For some reason that I can’t quite explain, 4-year-old Rowyn has decided that Heaven = Outer Space. There is no hesitation in his mind. When he talks about going to Outer Space, it’s to drop in on God and say, “Hello.” Preferably in a rocket. That, he says, is where he will go when he dies to live again forever.

Who am I, mere mortal that I am, to try to straighten it all out for him? LOL. The book of Daniel tells us about angels on a physical journey from Heaven to Earth, waylaid by demons so that they arrived seemingly “late” to answer the prayers of the faithful. For all I know, those demons were hiding behind an asteroid orbiting Jupiter. *shrugs*

The Milky Way over the West Virginia hills

But it came up in my little brain in response to some wonderful conversations and books I was reading yesterday. The conversations joked about how the particular group involved is made of black sheep, it seems. Or at least, would be dubbed so by a prominent few. We like reality in our fiction. We believe that redemption is greatest when the sin was staggering–after all, who will love the forgiver more, he who is forgiven much or little? We believe in thinking, in living our life in this world even if we’re not of it, in refusing the neatly bottled answers that are often tossed around in Christian circles.

And yes, that leads some of us to rant and rail on occasion. Why, we ask, do our brothers and sisters in the Church judge us for following Him into the wilderness? Isn’t that where He went? Where He ordered us to go??

Then, in something I was reading by my good friend and WhiteFire author Christine Lindsay, she quotes C. S. Lewis, and it resonated:

“It
would seem that Our Lord finds our desires not too strong, but too
weak. We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex
and ambition when infinite Joy is offered us, like an ignorant child
who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot
imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea. We are
far too easily pleased.”

You know what that hammered home to me? That we’re so very small. Sometimes, that makes us petty. Sometimes, that makes us close ourselves into a cozy little box. Sometimes it makes us judge–and I’m not talking just about the ones in the box judging those outside, I’m talking about the opposite too. We all want to be accepted for who we are–and when someone else is different, we feel that as judgment. Don’t we?

But what Lewis pinpointed so beautifully there is that God is bigger than that. God is a God of the biggest dreams, the grandest ideas. He’s a thinking man’s God and an infantile-minded man’s God. The God of the broken and of the fixer. He’s a God who says, “You want the world? Foolish mortal–I’m offering you heaven.”

Or as Rowyn would say, Outer Space. 😉 And that’s true too, isn’t it? He’s the God of the universe, of the infinite.

But how often do we forget that, as Pascal expounded on in a Pensee, the infinite goes both directions? The infinitely great, and the infinitely small. So often, we pick one direction and focus on that, because that’s where our interests lie.

I love–absolutely love–that I serve a God with no limits. A God who can touch hearts through the sweetest stories as well as through the grittiest. A God who doesn’t say we must change before we can enter His house, but who invites us in as we are and says, “I’ve been waiting for you. I have a job for you to do, and those quirks of yours will make you a perfect fit.”

I don’t know about you, but I serve one amazing, all-out, no-holds-barred God. He meets me in the grime, and He promises me the galaxies. He tells me that there’s nothing I can dream that’s too big…but that sometimes He wants to give me something even bigger than the corporeal, than the physical. He’s a God who says, “Go ahead. Reason. Ask questions. Explore the what-ifs. I’ll be there too.”

So for today, in all gratefulness, I say, “My God, who art in Outer Space, I set your name aside as holy. Establish your kingdom, and do your will, O Lord. Not just up in the stars…but right down here in the muck.”

Sometimes I think the world inside my head is a very strange place. Full of double-think and a pendulum of balance I knowingly employ to keep myself cheerful. A fair amount of rationalization when it comes to exercise and indulging in chocolate, and a strange collection of hope and fear.

All that comes into play at this point in the game with a book releasing. I so love Ring of Secrets, I so believe in its message. Of all the books I’ve written, this is the only one that I not only loved but about which I felt a perfect confidence. I knew this book would find a home. I didn’t know for sure where, but I thought Harvest would take it. So when they did, in additional to the excitement, there was this great, peaceful, “Yes.” Yes, this is right. This is where it’s supposed to be, and it’s going to do what it’s supposed to do.

But with the book a month away from release, the thoughts are bashing about in my brain. I have such hopes for it…but what if it flops? Harvest House has put so much faith and effort into me…but what if I disappoint them? I so adore this book…but what if others don’t?

I’ll admit it–I crave the validation of praise. I try not to, and I don’t define myself by it. I will always write, as long as I’m able and God permits, and if all the world tells me I stink, then I’ll write anyway. Maybe I’ll change the what or the how, but I am a writer. But those words of encouragement from readers? Those keep me going. And occasionally words of harsh criticism have been known to derail me for a day or two.

So I’ve been biting my nails lately. And the reviews have started coming in from advance readers. Mostly good. Nothing proclaiming it the best book ever or anything. And then yesterday, my first bad review of it. Three stars. Sigh.

I was pretty proud of myself for shrugging it off, but it niggled here and there through the night. But not because of the review itself…more because a good review from this same source on Annapolis I had grasped hold of firmly. I grinned and laughed over it. I touted it. And now, with a bad review from the same outlet, I’m perfectly fine with shrugging it off and saying, “What does it matter? It’s just one reviewer.”

To some, this no doubt seems hypocritical. Perhaps slightly unhinged, LOL. But let me explain.

I’m doing what I have to do. What I’m called to do. It’s a ministry for me. While I know that my books aren’t the end-all-be-all, aren’t Shakespeare or Austen, likely won’t top any charts, I also know that I’ve written them for a reason. And that I have other stories to write for their own reasons. I have, now, commitments and obligations to fulfill. Contracts. Deadlines. I have to write.

And so, I have to feed my spirit. With prayer, with the Word…and with the encouragement of my brothers and sisters of the Church. I have to focus on the good. And I have to push aside the bad, the insecurities. Not criticism that help me grow, but that which just tears down? Out the window it goes.

I have to trust that whatever this book does, what any of my books do, it’s okay. I have to remember that it’s not about sales or reviews or awards or acclaim or royalty checks. It’s about obeying. Listening. And most of all, loving. Loving my Lord enough to write what books He lays on my heart. And loving you enough to risk insecurity and disappointment enough to put my work out there.

Though this isn’t exactly the insightful post I’d hoped to start the new year with, it’s a necessary one.

Yesterday I got a call from one of the ladies in my Bible study group. We have a couples group that meets every Friday–the adults do the study, and our kids play upstairs. For the eight adults, there are approximately, oh, a gazillion kids. 😉 Okay, so 11. Lots of enthusiasm there, and we’re all so glad to be building relationships for and with our precious little ones.

One of the kids from this group is 8-year-old Hailey. At our last study before Christmas break, her mom mentioned how Hailey’s balance had seemed off, though she’d been trying to hide it. Walking very slowly, and indulging in wobbles and railing-gripping only when she thought no one was looking. Then at our Christmas party, Mom mentioned how her pupils didn’t seem to be dilating correctly. No one else noticed this when she called Hailey over and kind of laughed it off.

Apparently Hailey has gone to the doctor a couple times since–the family was expecting this to be some kind of ear infection, to be causing balance issues. But yesterday a scan showed a growth at the base of her brain stem. A growth “four pencil-erasers high.” They’re not sure yet whether it’s a cyst or a tumor, benign or malignant. She goes in today for an MRI and tomorrow will travel to the Baltimore area to see a specialist at Johns Hopkins.

Please join me in praying for Hailey and her family. Her mom was, needless to say, panicked and terrified and far more than just “upset.” And as someone who has gotten to know this little girl a bit this fall, I just ache for them. Hailey is a girl with a big, golden heart, one who loves quickly and without restraint. 

Father God, we beseech you now for Hailey and her family. Though we can’t always understand Your ways, we know they’re there. Though we are baffled and shaken when such illness strikes our little ones, we know that You love them more than we ever could. Father, our healer and provider, please touch Hailey. Strengthen her for the scans and appointments, breathe Your peace into her, and touch Your finger to this growth. Make it shrink, vanish, change in whatever way it must to be nothing. Heal her, Lord our God.

And wrap Your arms around her family, please. I know this is a family that loves You so much, and I know right now they’re crying out to You in agony. Soothe them. Embrace them. Help them to feel You in every scary moment throughout this ordeal. Hold them so close that they can’t for a moment forget Who is in control.

In the name of Your precious Son we pray. Amen.

This time of year, if you want a study in eagerness, all you have to do is take a look at children. Okay, if mine are the example, then looking at them anytime will give you a study in eagerness. =) At times, all that anticipatory energy can be exhausting. But sometimes, it can be so very inspiring, can’t it?

I love that kids can be just as excited about a day of service as they are about a birthday party. That reading a book to their younger sibling is as much a cause for celebration as a trip to the ice cream shop. I love that making their father a Christmas present is as awesome for them as opening one of their own.

I love that they take such Joy from life–not just from the big things, but from the little. I love how they look forward to watching that new movie just as much the fifth time as the first. I love that they are always so eager for the things they love, no matter the work involved in getting them.

And I love that Jesus uses them as the example of how our faith should be.

I sometimes wonder when we lose that eagerness, that full-out Joy. I’m sure I’ve wondered it here before. But as an adult, it’s so easy to worry too much to enjoy things. To look at things like Christmas cookie baking as a time-consuming must instead of anticipated fun. It’s easy to look at all the holiday activities and see only the minutes and hours adding up–and counting down–and get stressed wondering how to fit it all in. It’s easy to look at that gift you want to get someone but can’t afford and feel disappointed.

And it’s so, so easy to forget to be eager about our faith. Sure, we talk about the Reason this time of year. But are we excited about it? Are we eager for Him every day of the year? Do we jump up and down for him morning after morning, like a four-year-old asking for his favorite breakfast?

This year, though I’m under deadline and anticipating a move and overall busier than usual this Christmas, I keep getting hit with this enormous gratitude for the enthusiasm of my children. It leaves me exhausted, but it reminds me of what matters. Of how I should be greeting the world. Of how I should be living my faith. 

It reminds me of how my heart should be before the Lord–all-out, bubbling-over, squealing with delight joyful.

I’m happy to say that this year (as opposed to most years), I’m nearly done my Christmas shopping already. I have a few things yet to pick up, but all the tricky ones are handled. I’m feeling on top of things there. Mostly. 😉 And as I talk with my kiddos about the real meaning of Christmas and all that fun stuff, I can’t help but think about the gifts I’m most grateful for.

I totally neglected to post on Thanksgiving (though I’d meant to, LOL), so I figured I’d take a few minutes now, halfway between the holidays, to give thanks for those gifts that make my life worth living.

Sometimes it just hits me anew how blessed I’ve been in my family life. God put me in a loving, amazing family growing up. One that protected without being overbearing. One that nurtured without stifling. One that provided fun as well as life-lessons to remember. My parents taught me to love God and follow Jesus, to chase after my dreams, and to always be myself. They somehow raised me to be secure in exactly who I was, so long as I was following the path the Lord wanted me on. I am so, so grateful for my family.

Then I happened to meet the man of my dreams at a very young age. Oh, that caused some nay-saying back then, to be sure. In this day and age, it just isn’t expected that you meet your soul mate at 15 and get married at 18 (by choice, not by shotgun, LOL). But David and I knew what we wanted and needed, and I don’t regret a moment of the last eleven and a half years of marriage. I am so, so blessed to have a husband who not only loves me but understands me. Who supports my every dream and encourages my every goal. No matter what comes and goes in this life, I know he’ll be beside me every moment he can be. And I am so grateful for that rare and precious gift.

And then the children God has given me! Goodness, I know most parents think the exact same thing, but these little people are just amazing. Sure, I get frustrated with them. But when I take a step back and really look at who they are, I can’t believe the sweet hearts they have, the Joy, the delight. They really are the lights in our lives, and I’m so, so proud of them. And grateful for every hug and cuddle, for every grin and giggle.

Then I look back over the years I’ve traveled to get to where I am, over the tears and letdowns in an attempt to build a career, and then at the place I’ve ended up. Not that I’m now a best-selling, raving success or anything, but I’m here. Where I’ve always wanted to be. I’m working with an editor who believes in me, with a house that believes in me, on projects that excite us all. I’m working as an editor with amazing authors whose stories leave me breathless. And I’m finally “supporting my habit,” as I call it. 😉

I have so much. So much to be grateful for, so many gifts that I’ve received, gifts that I never would have put on my list for Santa, but which far surpass that bike I had to have or the doll that was utterly necessary at age 7.

Don’t get me wrong, I love that new Dyson vacuum cleaner that just arrived yesterday, and all the other gifts my family blesses me with each year. 😉 But at the end of the day, when the new pots are in the cabinet and the new shirt is stained and worn, I can settle on my couch with the man I love and think, “Wow, Lord. You’ve given me love. You’ve given me family. You’ve given me my dreams. Please show me what I can give back to You to show You that Your love is what I prize above all.”