Things I need to write about
Isaiah 40:31
But they that wait upon the LORD shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles, they shall run and not be weary, and they shall walk and not faint.
In meeting this piece of scripture came forward and the poetic structure was pointed out. That usually it would be I can walk, I can run, I can fly. But here it begins with flight and works its way back to the mundane.
I struggle with depression. And I'm tired of that, but there it is. And while I can fly and I can run, it is the walking that causes me troubles. The walking, the opening of mail, the answering the phone, the doing of dishes and laundry and weeding the garden. These are the tasks that truly terrify.
But I can write a novel. I can produce vast quantities of knitted garments. I can build a cedar bench from scratch. I can make lip balm and soap and watermelon rind pickles. I can sew new curtains for the boys' room and quilts for my mother-in-law and skirts for myself. I can play trumpet with a big band. I can hold three jobs and parent two children and two cats.
But all my fish have died. Fish are quiet. They are easy. They are the walking part of my life. The health of the aquarium is an unfortunate metaphor for my state of mind.
In meeting I felt hopeful and nervous because I feel my strength returning to me. I fell ME returning to me and I feel that I may once more be able to accomplish the mundane.
I opened my small bible to a random page and found a Psalms 38:17
For I am ready to fall and my pain is ever before me.
I often feel that I am falling, but I rarely feel ready to fall.
I thought about what it would take to be ready to fall. Faith growing within myself. Faith in me, faith in my family, faith in my religious community. Faith that if I were to fall they would catch me.
Then I flashed on an absurd image of me body-surfing through the meeting.
Growing up one of my dad's favorite sayings was, "If you aren't falling down, you aren't learning anything."
I am ready to fall.
Church Ladies in the Basement and How I Became One
This past spring one of my elderly quaker friends passed away. He was in his eighties and cancer took him so quickly that the meeting barely had time to process the fact that he was sick before he was gone.
I was not ready for him to be gone. I wasn't ready not to hear his clear voice singing hymns out of the silence or coming up with just the right biblical quotation. At our liberal meeting, he was one of a handful attenders with such a strong background in scripture and the meeting was richer for his presence.
I found myself sobbing at the end of the meeting when we learned he had passed away and it was his wife who comforted me. She said it was a rare privilege to be able to say goodbye to a spouse of sixty-some years.
When it came time for the memorial service they needed people to help organize the pot luck and I willingly agreed. All I knew was that I needed to show up at 8:30 and that the family wanted all ingredients listed for every dish (for the benefit of those with food allergies and sensitivities).
There was a lot of food.
I happily kept busy through the many surprises: four times as much food as we expected, the presence of a caterer, and the fact that the two people in charge of the food-- me and another friend of the family-- had no idea what we were doing. She was a young woman in her 20s. I am 36. At one point we started giggling about the fact that we were the blue-haired church ladies in the basement.
When my friend's daughter met me to thank me for helping she was shocked. She had assumed that I would be of an age with her parents.
She actually gasped when her mom introduced us!
where i'm at for writing...
1. Switching from querying to revising mode for Shooting the Thorn Tree (my first novel) which I still hope to find representation for in this coming year.
2. Celebrating the fact that while I am probably NOT one of the mentees for the Loft mentorship series in fiction this year, it is the second year I was one of the finalists. Third time is a charm.
3. Starting to send out poetry.
4. Need to send out short stories as well. Plan to submit to literary journals that have reading periods Sept-May.
5. Really excited that #1 son will start Kindergarten in the fall and that I will not be working 3 out of 5 weeknights anymore. This change in schedule should theoretically help my ability to get things done.
waiting for the frelling prize patrol
So I'm once again a finalist for the Loft's mentorship series in fiction. Which is good, don't get me wrong. I'm happy just to be nominated. But since they sent word that we would likely receive notification in the first week of July I am checking my email every thirty seconds.
