Why Write?

Bizarrely enough, listening to Romeo Dallaire the other night reminded me of why I want to write (besides the whole characters who talk back when I talk to them crazy story loving obsessiveness).


I want to be able to write down the stories of others. The tragic, the beautiful, the simple, the ridiculous. More along the lines of collections of short stories than complete biographies. I would like to spend time in long term care centres learning/writing the stories of the seniors. The same in refugee/displaced persons' camps.
My writing skills have a long way to go to reach this but we'll see.

In the realm of fiction, I am drawn mostly to allegory. I would like for people to be able to see their own lives/experiences in the stories I write, to relate to the brokenness and then the hope. Blurring the line between reality and imaginary in my stories that the readers might be more likely to see the connection between the physical and the spiritual.

I want to learn how to tell stories in the old fashioned auditory way as well, to make bedtime stories for my kids like I did for the campers this summer.

All that said, I don't see myself writing as a career. More like writing will just be a part of the other things that I do. I am a nurse, a dancer and an intercessor all of which connect to story.

Most of all, I really want my writing to be another way I show God I love Him, another form of worship.

Oh the Great Romance!

*dances in circles*

JC

Missin' you, lil' sis.

Happy almost birthday. :)

See you soon and very soon. ;)


P.S. Thank You, Abba.

NaNoWriMo!

Hurrah, I am in the midst of a story.

Perhaps I will post an excerpt here at some point. :)

Email me if you would like to read the whole thing.

*writes in circles*

A Story of Dance (part IV)

For a full song, my new Aussie friend dances over me with her shimmering fabric. I rest and rejoice and heal, delighting in His delight over me. When the song comes to an end and the next starts, I dance again on my knees. Behind me, she follows my lead and we worship together.

I have not danced worship WITH another dancer since the end of [dance team] over four years ago. Somehow, even though we are strangers to each other, without any rehearsal or speech between us, we move in beautiful synchronization. I am leading but, at times, I follow her movements. We dance, not as a person and a shadow with one doing exactly as the other, but as two hands might, moving separately from each other but always in complement.

I'm not really sure whether our dance is a gift from us to Him or from Him to us.

Maybe it is both. . .

Sonlight

She sits on the dark rock and watches light appear on the horizon. Pale streaks of red reach toward the fading stars. The wind blows her hair back from her face and I wonder if she can hear me approach. I stop within arm's reach behind her. Silent. What is there to say?

She speaks before I can form words, "Why?"

Curiosity and pain carry the question but I hear no anger in her tone. I want to answer, to explain why I did what I did. But there is still so much for her to discover. She won't understand yet. I shut my eyes but the tears slip through as I stand.

She sighs. Her head bows down over her knees. She leans forwards and crouches, palms flat against the black rock. The sun peeks over the water. A long dark shadow covers my feet.

My stomach knots within me. Please, don't give up now. Now, the blazing light shimmers off the ocean, blinds me so I cannot see what she will do.

Until she rises.
A silhouette, her outstretched arms outlined by brilliant light. She lifts her face to the light.
Seeking the son.

A Story of Dance (part III)

. . .even after admitting surrender and hearing the encouragement of my friends, can you believe I still struggled with dancing at that evening service? My feet itched to dance and my heart ached but I stood swaying with doubt, fear as the worship team played.

But God is very persistent. And abounding in mercy. :)

I stepped into an open area in the middle of the sanctuary and I danced. I danced in adoration, praise, surrender and brokenness. He danced with me! My feelings of awkwardness and clumsiness faded in the wonder of His delight. As a new song began, I was kneeling on the ground and I felt very strongly that this song was meant to be danced with fabric. "Oh Abba," I thought, "too bad I don't have any fabric."

But before I could determine how I would dance, a shimmering veil of white dropped over my head. It was a swath of beautiful transparent fabric held in the hands of an Aussie who had flown into Canada the night before to learn and work at my friends' base. Gracefully, she danced over me with the material.

I was overwhelmed.
NO WAY, God, no way! You did this?
Wow.

. . . :)

Knowing God

On the Circle, TC posted this question:

"What do you really know personally about God? Not from Sunday School, not from 3rd grade sermons from countless sleepy Sunday mornings, not from Bible Studies, or small groups, not from your Dad or Mom, brother or sister, not from friends, movies, books, and stories, not even from the Holy Scriptures… but from your personal intimate interaction alone with…..Him."

The full thread is here , and I recommend reading through it and considering the question yourself.

Yo conozco Dios. What has he spoken to me personally?
He loves me more
(more than anyone else who loves me, more than I can conceive, more than I love Him)

He loves His bride and longs deeply for those in rebellion against Him.

He loves Anna.

He is trustworthy.

What I hear most frequently:

*silence*

"I love you"

"Trust me"

*laughter*

"Wait"

"Dance with me"

Rejoice

Rejoice, my soul, in the Lord!
Praise Him in all He does
Laugh with the wonder of the heavens
Cry with the newness of the rain
Dance with the life of the Spirit

Rejoice!

I Be Back

Sorry to leave the dance series hanging! I will finish the story but for the next week I am at staff training for camp.

Thank you for praying. :)

A Story of Dance (part II)

Back to the Sunday morning church service. . .

    I knew God was calling me to dance with Him but I rebelled. "God, what if I am a distraction to the church? What if I draw their eyes away from you? You are a God of order, right? How can dance here be right? WHY am I so confused about this?!" As I knelt there sobbing I realized that I believed a terrible lie, somehow over the course of time I had let the enemy deceive me into believing that dance had no place in the church, in corporate worship.

