimes, I am the emotional one and need her to be the logical one. With another, I am more emotional, while she is antagonist--No matter how I try, or what I do, this sister does everything in her power to hurt, undermine and prevent me from being completely happy. Still another sister has me in the role of sidekick to her protagonist--She is a very organized and capable person and around her I am usually the encourager and supporter for her in her choices and activities.

It has been quite a research journey. One that, I am sure, will make the characters that I develope become all that more believable.

Now, I wonder, what kind of character are you? How does your character change places when in the company of different people?

One more week of characters, then on to grammar--the boring stuff. On these lessons I will be challenged to make it all fun and fresh.

Have a great week. Know that God loves you, and so do I.
Jude

Croc Hunter

When we watch the news and hear of someone who has become so familiar to us, dying, it never rings true. What then happens is that we listen to the news at every opportunity for the next couple of days. Each time we hear those same words, it sinks in a little bit more. It is true. This person who has brought us so much enjoyment, taught us so much, and thrilled us with his antics is, indeed, dead.

Then you get to the place where you believe it, are shocked and dismayed by it, and don't really want to hear anyone say it again...but it goes on. For days and days, it is mentioned in the news and almost every conversation. Until, finally, you reach the point where you want to move past it and get on to the next thing. That is, unless you are one of those close people, who's life is now forever altered because of the loss. For them, every time they hear those words, it will be another stab to their hearts. As time passes, the stabbing will become less painful, but it will always be there.

It is to them, that I send my heartfelt regrets for this having occured. It is their loss that I recognize. To them, I leave this wonderful, love-filled poem that came to me over this device, today:

The Crocs are Crying

Endless visions fill my head -- this man as large as life
And instantly my heart mourns for his angels and his wife
Because the way I see Steve Irwin - just put everything aside
It comes back to his family - it comes back to his pride

His animals inclusive - Crikey - light the place with love!
Shine his star with everything he fought to rise above
The crazy-man of Khaki from the day he left the pouch
Living out his dream and in that classic `Stevo' crouch

Exploding forth with character and redefining cheek
It's one thing to be honoured as a champion unique
It's one thing to have microphones and spotlight cameras shoved
It's another to be taken in and genuinely loved

But that was where he had it right - I guess he always knew
From his fathers' modest reptile park and then Australia Zoo
We cringed at times and shook our heads - but true to natures call
There was something very Irwin in the make up of us all

Yes the more I care to think of it - the more he had it right
If you're going to make a difference - make it big and make it
bright!
Yes - he was a lunatic! Yes - he went head first!
But he made the world feel happy with his energetic burst

A world so large and loyal that it's hard to comprehend
I doubt we truly count the warmth until life meets an end
To count it now I say a prayer with words of inspiration
May the spotlight shine forever on his dream for conservation

.My daughter broke the news to me - my six year old in tears
It was like she'd just turned old enough to show her honest fears
I tried to make some sense of it but whilst her Dad was trying
His little girl explained it best.she said "The crocodiles are
crying"

Their best mate's up in heaven now - the crocs up there are smiling!
And as sure as flowers, poems and cards and memories are piling
As sure as we'll continue with the trademarks of his spiel
Of all the tributes worthy - he was rough.but he was real

As sure as `Crikey!' fills the sky
I think we'll miss ya Steve.goodbye

RUPERT McCALL 2006

Some Days Are Diamonds (Some Days Are Stone)

When You asked how I've been here without you
I'd like to say I've been fine and I do.
But we both know the truth is hard to come by
And if I told the truth that's not quite true

Some days are diamonds some days are stones
Sometimes the hard times won't leave me alone
Sometimes a cold wind blows a chill in my bones
Some days are diamonds some days are stones.

Now the face that I see in my mirror
More and more is a stranger to me
More and more I can see there's a danger
In becoming what I never thought I'd be

Some days are diamonds some days are stones
Sometimes the hard times won't leave me alone
Sometimes a cold wind blows a chill in my bones
Some days are diamonds some days are stones.

Some days are diamonds some days are stones
Sometimes the hard times won't leave me alone
Sometimes a cold wind blows a chill in my bones
Some days are diamonds some days are stones.

Some days are diamonds; some days are stone. Seems like the bad times won't leave me alone. la la la John Denver sure could write a song. None of his touched my heart as this one did, though.

