I've had an opportunity to share some of my writing journey with a writer's group at my church. The following is the handout I created for the class. I pray it will be helpful to you as well.

R.S.V.P.

I pray the name of Jesus over you

Like a banner waving

Victory and joy ~ From Canyon Road, A Book Of Prayer by Kari Kristina Reeves

As I was preparing this teaching, I realized the first letters of the components I wanted to highlight contained the French expression, Répondez s’il vous plait. This translates, “Please respond,” or “Reply if it pleases you.” I believe as writers, this could be the invitation the Lord asks us to consider. “I’ve invited you to write, use the gifting and talent I’ve supplied to you, anointed you with. Please respond. I’d love to see you at the word festival.”

The following are ideas to keep in mind as you respond to His invitation:

READ

Reading often partners well with writing.

What do you enjoy reading? What is your writing genre?  How do the two intertwine for you?

I find that if my reading slows down, I risk leaving new worlds that enhance my writing.

Keep your writing fresh by reading a genre you don’t usually prefer. What might you learn, and how might this influence your writing style?

Schedule a classic every now and then. Something, perhaps, you’ve wanted to read but just haven’t gotten to.

SAFETY

As writers, we often become excited about sharing a piece we’ve written, much like a chef may desire a person to enjoy her culinary expression. Sometimes, however, even the individuals we believe will most enjoy our writing may not. A disappointing or critical reaction has potential to derail projects. One day as I took a walk, I noted a neighbor had dumped pens and beautiful journals, watercolors and brushes in a heap by his trash can. I felt sad and wondered if this person had received negative or toxic comments about pursuing art. As you move forward, pray about who might be safe to share your projects with. Of course, you’re not looking for, “Oh, this is so great! Don’t change a thing. You’re a genius!” You want people to read your work who will concurrently honor your vulnerability and provide honest feedback. When the Lord leads you to these people, you will have discovered treasure and increased motivation to keep writing.

How have you managed negative responses to your writing? If you’ve experienced a dip in motivation, what might you need to increase your confidence and pick up your pen once again?

VOICE                           

There’s a lot of talk about “finding your writing voice.” That can be overwhelming to define; however, I don’t believe God wants it to be. The Lord creates our hearts to tune in to unique ideas and issues. I encourage you to anchor into what YOU notice. What creates excitement, what images, colors, locations, people, animals, periods in history, characters, authors you love inspire you? What is the Lord downloading in your dreams in your journaling, in your imagination? In the Word? The sky is the limit as God is the impeccable Master Creator. He designed us to create and so enjoys the collaboration with His beloved. He created you and your heart and your desires. Move toward those things and your voice emerges beautifully. And the reader needs your unique voice. No one else sounds like you. Think of this: an author you truly love publishes a new book—you can’t wait to read it, because you know her voice. You recognize that sound. If the world does not hear your voice, a gem of healing remains buried. Your voice is a healing vessel to the world.

If your writing was a soundtrack, what melody or artist would it most resemble?

To live in this world

you must be able

to do three things:

to love what is mortal;

to hold it

against your bones knowing

your own life depends on it;

and, when the time comes to let it go,

to let it go.~ Mary Oliver (From In Blackwater Woods)

I would have preferred to stand on the shoreline to say my goodbyes. Instead, I walked to the park inside my condo community and sat at a picnic table located underneath the shade of an oak tree. It was early morning and not yet hot. A light breeze rustled the tree branches and I could see a few geese gently entering the water at a nearby pond. A bird flew near me and settled on a fence post. I wished I could reach out and touch the little bird. It was so close, I could see the shining black bead of its eye, see the outline of feathers on its breast.  But of course, it would fly away if I went near. So I stayed put and talked to my friend who had recently passed away. Yesterday I attended her memorial service.

The poem by Mary Oliver was on the back of the memorial program. I sensed my friend was saying to all of us who loved her, "Let go now. I'm free. I'm okay. I'm more than okay. I'm healed and enjoying life in the Kingdom. But you are still living and have more days to walk by faith, to live in this world." 

He is so often in the past because that's where he left his boy and where he can still find him. Not the actual past exactly but his memory of the past, a past distilled and refined, a past that makes sense, a story not a circumstance. The past, then, is malleable, not fixed.~John Dufresne (From My Darling Boy)

I hadn't expected that grief would feel so like an ambush. That's not my word. It's the phrase used in the Grief Share group I'm in. A "Grief Ambush," states the workbook. That's when something comes out of the blue--a smell, a song, a location, or a memory that surfaces suddenly when you least expect it. Then you're crying in the grocery store or numbed out scrolling on your phone or your body so exhausted it seems a tire is encircling your neck. Pulling you down. Or you wake up at 1:30 a.m. and can't go back to sleep, your brain sprinting around an endless track of thoughts and feelings and what ifs and shoulds. And the culture doesn't adapt to these ambushes. "Time to move on. There are a million things to take care of." "It'll be okay." "You know you'll see your loved one again." The Grief Share workbook calls these pithy phrases "motivational soundbites." Ugh. Not helpful. (Surely though said with good intentions.)

I didn't foresee that I'd feel as sad as I do when my brother-in-law died. I've even felt guilty that I'm taking his death as hard as I am. I mean, I've lost people before. My sister, a good friend, a colleague I worked with most everyday for fifteen years. Aren't I more resilient than this by now? The Grief Share facilitator reminds the group, "Don't compare your grief process with other peoples' experience." I guess that means not comparing my own past losses as well. "Everyone grieves differently and that's okay. Go at your own pace," he consoles.  I notice in the group there are people attending with "fresh" losses, in the last months, even in the last weeks. Others two years ago or eight years ago, but say they've never talked about the death, never felt permission to mourn aloud. 

Really, life is all about walking in love.~Mary Lou Dayton

She has bright, quilted banners hanging on her walls that proclaim "peace" and "hope." Framed photos of loved ones artfully line her shelves. The screened-in porch is appointed with red cushions tied to wrought iron chairs. A pot of flowers sits on the table. Sunlight pours into her lovely apartment as we sit and talk. She is one of those people who makes direct eye contact when she listens. She hears and sees you. She remembers what you say. 

Dr. Gerry Ken Crete, author of Litanies of the Heart, describes a humble person like this: Humility consists in being precisely the person you actually are before God. We become down-to-earth and comfortable in our own skins. We no longer try to compete with everyone else, and we no longer need to be affirmed by everyone else. We realize we have many gifts and talents as well as limitations and weakneses. We don't try to be more or less than who we are. There is a tremendous amount of relief that comes with being humble. And there is a tremendous amount of relief in being with my friend who imbues this definition of humility.

My friend is bearing a difficult burden, a challenging diagnosis. She is suffering. She struggles to speak as we sit across from one another. Now in the midst of all her lovely art is medical equipment and numerous bottles of medication. I ask, "Perhaps I can read to you?"

Moments

There are moments that cry out to be fulfilled.

Like telling someone you love them.

Or giving your money away, all of it.

Your heart is beating, isn't it?

You're not in chains, are you?

There is nothing more pathetic than caution

when headlong might save a life,

even possibly, your own.~Mary Oliver

There are decisions to make every day. And the choices add up, good or not as good, over time. Then there are what I define as the big decisions. Who to marry, whether to get the degree, the career path, another child. Every season of life contains the "big ones." I thought at almost seventy years old, I had surpassed most of the major decisions. Surely I have to some degree, yet a choice I needed to consider emerged. 

I had the opportunity to move forward with publishing my books in an expanded format. I felt excitement about having my books in other locations besides Amazon or ThriftBooks. I would be responsible for promotion and getting the word out, creating a TikTok platform and having to "face" Facebook again. There was monetary investment as well. The publisher exhibited enthusiasm about my work and encouraged me to think about "getting out there."