Thankfulness

The NaNo (National Novel Writing Month) is over for me.  I am so thankful.  I hit the 50,000 words on Saturday, but I wanted to cushion it by about 1500 which I did slowly the last couple of days.  I uploaded my work today and won.  My project still needs to be completed.  I have about three more chapters to write and a couple more to finish up.  Oh, and then the dreaded editing begins.  After 50,000 words, I am a bit burnt out.  The funny thing is though; I can’t imagine doing anything but writing.  Of course, a thousand words are much easier to face in a day as opposed to two to three thousand.  So, running around town today, I kept thinking of what to write for my next blog post. 

This past month I read the book One Thousand Gifts by Ann Voskamp.  I came upon the book in a roundabout way.  Last month I had an editor tell me my writing was choppy.  My dear friend cheered me forward not only suggesting I read this book but also lending me her copy.  She wanted me to read Ann’s style because of the choppiness to see I can also publish even if I am a little broken up.  Well, her style is definitely choppy.  However, the reason behind the style is her poetic use of words.  I felt like it was one huge poem beautifully written from the heart.  I loved the book.

The premise of her story is creating a stronger faith life after living through the struggles faced in life.  Her mission was to write down her gifts received from God one by one until she listed 1000.  That is a huge number.  Now, every night I say my prayer of thanks to God.  I rattle off everything until I either fall asleep or start daydreaming.  But, Ann poetically captured the beauty in all the gifts she is given.  I was captivated by her use of words.  I would like to say I have started to do this, but alas, I still simply list my gifts.

I thought of the book this morning as I woke to achy shoulders and other body parts.  The shoulders were the worst.  I sat down at my desk to work a little on my suffering project.  Today’s assignment was to write about thankfulness.  I talked about how I could wallow in my pain today, but instead would be thankful. 

I am thankful for the opportunity to rest.  I am thankful for an activity today that will get me out of the house.  I am thankful to be able to hang out with my daughter and her friends.  I am thankful for my cat who will keep me company as I rest.  I am thankful for a new entertaining book I get to read.  I am thankful to be able to write and edit to sweep out the cobwebs from my mind as it wants to retreat into the pain.  I helped my son with homework for his advanced government class.  I am thankful he is taking the class and I am thankful for being able to help.

My simple list helped me smile and conquer my morning.  By this afternoon, I lay in bed exhausted.  My cat joined me.  I kept growling at her because she continued getting between me and my book.  I realized that I was supposed to be thankful for her company.  I gave her the attention she wanted for about five minutes.  She finally curled up at my feet and fell asleep.  I was thankful.

                Blessings to you all.

Aunt LaVerne

                Last night my dad called to tell me the news that my great aunt Laverne passed away.  This morning my thoughts are with her.  Her kind smile that lit up a room, her marvelous hosting skills, and the pounds and pounds of lefse she provided for all the family gathers make me smile.  When I pulled out my lefse from the freezer this morning, she filled my vision.

                My clearest memory of her is when I was a teenager.  Aunt Erma and Uncle Paul were in town visiting from California.  I stood on the opposite side of the tall counter that surrounded Aunt LaVerne’s kitchen.  Others were around and we were all talking.  Aunt Erma started looking at my profile.  Aunt LaVerne joined her in the scrutiny.  The two aunts discussed my nose.  Back and forth they went until they agreed that I had the Hedahl nose just like my grandfather’s.  Well, I have always been a grandpa’s girl and this just clinched it.  These two aunts were the best great aunts in the world.  I grinned a little bigger and stood a little taller the rest of the visit.

                The last time I saw Aunt LaVerne was bitter sweet.  When her health began to decline, she went to live with her daughter in Virginia.  I was fortunate to be able to take a weekend off of military training while in D.C. about four years ago and drove down to stay with them.  Aunt LaVerne didn’t remember me.  But that didn’t matter.  I loved being in her presence.  Her calm peaceful company draped over us as Bevin, William, and I chatted for hours on end.

                Dear Lord, please bless my beautiful aunt.  And give her a big hug from me.

Busy Times

                Busy, busy, busy.  That has been my life this month.  My poor blog has been pushed to the side because of everything that has been going on.  But, I don’t want to stop the blogging, so I thought I would take you on a little tour of what is going on in my life.

                First, this is the month of the NaNoWriMo, National Novel Writing Month.  This event takes place every November.  Crazy people from all over the world join a website and write a 50,000 word novel.  Two years ago I succeeded in the endeavor.  I took last year off and regretted it, so I am back at the process again this year.  I am not writing a novel per say, but I am writing a number of stories that will go into a book about suffering and persevering.  So far I have 19,150 words.  Of course, writing this post I keep thinking of the words I need to write today.  Uff da! 

                Another project for the month is a football memory book for the seniors.  I compile all the football articles in our local newspaper as a scrapbook for the boys.  Really it doesn’t take a ton of time, but it is a distraction from all other things.  All I have left is one more look at the formatting and then sending it on to the printer.  Yay, almost done!

                Finally, this month our Catholic community puts on two retreat weekends, one for the men and one for the women.  I help with the women’s in a couple of areas and I am helping sponsor a friend for the men’s weekend.  The wonderful part of this is the extra times I get to spend in prayer with so many amazing people.  I also take time out for extra Masses.  I love that.

                Of course, I still have all my duties as mom and attempting those of “domestic engineer” or the old fashioned housewife.  Both my son and daughter have their birthdays.  I am still trying to be a helpful leader for girl scouts.  So, blogging is going to be slow this month.  I am very thankful though for all the busy areas of my life.

                Blessings to you all.

Hannah

                A couple of days ago, I started reading 1st and 2nd Samuel in the Old Testament.  I want to use King David in my perseverance through story project.  Hannah’s story is at the beginning of the first book.  The story will not leave my thoughts.  I couldn’t get past the thought that she asked God to give her a baby even though she knew she would give that baby up at the age of about three.  I couldn’t wrap my head around that.  Three is when my children became more interesting.  Yes, I loved them as babies, but each new age they reached, I would have more and more fun with them.  And yes, I love the teen years.

                Finally, I blurted out the question to my husband.  Why would Hannah ask for a baby only to give the baby away? 

My ever patient husband said, “I gave our children to God when they were born.”

                “Well, I did too, but I still kept them.”  Years after our last child was born we talked about how the first Sunday after they came home from the hospital each of us dedicated our children to God silently without ever telling the other.  Yes, later we baptized them, but we dedicated the earlier.

                “But I will be very happy if they become priests.”  His logical approach was killing me.

                “Yes, but not give them to a priest when they are three.”

                We continued to discuss the fact that Hannah lived in a different time and place.  The honor she would receive from having a son study under a priest would be phenomenal.  I went back and read the story again and paid special attention to her prayer to God.  Hannah suffered at the hands of the other wife.  She had many children while Hannah had none.  I can imagine the undermining words the other wife would say to her.  Hannah’s status in the family would be so much lower because she didn’t have children.  Even in today’s society, people are looked at differently for not having children.  Mean things are said.  By God giving Hannah a child, her life would indeed get better even when she gave the baby to the priest Eli. 

                As I continued to read the story, I learned Hannah did go visit her son as he grew up.  She was also given three more sons and two daughters for her honoring God.  I love the story.  I now understand better why she gave up her son.  I would love it if my children became priests and nuns.  I also thank God that I get to keep them until they are young adults.  I am not so sure I would be as strong as Hannah and give them up any sooner.

                Blessings to you all.

Music Heals

                I am not sure when I fell in love with music.  As a child, I remember listening to my uncle play his guitar and singing.  My grandparents and parents had organs with numbered keys that I played.  My aunt played the piano as did my cousins.  I loved all of it.  In fourth grade, I took guitar lessons and in fifth grade I started my band education with the clarinet.  After that, I played bass clarinet, oboe, trumpet, baritone, and piano.  I sang in the choir for school and for church.  I love attending concerts and listening to my iPod at various levels of sound.

                When I am in a bad mood, the best thing to do is to put on my music and sing like I am a rock star!  All my life I have had a theme song.  The song changes with the years, but there is usually one.  I have been wondering what it is at the moment.  It is a bit fuzzy.  I think it is a combo of Abba’s “I Have a Dream” and Francesca Battistelli’s “This is the Stuff.”  When I doubt my writing, I listen to Abba and if things are going wrong, I listen to Francesca.  I mean really, how can you be in a bad mood if words are pouring out of you, your head is bopping, and your body is swaying?  I definitely can’t.

                Music helps me through my pain from fibromyalgia and rheumatoid arthritis.  I am working on a writing project about how to persevere while suffering either from mental or physical pain.  Music doesn’t take away pain, but it can distract you to give you blissful moments of peace.  I haven’t done any research yet, but I have come across articles about music helping the elderly and using it for therapy.  I love the idea.

                Last night as I was reading about King David for a writing project, I came across an exciting section.  King Saul hadn’t been listening to God so “The spirit of the Lord had departed from Saul, and he was tormented by an evil spirit sent by the Lord” 1 Samuel 16:14.  Saul was going through some serious self-induced suffering.  One of Saul’s servants recommended he send for a harpist.  He took the suggestion.  “Whenever the spirit from God seized Saul, David would take the harp and play, and Saul would be relieved and feel better, for the evil spirit would leave him” 1 Samuel 16:23.

                I do have to mention that it is a bit disturbing that God sent the evil spirit which really is a topic for a different blog.  But for thousands of years, people have used music to heal.  Before King David became King, he healed King Saul with his music.  Today I know I will have a great day even with my daughter going into surgery (simple tooth stuff).  I have listened to my music and this evening I get the pleasure of attending a concert at our local high school.  Of course, my son will be my favorite of all the musicians playing.  He plays a wicked (I mean this in the good sense) tenor and baritone saxophones.  So go out and listen to some music.  Right now I have Toby Mac playing.

                Blessings to you all.

Rejection

                Walking into my meeting with agent Jeff, I didn’t know what to expect.  The times I pitched before, the agent only knew my name.  A month ago, I sent my material to Jeff.  He read my entire proposal and first two chapters of my project.  I was also nervous.  Imagine!  Shaking hands, we introduced ourselves.  He leafed through a pile of papers and pushed them towards me.  “Please pull your material out.”  He wasn’t even organized.  At least I could blame my hesitation on nerves and being an armature writer.  He has decades of experience.  I pulled out my pages and handed them to him.

                “What makes you an expert on suffering?  What are your qualifications?” His ton of disapproval enveloped the room.

                I listed my “qualifications” in my proposal but I humored him.  “I have watched those around me suffer as I myself have suffered.”

                “Are you a psychologist?” 

                “No.”  This completely threw me because I listed my degree. 

                “You don’t have the authority to write a project like this.  You can’t compete with someone with a PHD.”

                I have never intended to compete with doctors.  My goal is to write about stories and how through these stories we can learn skills to apply to our lives helping us still lead lives of purpose while in great amounts of physical, mental, or emotional pain.  I have always believed we can learn from literature.  Now I want to connect the dots.

                As we continued to talk, I felt smaller and less significant because I have no big initials behind my name.  Yet, I sat taller because I knew he was not the agent for me.  He seemed highly offended I pitched to him a piece with Christian stories in them.  He shook his head in disbelief at my idea of discussing that Eve and Adam suffered.  (Yes, there is a huge debate on if there even was an Adam and Eve, but remember I am working with story.)  Of course they suffered.  They physically were torn away from God.  They lost both their sons.  They most definitely suffered.

                Once we started talking about my autoimmune diseases, he said I am qualified to write about my experiences of suffering and the process I went through to turn my situation into something positive.  I needed to write a personal narrative, but I had to stay away from family topics.  He also stated I needed to find a Christian publisher.  Hum, why did he have religion as a category on his web-site then?

                I will admit that he did say one thing useful.  He stated my writing was choppy.  I most certainly agree.  Transitions have always been a downfall for me.  I also struggle to express exactly what I am trying to say with topics that are so close to my heart.  I also rush at times when I feel the need to just get it done.  I know these things.  In actuality, I shouldn’t have pitched this project, but at the time, I really had no other options.  I damned the torpedoes and I now know his publishing company is not for me.

                My aunt asked if his life has been “sunshine and roses.”  I actually think he suffers.  He mentioned that he believed some people are unable to be happy due to genes.  I don’t buy that.  Yes, chemical imbalances can cause depression.  I had this happen to me after two pregnancies.  I also think the way we are raised can play a part in how we deal with suffering, but with all of this, we can learn to overcome the obstacles of suffering.  He made a comment that if a person is happy they won’t strive for anything.  I disagree.  I am very happy; yet, I strive everyday to become a better writer.  So, really, I think his belief system is about as different as one can be from mine.  In fact, I suspect he may enjoy suffering to use it as a catalyst to propel him further.  At any rate, he is not the agent for me. 

Amazingly, I was quite humored by the entire meeting.  I came out of the classroom feeling good with myself for trying.  However, though I didn’t really like Jeff or think all he said had merit, I am still left with the typical doubts I have when being rejected.  Will anyone ever say I have what it takes to publish?  Am I wasting my time?  A college student just left my house.  He was here to have me edit his paper and I fear that I did it wrong.  Writing is such a fickle undertaking.  As one agent said, “I hate dogs.  If you have dog in your story, I will reject it.”  How do you stay sane with that kind of rejection? 

God is standing over my shoulder cheering me on.  He knows Jeff isn’t the right person to partner up with for this project.  I can stay sane with Him helping me along the way.  When I start to feel blocked, He will give my husband or one of my readers (family and friends) the right words to keep me working.  In fact, one suggested I put some Bailey’s in my coffee.  I think I will do just that.

While thinking about this small event in my life and the project, a new direction for my story unfolded.  I had named the book The Positive in Suffering.  I didn’t like it, but that is what came to me when I sent the proposal.  The new idea is Finding Perseverance through Story.  I love this so much better.  Instead of concentrating on the negativity of suffering, I will focus on perseverance despite suffering.  Yes, this had always been the plan, but the focus of the title is so much clearer.  Thank you Lord!!!

Blessing to you all.

Quote from Merlyn

                Last night, as I was reading myself to sleep, I came across this quote.  “The best thing for being sad,” replied Merlyn, beginning to puff and blow, “is to learn something.  That is the only thing that never fails.” By T.H. White, The Once and Future King, page 171.  The reason Merlyn says this is to help young Arthur get over his moping that his friend Kay is becoming a knight and leaving him behind.  I think Merlyn is spot on.

                When I medically retired from the military, losing my job, and needing to recuperate, I knew if I didn’t do something new I would become depressed or sad.  I loved my job.  I loved my life.  I was being left behind by my colleagues.  I didn’t want to be at home 24/7, but I also knew home is exactly where I needed to be to start feeling better and be able to be the mom I used to be before my health problems entered my life.  I turned to music.  Growing up, I loved choir and band.  I played five different instruments.  For years I had talked about learning the piano, so I found an instructor and started learning.  Lessons not only taught me a new skill (well, not quite a skill) but it also gave me a place to go every week and a goal to work towards.  I was pleasantly surprised to enjoy my first ten months of retirement.  Learning can help us through the rough times.

                Blessings to you all.