If you had asked me about this before that morning, I would have denied it, "Of course dance does! I have lived it!". But the lie had gone far deeper than I knew. And even recognizing it as a lie, I struggled to let it go.

 

    The music came to a close and the pastor read from a passage from on the New Testament letters, stopping to repeat one phrase in particular. I don't remember what the passage was or even the phrase but God spoke to me through it of His promise to me, of the great things He would bring forth. And I cried even harder that He would speak so to me when I was fighting against Him. Again, He asked me to dance when they did music with the offering. Again, I said no.

 

-Interlude-

    At this point, I was a terrible mess of tears and snot, not to mention emotional turmoil: "Abba, I am such a mess!" But, in tender love, God gave me the impression that if He were to be standing there in flesh in front of me, I could wipe the snot off on Him. Gross, maybe, but again I was overwhelmed but how much and how steadfastly He loved me.

-end Interlude-

 

    I stopped bawling long enough to listen to the pastor's message. She spoke about the firstfruits sacrifice and celebration in the Old Testament. In particular, she emphasized God's call for us to thank Him and rejoice before we have seen a full harvest, to praise Him while the seed is still in the ground and anything might happen to it. I listened and was reminded that I am to rejoice and thank God for the ministry of dance even though I can't see it. The harvest is His.

    The morning service ended and I had an eagerly attentive audience in my friend's family who wanted to know what I had thought of the service (her dad pretty much interrogated me, lol). I summarized what I had happened and they encouraged me that I could most definitely dance in their services, that normally there were people dancing. I received their words with mixed feelings: joy, relief, guilt, hope.

 

    That evening, most of my friend's family tromped back into the van to go to the evening church service. Honestly, I did not want to go. I hadn't slept enough in the last few days, I was spiritually/emotionally drained, I was grouchy. But I went and walking through the front doors, I told God that He would have all of me. I was here to worship Him.

(..more coming…)

A Story of Dance (part I)

This is a story, a testimony, a revelation of dance but it is also a beautiful demonstration of God's mercy and grace. On June 1^st, during a Sunday morning church service, He asked me to dance with Him. I buried my face in my hands and I cried because I wouldn't.

 

To give you a better understanding of what happened, I will give you some background. God has given me dance as a gift. I first began to grow in this gift through the Jesus Dance School and a dance ministry during my teen years. I discovered how dance could be a form of intercession but my deepest passion at the time was worship dancing with the church. My experiences over the short life of the dance ministry have impacted me greatly. In time, the ministry died. It happened slowly as members in the church (I never knew who) prompted the dancing to move away from the front to the sides, then to the back.

It was never said directly to me but I was left with the strong impression that dancing was a distraction during worship, that this gift was negatively impacting people and drawing them away from God rather than to Him.

I remember very well the last worship dance practice. I felt that strange peace that surpasses all understanding when the dance leader told us that it was ending. I knelt before God during the dancing and told Him that the gift was His. If I ever danced again, it was to be His choice.

 

That summer, I went with a dance/drama team to perform on the streets during the Olympics in Athens, Greece (which is another strange and beautiful story). God opening up this opportunity for me to dance spoke to me that He would resurrect the gift in His time.

For the next three years, I hardly danced. And often when I did in worship, it felt awkward, out of step, very different from what I had experienced in the dance ministry team.

 

In the fall of 2007, God brought dance to life again. I spent every night during the month of October in intercessory dance, learning from Him. It was profoundly freeing and humbling. But with this re-birth came a terrible ache. A painful longing for something more that still needed to be born and soon a wrenching realization that I had wounds that needed healing.

I heard from many around this time about their own gifting of dance and what God had taught them. It was encouraging and exhilarating but a woman I respect and cherish spoke against dancing. And her words ripped open wounds I hadn't know existed.

And it was good, because God began to heal these wounds.

 

(to be continued)

Hitty

Hitty: Her First Hundred Years is the latest Newbery Award winner that I have read.

The story consists of the memoirs of Mehetabel (better known as Hitty), a small doll made of sturdy "lucky" mountain ash wood.
Among her adventures: living aboard a whaler, being part of a snake charming act and being worshipped by islanders.
Overall, a slow but enjoyable read.

"Schwa"

You learn something new every day. :)

I haven't the slightest memory of learning what the "schwa" sound -upside down "e" in dictionaries- referred to. Now, I know! It is when a vowel is lightly pronounced as an "uh"/"er" sort of sound.

I learned this when mention of the "schwa" sound turned up in my sister's grade four reading lesson today. I had to teach it to her. :)



-This moment brought to you by the letter ə -

Opening the Blog

I am considering making this an open blog but then I will need to commit to making a habit of posting. And I will need to be more careful with what I share. Blogs are meant to be read as much as written, I suppose. :)

(and I already talk to myself too much)

What is your will, Abba?

Talking with God

Whoa

 

So how do I focus, Abba? What direction are we going? I'm kinda dizzy.

I'm tired of struggling with fear, doubt, apathy, sometimes I wonder if I will ever really know Your love. Trust You and love You.

 

Thank you for the amazing work you have done in me. I am astounded by your gifts and persistent mercy.

 

I will keep holding to you.

Here I am

Sometimes I wonder what I am really doing. Am I listening to His will? Am I following in His steps?

What most strongly motivates me?

 

What my actions speak discourages me.

But His mercies are new every morning and his faithful love endures forever.

What he has begun in me, he will bring to completion.

I am His.

 

*hopes*

2008

It's a new world
It's a new start
It's alive with the beating of a young heart
It's a new day
In a new land
I've been waiting for you...

Here I am.


(From Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron)