Crown of Beauty

A second book club called and asked if I would come speak to their group. My book was on their reading list! With one book club gig now under my belt, I am as close as I will likely ever be to a celebrity. I readily accepted the second invitation. These little sparks of encouragement on my path to becoming a successful author are like sunflowers on the edge of the tumbledown empty lot I pass on my bicycle. Unexpected , breath catching bursts of beauty, of hope, of life.

A cousin wrote and told me her daughter was having trouble with a teacher. The teacher didn't believe in letting strong students read above their grade level. She felt the content of such books would be too mature, incomprehensible to a 5th grader. It didn't matter to her that the child might be capable of advanced reading and thus bored of the typical 5th grade book. To further turn the screws on this torture to a gifted young mind, the teacher required that the students read a half hour every day outside school time, but they were not allowed above the prescribed reading level.
"I'm sending her to school with your book," said my cousin,"And she will see if the teacher will let her read it." (Stories like this are one of the reasons I homeschool. I understand most teachers are not like this, but oh my! How stories like this hurt my heart!)
Later, my cousin reported back.
"The teacher looked at your book and couldn't find its level in the scholastic system. She said it appeared to be a book for adults, however. Then she looked at my child and told her she seemed to be reading at an advanced level...so yes, she could read your book."
We will conquer the world, one 5th grader at a time.

I sat at the computer, reading the many notes from relatives who grew up watching "School house rock." They sent links to songs which would teach Asherel the Preamble of the Constitution, as well as most educational requirements through graduate school. I didn't grow up with School House Rock. I was a little too old when it came around. However, I was feeling a little down about how unenthusiastic and busy our homeschool seems to be this year. It feels overwhelming right now. Too much to do, too little time, and too little joy. Could School House Rock infuse delight over 9th grade writing assignments, too? I started our school day with a communal prayer with Asherel, who looked at me quizzically. We both start our day with Bible reading, but separately. We usually don't start with prayer together.
"Why?" she asked.
Oh, I thought, I have not been steering this ship properly.

So while musing about all I had been doing poorly, I got a little chat message on the side of my computer screen. It was from my daughter in the next room. I don't know what we did before computers when family members had to actually move from room to room to talk to each other.

I had modified the writing/history assignment that day. My assignment was sparked by a new passion of Asherel. She has a new computer game she loves called Minecraft. She tells me that it is critical she play this game for normal social development since everyone her age plays it. In this game, she builds a city out of lego like pieces, and she has to plan and wisely apportion her "wealth" to build the city with all the essentials it needs to thrive and grow. The city has enemies, like wolves that can attack, but apparently can be tamed and become useful. I am sure this description is somewhat inaccurate, but you get the idea. Anyway, my assignment was to rewrite the Preamble and the first 5 amendments of the constitution as though it were written for the Minecraft community. She had to keep the same concepts and meaning, but use terms the Minecraftians would understand.

So, the little chat window from Asherel on the edge of my computer screen said:
"I am working on the Minecraft Constitution. Can I send you the Preamble so you can be sure I am on the right track? This is FUN!"

Fun? Out of the midst of my funk over how hard our school days had become, learning the Constitution was being described as fun.

That night as I settled down to draw my iPod picture, which I draw each day, sunflowers popped out of my hand and onto the screen. I looked at the  happy faces of the sunny flowers and wondered what had sparked sunflowers from the creative swamp.

Isaiah 61:2-4

² to proclaim the year of the LORD’s favor
   and the day of vengeance of our God,
to comfort all who mourn,
 ³ and provide for those who grieve in Zion—
to bestow on them a crown of beauty
   instead of ashes,
the oil of joy
   instead of mourning,
and a garment of praise
   instead of a spirit of despair.

Apathy Replaced

I took Honeybun and Asherel out to the backyard, and told her I was going to show her two different scenarios.
"I am not an agility handler, so try to ignore my handling skill."
Asherel swung on the tire swing, and watched.

"Here is scenario number one," I said.
I showed Honeybun the food bait, but otherwise, I acted a little bored and disinterested. Calmly, as though we were taking a stroll through the park, I pointed to jumps and quietly asked her if she might like to follow me. Because she is a good and loving dog, she did the course, but she did it slowly and with little enthusiasm or joy.

"Now, here is scenario number two," I said.
I bounced up and down and growled at Honeybun. I crouched and swiped at her, and urged her to play. She tumbled into play position and perked up with delight. I told her to "wait" at the start line, but I bent low and in a deep excited growl, repeated, "Ready? Ready? Ready?"
Every muscle in the little dog quivered as she could hardly contain herself.
"Go!" I shouted. She shot over the jumps. We raced together around the course, me shrieking and yelping encouragements and cuing her as far as my poor handling skills could, with excited vigor.  Honeybun roared over the jumps and then weaved with a skip, raced through the tunnel, and soared exuberantly through the course. She collected her reward, prancing and wagging.
"See the difference?" I asked.
"Fine," said Asherel, "But practice handling before you do that again."
She took the remainder of the hotdog and marched off to impose joy and enthusiasm on her happy dog.