As I listen to my wonderful ipod(yes, that's right. I am one techno mamma), I am transported back to a painful time in my life. The songs, well, they are mostly from MY era, the 50's '60's, a few that were goldies in those days, and a few that are more up to date. When I heard the Diamonds and Stone song for the first time, I so remember how I was feeling. I was sitting in the dark, on a cement ledge, at a high school near my parent's new home. (it sure didn't feel like my home) The world, as I knew it, was now over.

At the end of my grade 8 year, I was told that I had been chosen of one of only 2 students in the school to attend a technical college. Boy, did I ever feel like I was special...for about one hour. That is how long it took my pea brain to figure out that they were telling me that I was not good enough to succeed in the mainstream educational path. When I went back to the principal's office to ask about it all, now that the initial numbness had worn off, he was brutely honest about it.

Okay, I know that I was smarter than that. My problem was that I was a dreamer. Most of my time was spent in books, or whatever activity would help me escape what I found to be a very painful world. As I look back, I realize that by the age of 15 years, I was already so disallusioned by life, that all I wanted to do was to survive, as best I could, through each day. Every new day that I was given was more of an extended sentence than a blessing. By the age of 16 years, I was on the path to destruction.

The words, "Some days are diamonds," came to mean a day that I actually got from the point of waking up, to the point of going to bed without anyone causing any critical injury to my fragile self-esteem. And, as with most valuable diamonds, they were hard to find, and harder to hold on to. The days of "stone" were far more frequent.

Now, as a mother of adult children, I sometimes wonder if my screw ups have caused more "stones" than "diamonds" in my children's life. Lord, I sure hope not. Hopefully, I was a good mother, far more often than I was a total failure. In the end, we can't go back and fix those mistakes, just pray that God was able to work around them to guide our children into fairly well-adjusted people.

In my humble opinion, I have three pretty wonderful children. They don't always call or visit as much as I would like; but I know that they are hard workers and honest people of intergrety. I know that any of them would willingly sacrifice to help another, especially each other. I don't worry about what kind of people they will turn out to be, as I can see that they are all going to turn out just fine. They are the type of people that will enrich others, just by their aquaintence. Needless to say, I am thankful that they managed to grow up without my sensitive, painfulness becoming a part of who they are.

So, if you are wondering if you are totally screwing up your kids, keep in mind: God is bigger than the sum total of our mistakes. After the age of accountability, they are basically making decisions about the type of people they are going to be. All we can do is our best, and pray fervently for the rest to be covered by God's grace and love.

Know that God loves you, just the way you are...screw-ups and all; and so do I.
Be blessed, Jude

Divine Healing

In going back to view some of the topics that I missed, I found the topic of divine healing very interesting. As many, I too have to confess being more than a little skeptical of services where divine healing is supposed to be occurring. That is until one Sunday evening, three short years ago.

On the Wednesday before, I was told by my Christian friend and doctor that there was a rather large mass on the shin bone of my left leg. This was discovered when I was seeking some relief from my arthritis, which was getting worse. She showed me the x-rays, and told me that she feared it was bone cancer. Now, I would be scheduled for a bone scan to find out if the cancer had permeated the bone. Needless to say, I was going through a wide range of emotion, at this point. My dear friend and doctor, did something that not many people have happen at a doctor's appointment, she held my hands and prayed for me.

The next day, the call with a date, just one week away, for the bone scan was received. My non-Christian husband's look of absolute fear did little to calm me. I stood with the phone still in my hand, closed my eyes and gave it all over to God's hands. "Whatever this is, Lord, however this all turns out, I count it all joy. I know You love me, and would not allow anything which is not for my good and Your glory." I did not ask for healing.

My pastor and friends were very upset with me. I refused to pray for healing. To my way of thinking, asking for healing was the same as saying that I was not accepting His will. He knew if He was going to heal me, or not. So, I figured, as long as I accepted His will, He would take care of it, one way or the other. Yes, I know, many have also thought that this was pretty twisted thinking. Still, all I wanted was to be obedient and bent to His will. I had a firm belief that everything would turn out just fine, and that He had a very specific purpose for it all. So, I just relaxed about it, and was full of joy in the firm knowledge that God was in control.

Sunday morning, there was an announcement that a faith healer was going to be at our church, that evening, on her way to Toronto. She was based in North Carolina. I had no intention of attending, but was asked by the pastor to join in the praise and worship portion of the evening. After we had the music portion, the lady started to speak. She did not boast of miraculous events through her hands, she merely told of feeling that God sometimes used her as a vessel for His healing power. I was very impressed with her humility.

When the call came for those who desired healing, I had no intention of stepping forward. My pastor, however, called me up to the front, and asked for someone to lay hands on me, and pray for me. "Not for healing, you understand, as that is not her desire, but for courage to accept God's will." I was grateful that he was respecting my stance on it all, even if he did not agree nor approve.

I lay on the floor, as other's were, and one of the worship team, Jenny<>

It was much like a relaxation therapy session I had shared years before. Jenny started with my toes, and then moved to my foot, then my ankle. Sitting with her hands on my shoulders, her fervent prayer was blanketing me, from the tips of those toes. As her words moved to my calves, I felt someone's warm hands take hold of my feet. Her prayer did not change or skip a beat. My feet felt the warmth of that touch, and as she prayed, it spread up my legs along with the subject area she mentioned, until even the top of my head felt a warm tingle.

As she finished, we both were still for a few moments. The person who has been holding my feet had left us, and Jenny helped me up. I was feeling rather weak. Being hyperglycemic, I just figured that my blood sugar was getting low due to the strenuous exercise of the praise and worship time. After thanking Jenny, I asked her who had been holding my feet, as I wanted to thank them, also. She looked a bit confused and told me that no one had been there, only she had been praying for me. I didn't say anything, but figured that she had been praying with her eyes closed, so didn't see whomever it was.

As the day came for my trip to Thunder Bay for the bone scan arrived, I still was not overly worried. I was more concerned about the trip with my husband, than the appointment. (He does not travel well) The tests took a bit of a while, but were not uncomfortable. At the end, I was told that it would be a week to ten days before the results would be sent to my doctor, and that she would notify me.

Then, the big wait started. After waiting for almost a month, I called my doctor to find out what was going on with the test results. She promised to look into it, as she had never had to wait so long for that kind of test. The next day, she called. What had taken so long was that the tests were sent to not one, but three specialists. Needless to say, I thought her next words would be that it was indeed bone cancer, and that I would have to loose my leg. Still, I was trusting that if that were the case, God was in control and I was glad to be put through this if it brought glory to Him.

Her next words floored me, and completely destroyed my calm resolve. "The mass that I showed you on the x-rays, was not evident on the bone scan. They couldn't find anything. They had the x-rays, which clearly showed the mass, but on the bone scan, nothing."

I was flabbergasted. She had to repeat what she was telling me in at least three different ways, before it sunk in. The mass was gone. We arranged for me to get another set of x-rays done, just to be on the safe side. "God rewarded your faith, Jude." Doctor Nancy said.

Well, the second set of x-ray was proof that the mass was indeed gone. To this day, I know, in my heart of hearts, that it was God or one of His angles that had been holding my feet, as Jenny prayed. I know, in my heart of hearts, that He took the mass away, because I not only paid lip service to my faith, but when I was faced with the trial of fire, I walked into the blaze willingly and joyfully, ready to do His will.

I would like to say that I never doubted things again, but being human, I still do wonder, want to take the easy path, and feel terribly inadequate to the tasks which He sets before me....at times. At other times, I am still that same woman, full of faith that my shortcomings will in no way prevent Him from using me, blessing me, and allowing me to be a part of His work in this hurting world.

So, there you have it. This story is the third life saving miracle which He has granted in my life. While I am joyful of His love, I am also broken by the wonderment of what I could possible do for Him that would make it all worth His time and effort.

I hope this sharing blesses you, and helps you to know, a little more firmly, that God is very much alive, and is still the God of miracles.

Love in Christ, Jude

All My Life’s A Circle by: Harry Chapin

All My Life's a Circle
Harry Chapin

(Starts with 2 stanza chorus):

All my life's a circle;
Sunrise and sundown;
Moon rolls thru the nighttime;
Till the daybreak comes around.

All my life's a circle;
But I can't tell you why;
Season's spinning round again;
The years keep rollin' by.

It seems like I've been here before;
I can't remember when;
But I have this funny feeling;
That we'll all be together again.
No straight lines make up my life;
And all my roads have bends;
There's no clear-cut beginnings;
And so far no dead-ends.

     Chorus:

I found you a thousand times;
I guess you done the same;
But then we lose each other;
It's like a children's game;

As I find you here again;
A thought runs through my mind;
Our love is like a circle;
Let's go 'round one more time.

This song depicts what I need to share so effectively.  At 54 years old, my life
should be settled into a comfortable routine.  I should know who I am, what my
strengths and weaknesses are, and what I do and do not possess.  The operative
word being, “should.” I find myself, once more, with one of my children living in
my home. This is challenging me in surprising ways. While I dearly love her, and
am so very grateful for this time together, it is causing me unexpected concerns.
She is no longer a child, and has lived in a situation where, for the most part,
she was in control of her personal life.  Now, she is here, still wanting to be in
control, and making me, at times, feel more like the one who is visiting than the
one whose home it is.  She often acts like her opinions, priorities, wants and needs
are of far more importance in this home, than mine are.  This is a terrible way to
feel in your own home, and with your own child.  While I know she does not intentionally
make me feel this way, still, at times she does.  My life continues to go around in
the circle of feeling insignificant and incompetent and having to struggle for my
sense of self-worth.

That being said, I also realize that this living arrangement is very hard on her. For the last four years she has been able to do things her own way—eat what and when she wants, arrange the room which was her domain any way she pleased, dispose of anything that she felt, and come and go in the schedule which she designed(her responsibilities respected.) Now, she is back with her mom trying to ‘mother’ her. At 26 years old, that has to drive her nuts.

She is coming to understand that while this will always be home, it is not really HER HOME, but her mother’s home. (OUCH!) I so remember when I had to face that harsh reality, and how much it hurt to realize that you indeed can not go backwards. Home is always the place of the heart, but as we grow into adulthood, we must find and make our own place. Having done that, it is not only impossible to go back to being the child who lives with our parents, but is also unfair to the parents, and uncomfortable to the now child-adult. Once we have moved out of the house and struck out on our own, the home-place can never be regained. Our room is no longer ours, but becomes a room in our parent’s house. (OUCH, AGAIN!!)

After the relative freedom of life in Toronto, my sweet Joy is now confined to the fairly regimented schedule of the farm. Also, she is separated from dear friends and associates that have been a big part of her life for those 4 years. The depth of loneliness and feeling of seclusion has to be very painful. Her free spirit is being terribly challenged by the restraints of it all. She no longer is in a home with several independent adults, but is now in a home where we must all be respectful of the schedules, needs, wants and feelings of each other on a whole different level. The priority system is very different, and for someone so young and full of life, must feel terribly restricting.

There is one good thing in our favor, as far as this challenge is concerned; we all love each other very much. We are all willing to try our best to enjoy our time together and not let the other stuff cause too many problems. There is nothing that can subtract from that love.

So, maybe, through this entire summer experience, all of us are going to learn and grow. One thing is for sure, we will learn how to compromise and be considerate and gracious with one another, or die trying. God willing, by the end of Heather’s stay, we will appreciate and respect one another in a much deeper and more mature way. That is my fervent prayer.

As a child, youth and young adult, it seemed like my life went forward with no direction--mostly misdirection, actually. Being an adventurer and rebel, there was very little which would be called common in the choices which I made, the people I associated with, nor the places I lived, worked and played. I was a free spirit. My favorite song, through much of this time, was "I Am A Rock", by Simon and Garfunkel. It described my aloneness and stubborn will to survive. "And a rock feels no pain, and an island never cries."

During this time, I was free to be as frightened as I needed to be. I was free to be as lonely as I designed things to make myself. I was free to indulge in as much self-righteous anger as I could drum up. After all, I was the middle child of seven children and had been raised in a verbally abusive environment. These were my excuses for running away at the ripe old age of fifteen; for living a life that bounced between the freedom of the hippie world and the structure and relative protection of the biker world. In the circles of which I travelled, I was respected and, for the most part, left alone. Still, even in those times, I could see how other's hurt behind the angery facades. Many times, I would approach someone, even after being warned not to, only to find out that they really were grateful that I had been able to see past their "act." None of us, in those environments, were living in the "real world." We all changed our costumes like chameleons, to suit the present surroundings. Like chameleon, we were in reality, seldom what we seemed to be.

Now, as I enter my fifties, I can see the patterns which were played out in my life. More than that, though, I can now see how God was present and active through all of those lost years. His grace and mercy is visible like a scarlett thread, the blood of Christ flowed over me and protected me, guided and directed my path, if not always my footsteps. He would gently lead me to a place where I could make a choice to turn things around for a better life, but still lost in my fear, loneliness and anger, I did not realize that those occasions where His reaching out the hand of grace and love. Only now, in retrospect, do I truly appreciate all that He had been so busy working on for my salvation.

Through those lost years, there were angels in the strangest places, who would appear in my life to hold up a mirror to me, so that I could see myself through painfully honest eyes. There were angels who would appear to lift me out of a potentially fatally, or in the least, fatally destructive situation. They would come into my life, work their miracles, then slip out, barely noticed.
One such person was then a vice-president of one of the most notorious biker gangs in our city. We had a brief casual relationship, but from those few weeks, we were both completely and forever changed.
He spoke to me of his growing faith. He felt God calling his name. A good lesson that God calls us right where we are and who we are. This fellow, because of his choices of companions, really had no one around him who would understand, never less care to listen. They would probably think he was nuts. At the same time, I felt God calling me to stop indulging in my emotional quagmire and make some radical changes in my life. We spent hours talking. Actually, we did little else. Neither of us was really interested in any physical intimacy, what we longed for was a much deeper need.

Today, this fellow is a minister, and I am a Soldier in The Salvation Army. I can't speak for him, but I know that God is definately using me. Even the past lost years. He continues to use me to reach others who are feeling just the same as I did all those years ago. My understanding of their situation is not from some book I was told to read, but from living the same paralysing fear, anger so intense that you loose the ability to breath and suicidal loneliness that they are going through. Because of this, I am so grateful for the things which are my past. They now are tools in my ministry tool box. I don't just empathize with those emotions, I have walked the mile in those very shoes. Now, I count it all joy.

It is my fervent prayer that God continues to use me in winding the scarlet thread of His grace, mercy and love in other people's lives.

Be Blessed, Jude

Lately, I have been thinking about relationships. Not person to person relationships, but the relationships which are required between ourselves and our service providers; between ourselves and the things we own and use; and the relationships between ourselves and the dreams, desires, and asperations which come together to create the people we are and the priorities that we have.

I know...deep subject. Still, I have never before realized that all of these things were relationships. Thinking this way has given me a new respect for the process of living out each day. For instance, the phone call that comes and seeks my help with a project. How I respond should reflect the honest relationship which I have with the person, with the organization, and with my own capabilities, rather than just a response which reflects a desire to "be nice."

No, I haven't been reading my paranormal psychology textbook, again. ha ha ha

Investigating and learning about these types of relationships can only make my writing better. Once I come to understand just how these different types effect a person's life, I can write more rounded characters, with a wider range of attributes-good and bad.

I was thinking about why people continue to do things long after they have stopped having any joy from them, or even are capable of doing them well. Relationships, of any kind, are hard to walk away from. Why an elderly character would continue to garden long after arthritis has made it an extremely painful occupation. She has a relationship with the garden, with the work, and with the entire process of planing, tending then reaping. Even painful relationships are hard to walk away from. Understanding that, makes the woman a bit more human. While on the outside, the world sees her crabby nature, on the inside we can see her clinging to what is common for her. Clinging, as it were, to a relationship which has long since needed to be terminated. Anger is just fear turned inside out.

Okay, that is my rant today. Be blessed, and remember...relationships with people take time to build, but can be destroyed in an instant. Treat them with care, love and respect.
Jude

One small step. That is all God requires of us; one small step. I was thinking, today, about the prodigal son. (Luke 15:11-22) In this story, a man had 2 sons. One son was anxious for his life to start, and demanded his inheritance and headed out on his own. He squandered this inheritance away, then, when he had sunk pretty low, he decided to go back home, to his father and beg for his forgiveness.

The part of the story comes in the second half of verse 20. "While he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him."

Being a mother, I know that feeling of seeing my child returning home after a long absence. I know that feeling which is half longing and half disbelief. Can it be true? Are they really here? I imagine that this father felt the same way. At first, he was just seeing a silhouette of a man. The shape of him looked somehow familiar.

As the man drew nearer, the father recognized him as the son he thought was lost to him. What joy filled his heart. Then, the shape pauses for a brief moment, unsure of what kind of reception he was going to receive. The father, noticing the hesitation has a moment of panic. "What if he changes his mind and turns around?"

So, he does what any parent who loves unconditionally would do. He runs and snatches his son up in his arms and plants kisses full of love and acceptance on him.

When I am with my children, now all grown up, I long for them to be small again, so I can take them in my arms without restraint and pour my love for them out freely. When they were that young, alas, like so many other mothers, I did not love them as unconditionally, as constantly, as unrestrainedly as I should have. Life was just too busy, too painful, to confusing at that time. Not an excuse, just the only reason I have. It is a regret that I will have to carry with me, all the rest of my life.

Being a different person now, and as good a mother as I can, does little to appease my regret. Still, I know that even in that time, I did the best that I was capable of. Not the best that I could have done, just the best I was capable of.

Thankfully, my children know more about unconditional love that I did at that time. They have forgiven my inadequacies and continue to love me unconditionally. The gratefulness I feel due to their grace is the only thing that appeases my regret.

My relationship with my Father God has been the same. I have not loved Him as fully, as constantly, as unconditionally, as unrestrainedly as I should have. Just like my children, God only requires me to make one small step towards Him. Then, like the father of that prodigal son, He will run to me, take me in His arms and shower His love upon me. All I need to do is to take that one tentative step.

When you have so much in your life that you feel guilty about, that one step can take a lot of courage. There are times when that one small step is backing away, sometimes, I pause and even turn from His welcoming love. Still, He waits, unmoving, waiting for me to take that step towards Him, again.

What glory! What joy! When He is so loving, so gracious to forgive me my turning from Him, how can I possibly not learn to be forgiving? Even to the point where I can forgive myself. So, today, I am not only taking that one small step, even though I know that it is all that is required--I am running straight into His arms and soaking in His welcoming love.

How about you? Are you brave enough to take that one small step? He is waiting for you with arms wide open and a heart full of love.

In my creative writing work, what I am finding most enjoyable is the research. To write a believable story, the facts have to be historically, geographically, and forensically correct. To that end, I have been researching murder. No, I am not planning to murder anyone outside of the realm of fiction, but I want my characters to have the right personality traits and use methods, which will stand the test of logic. While I do not think there is anything logical about taking another’s life, I want those who have read, investigated and work in those occupations that come in contact with these deviations to read my work and feel that it is believable and follows the logistics of the crime. To that end, I must investigate murders, murderers, murder methods, and murder investigations.

What I am finding is that my files are starting to take shape and become organized to the point where compiling them in a book is starting to make sense. It would be a murder guide for writers, as it were. Therefore, soon, I will be working to compile this bevy of information into some semblance of logical order. Once that is done, I will be formatting it and delving into the world of editors, agents, and publishers, to see if I can drum up some interest. This is a new step for me, and one that I have, up to now, avoided out of sheer terror. Writing, when kept as a solitary occupation, leaves one free of criticism--but does nothing to further one in their writing careers.

So, with this new project in mind, I am feeling revived in my fervor to get moving ahead. In the meanwhile, I will keep researching and compiling. Someone once told me that real life is what happens while we are waiting for our life to start. I think it is the same with my writing. My career is what will be happening, while I am waiting for my idea of a career to begin.

When praying for those you love, do you believe that God is listening, caring and answering your prayers? When He answers, do you recognize that fact--or like me, do you pray, and wait for some great change to occur right before your unbelieving eyes? That is exactly the way I was. This weekend, however, God opened my eyes, and I realized the error of my ways.
For over 15 years, I have been praying for a softening of my husband's heart. In many ways, he was a cold, inflexable and hate-filled person. While there was much good in him, these attributes caused me a great deal of hurt. So, as any good Christian wife would do, I prayed for my unsaved husband. I really don't know what I expected--maybe a lightening bolt would come and strike him and he would be changed. Every time there was a big crisis in our life, I expected him to see the error of his ways and to come through it all a changed man. To my disappointment, he came through and remained just the same.
A few years ago, my son came and helped on the farm for the summer. I saw a gratefulness in my husband that I had never seen before, but did not recognize it for what it was. When we dropped my son off at the bus depot at the end of the summer, my husband, much to my embarrassment, broke into tears and sobbing. I was appauled. Instead of realizing that God has brought about the softening that I had been praying for, I was the one with the hard heart. Seeing my husband in his emotional state made me angry and discusted.
This weekend, I realized for the first time, that God had answered my prayer for Brian's heart. It was a big "splinter in your neighbour's eye" moment for me. I was so ashamed. Instead of trusting and recognizing God's work in my husband's heart, I saw it as one more thing that bothered me. What I realized is that I was so concerned about the state of my husband's heart, that I forgot to be concerned about the state of my heart.
Since this realization, I have begun to look at my husband in a whole new light. I have also started to pray for my own heart to be softened. God answers prayer. He just doesn't answer them our way, or in our time. Sometimes, the answer is subtle, and sometimes, the answer is to change us, more than those we are praying for. He has been teaching me about happiness and contentment, lately. Maybe, through these lessons, He had my attention long enough to teach me about how He answers prayer, and about judgement. I pray that He never stops teaching me these lessons. While they hurt, I am a far better person for the learning of them.
Be blessed, and be assured, God does care when you speak to Him, and He always answers.