The Rest of the Story

Continuing my last post about my refusal to plant my seed:

After much sobbing and refusing on my part, and God’s firm and gentle reassurance, I finally planted my seed.  About six inches deep. And I packed more dirt on top, watered it down and packed it on, making sure that seed would never sprout.

What’s up with that? What kind of sick (in the hurting sense of that word) purposely sabotages herself, with GOD standing right there??

Boggles the mind, doesn’t it?

So, every day now, I’m asking myself: What am I doing with my seed? Am I planting it? Watering and weeding to help it grow? Or am I standing on it, refusing to let it see sunlight? 

Plant a seed

I recently listened to a writing seminar on MP3 about the spiritual life of a writer. The speaker had the attendees do an imagery exercise she had done a few years ago. It sounds like some New Age/meditative hocus pocus but she said it had been a powerful experience for her and led to an examined encounter with God.

I played along.

We were to imagine ourselves planting a seed.

That’s it. There were no further suggestions.

I was driving so I didn’t close my eyes, but I did look at the movie screen on the inside of my forehead to see me standing near a tree with God.

He kind of looked liked Gandalf, or Dumbledore.

He handed me a seed and said to plant it.

I refused.

I stood there next to my Father, the Creator of the World, and I shook my head, and clutched my seed in my hot fist and all but stomped my foot in my refusal.

Doesn’t take a rocket scientist or even a psychologist to figure that one out.

The question is why won’t I plant it? What good is the seed doing in my hand? None. Why won’t I let it do what it was created to do, sprout and grow and generate shade and new life?

Because I’m scared.

That’s a pathetic reason.

I’ve written a reminder and posted it on my monitor: Live Fearlessly. Love whole-heartedly.

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Today I prayed for: Pastor George and his family, Mom, Lois, and Dave H.

Last movie: … I have no idea

Currently reading: On Beauty by Zadie Smith. Lovely and lyrical and funny.

A Time to Clean, A Time to Refrain From Cleaning

 

I was cleaning house last week and noticed something.

I used to clean pretty thoroughly every week. Then it was every other week. Then when we were having company. We live in the country and hardly ever have company any more.

Now, I clean before we go away overnight.

I hate to come home to a dirty or cluttered house. So I pretty much only clean before we go somewhere. 

Good thing we travel fairly often or we’d be living in squalor.

Years ago I shared housecleaning with a girlfriend. One week we’d clean her house, the next week my house. This way we each got a clean home about twice a month.

Sadly, I moved away. And my house still misses her.

My standards have changed. When I get around to cleaning, I actually clean deeper and better than I used to. I just don’t get around to it very often. So maybe it all averages out.

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Today I prayed for: Taryn, Dee, our country, Hugh.

Currently reading: Just Friends by Robyn Sisman

Modern Life Sucks… Er… is Hard

The more things are supposed to be easy and convenient, the more they aren’t.

We pay bills online through the bank. We like the convenience, the low postage costs, and the time saved not writing checks.

It works great. Except when it doesn’t.

My trash didn’t get picked up this week. Why, you ask? Well, I’ll tell you. I called the disposal company to ask that very question. They say my payment hasn’t arrived. The bank says they sent it.

The disposal company will gladly pick up my trash next week, if I pay them again. Pay them the money that already left my account.

The bill coupon specifies an address to send the payment to. The live person I talked to locally said to mail it direct to the local office.

Is it just me, or is there a problem here? And I’m the one with the stinky, backed up trash to prove it.

 

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Today I prayed for: Kim, Brittany’s family, McKenzie, Amber, Max Lucado, me.

Last book read: Breaking Dawn by Stephenie Meyer

Last movie: Mamma Mia!

Straddling Two Worlds

I'm a follower of Jesus.

I dress in current styles. I keep my hair cut and styled. We homeschooled our kids and they turned out to be (relatively) well-adjusted and contributing members of society. I watch Survivor and Burn Notice and even an occasional R-rated movie. I read Harry Potter and Twilight and Nora Roberts.

I have friends who... don't. They believe their call from God means being separate from the world, to never be mistaken for a worldly pagan, and to vote Republican.

I have other friends and acquaintances who believe their call is to live in the world and in many cases to look like the world. They read The Secret and don't object to gay marriage.

I see the pros and cons of both positions and usually straddle both positions, figuring God knows my heart and that's all that matters.

Sometimes though I question myself and second guess how things are turning out. If I'd been more "godly" and eschewed fashion and threw away my hair straightener, would my kids be closer to God? (Not that they're not close, but maybe they'd be even more pious.) Or if I sent them to school and let society and culture have more influence, would they be happier?

By picking a moderate gospel, did I sell out and not follow Christ the way He would have me? Even worse, did I not point others in the right direction? Did I let them think a life without Jesus is okay?

May it never be!

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Today I prayed for: Joyce, Taryn, Sarah, Susan and family.

Last movie: Ghosts of Girlfriends Past

Currently reading: Tripwire by Lee Child

The More Things Change…

After watching Julie & Julia, I left the theatre a little discouraged. Again.

There is nothing new under the sun. That’s even more true now than it was when King Solomon penned it.

In the writing biz, we’re told to bring something fresh and unique to the publisher.

Huh?

Blogs about using a crock pot every day for a year and about preparing every recipe in Mastering the Art of French Cooking get picked up for books and movies. Both are well done, I’m not saying the bloggers/cooks turned in substandard work.

I’m saying it’s tough to find that one unique niche that only I can fill.

I’m too snarky on the page and too passive in person.

Last week, a friend I’ve known since I was 15 recalled that way back in high school, I’d be observing and listening in a group and then pipe up with a zinger and leave everyone with their mouths agape.

My husband loves when I do that.

If that’s my unique niche, how in the world do I transfer that to the pages of a novel?

In the words of Kathleen Kelly, in You’ve Got Mail: I just want to send this cosmic question out into the void…

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Today I prayed for: Nancy, Taryn, Louise, Richard Gere

Last movie: Harry Potter

Currently reading: …. something by Chris Grabenstein…

 

 

Technorati Tags: Writing life,niche,Nora Ephron

Lofty Expectations

As a writer, foodie, and Nora Ephron fan, the new movie, Julie & Julia seemed to be made for me. I’m the exact demographic. I expected to love it. I wanted to love it.

Maybe my expectations were too high, but I left mildly disappointed.

The beginning more than whetted my appetite. The food was beautiful, the scenery a feast for the eyes.

But somewhere in the last twenty minutes, the movie floundered for me. Part of it, I’m sure, is it’s “’based on a true story.” The writers and producers can’t change too many details. But there was a carefully worded disclaimer at the end that even though the movie was based on real life events and people, there were liberties taken and then it finished with the usual, “any similarities to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.”

Excuse me? If a movie based on real people’s lives shows what really happened, it “just happened?”

If it’s fictionalized, why not end with a bang, something satisfying as Beouf Bourguignon? It really just petered out, like no one knew how it ended for real, so they decided to walk off the set and let the audience figure it out.

Alternate endings I’d have loved:

*  Julia Child reading the blog and critiquing it. Especially about Julie saying, regarding unmolding aspic: “The bitch lied.”

*  Julie Powell getting a PBS series for an updated edition of Mastering the Art of French Cooking.

*  Paul Child returning to spying for the Food Network.

*  A deathbed scene between Julia and Julie.

Something better than Julie leaving a pound of butter at the Smithsonian’s altar to Julia. Come on, people. I know you can do better.

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Today I prayed for Joyce, Shawna, Dee, Mona, Jeff Zucker

Currently reading: The House on Olive Street

Last movie: Reign Over Me

Technorati Tags: Julie and Julia,Nora Ephron,food