I think we may have solved the problem of the disinterested dog who didn't seem to want to run the course on Sunday. If it is a job with no fun, no play, no excitement....well, jobs get old fast. And if the leader isn't particularly enthusiastic about what he is telling his soldiers to do, the soldiers will eventually mutiny.

There are lessons to home schooling moms like me in this little vignette. And as a wife, as a mother, as a worker, as a volunteer...Sometimes we all lose steam. Life becomes a drudgery, and exhausting, and we sink into robotic going through the motions with no real heart. One of the big lessons of the very hard year of rehabilitating Honeybun was that even when I didn't feel like being the strong alpha dog in her pack, I had to be a convincing fake. For her own security, she had to know that I was in charge and I would not let her down. And the more I practiced being what I knew I had to be, the better I became at it.

I woke up this morning, and snapped open the newspaper. There was a long article about my book, and our year of struggle rehabilitating the little dog! I have been in the paper a few times because of the accomplishments of my kids...but never because of something I have done. I smiled up to my ears, and thought about how I had almost given up, over and over and over again. However, God just wouldn't let me, until I ran the course, and ran it with joy.

Whatever we do, we are commanded by God to do it wholeheartedly, as for the Lord, and not for others. He doesn't command this to exhaust us with the sheer burden of energetic living. He commands it because in the end, we will be transformed. Apathy has no place in a world that is filled with rainbows, and waterfalls, and dogs with wagging tails.

Ephesians 6:6-8

⁶ Obey them not only to win their favor when their eye is on you, but as slaves of Christ, doing the will of God from your heart. ⁷ Serve wholeheartedly, as if you were serving the Lord, not people, ⁸ because you know that the Lord will reward each one for whatever good they do

You are Mine

For about two hours, I stared at the same image on the computer. There it was, after three years of working towards this end, my book was on Amazon, with my name beside the word Author. Within minutes of it appearing on the Amazon e-book store, several copies had sold. And no, I wasn't the sole customer. I only bought one copy.

When I told the friend who had been a huge part of the story, the rescue farm volunteer who had helped me with our vicious dog, she told me, "See? You want to get something done, you do it yourself."
That was what I had learned in rescuing the dog, and it was what I discovered in publishing my book.

I spent the morning reading a second time the agreement between me and the publisher, and then spent a few hours getting the book uploaded and ready. After a year of writing and two years of peddling it to agents hesitant to let a nobody in the door, my book was published. I was a published author, a dream I had nurtured since writing in my dairies at age 5.

To celebrate, we invited Asherel's friend Alex kayaking with us, and took off to a wonderful section of Lake Wylie.  It is a favorite kayak place. We kayak from the shore to a little sandy beach island and swim off the island. Right before  I walked out the door, I got some very bad news. It is not insurmountable, but it was bad enough to take my breath away. I left for kayaking as the girls chattered happily with one side of my face dancing with joy over the book, and the other side struggling not to slide off into my feet in despair.

As soon as we unloaded the boats with only a minor ripping of some crucial back muscles, the sky clouded over. We zipped out to the island but I kept a wary eye on the sky. It had the dark purply color tinged with green that means massive thunderstorms are hiding nearby. We squeezed out one and a half hours of swimming at the island, and the rain started.
"I think we better head back," I said.
Then the deluge started. Alex stretched out her arms and lifted her face to the pounding rain.
"I love the rain," she cried, her kayak bouncing on the waves, while the rain fell so thickly that she was obscured in grey opaque sheets of water.

That image described my day. My beloved kayak bobbing on waves, gloriously gliding on the beautiful lake,  ....and the raging storm closing in on me. Delight and Despair all in a single moment. Victory and Defeat. Hope and Worry.

As we raced to shore, I heard that little whisper in my soul that sustains me when I threaten to crumple.
"I know what I'm doing....," He said.
"You do?" I answered, "I mean, you DO!  But I don't, and sometimes that makes it hard."
"If you can trust me in the little things, you can trust me in the big ones," He reminded.
I let the rain beat that message into my pores.

When I got home, I gazed another few hours at the Amazon site with my book on it, and my name beside the word Author.  It was mine, that book that could be viewed by millions was my book, written by my hand, of my experiences. I felt such pride and love for my little book that I could hardly contain myself. And then the very bad news came tumbling back into my thoughts.

"And you are mine," said the still, quiet voice, "Trust me."

http://www.amazon.com/Im-Listening-Broken-Ear-ebook/dp/B005BRF2UU/ref=sr_1_fkmr1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1310165479&sr=8-1-fkmr1
kindle edition but kindle app can be downloaded to any smart phone, ipod, ipad, iphone, MAC or PC, or reading device.

Ephesians 3: 20-21
²⁰ Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, ²¹ to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen.