in which I determine to write

I've always thought I'd write books someday. It only seemed natural, given how much I love to read them. My major at Whitworth was English with the emphasis placed on writing. It was the most natural track in the world for me. I won a little writing scholarship there and had an encouraging advisor who told me firmly, as I was talking with him about wanting to be a writer someday, that I was already a writer; it was only a matter of time before I published something. It was a bit of a turning point as I realized that yes, he was right, this was simply who I was.

But God took me to Prairie and I ended up with a different degree altogether. I suppose I've added to my writing resume in some ways by being the chief editor of the college yearbook and newspaper. I've dabbled in exploring thoughts and themes on this blog and my previous one. But actual writing, good writing, is not something that I have made time for.

Five years ago, though, before we moved back to Idaho, the Lord impressed on my heart the clear outline of an entire book. Something I would never have dreamed to write about. But I knew it was from Him. I was astonished and elated. Themes and direction have never been my strong point, yet here was the Lord giving me the entire book outline, just wanting me to write it down and fill in the storyline.

But we were busy. God told us to move to Idaho, and we did, and we went through a miscarriage and the ripping away of dreams and the loss of the home that was my inheritance. Life in our hometown was painful and we moved away, lost and confused. Since then we have moved around to more homes and have had three babies and life has been happening fast and wonderfully. And I have not made time in the margins to write that story the Lord has given me.

I've been stepping around it for years. Often I've forgotten about it altogether; when I remember, I have been gun-shy. And it's harder to start something when it's already been put off for so long.
I did start it at some point and every six months or so I add three or four paragraphs and then set it aside again. I've allowed my fears and inabilities to loom large, have let my perfectionism increase to the point of not wanting to add a single sentence to my book. What if I mess it up? I haven't had the training to do a good job of this. And I don't have time to write; I want to have hours at a time when I write, not just ten or twenty minutes; this is a deep subject with complicated historical themes which I don't understand; I don't have the capacity to research it well and also write it well; what if I mess it up? I can't even find time to write down thoughts on my blog; how could I ever find time to write a whole book?

All of which are ways to say no to God. And so it has hobbled me in my walk with the Lord, because I have not been obedient. Once I was in the habit of obeying Him faithfully, but now for years my vision has been cloudy and I have known it was because I was not doing this thing. Sometimes I have been in tears about it; often God and I have talked about it, Him gently urging while I squirm away, distracted like Moses by my own limitations. He has whispered of it to me again, spoken to me through sermons and life and Scripture and books and other people, wooed me to come to Him, to trust that He will give me the time to do this thing. And between nursing babies and washing clothes I have read about discipline, have posted verses and quotations on my wall about how it is better to obey blunderingly than not at all, have quietly felt my soul resonating with the writers whose works I read, who know too how hard it is to make yourself sit down and do the thing already.

A small part of it, or at least a part that I have used as an excuse, was lacking a place to write. When I resigned from my job in Utah, my co-workers put together a celebration (like a retirement party, actually) and gave me a gift card with which I bought a writing desk for the purpose of writing this book. But it has mocked me, because it has followed us from house to house and has been the catch-all computer desk, never having that mystical quality that actually draws a person to sit down there and write a book.

Until today.

Today I sit at my writing desk. It is in a room of it's own for the first time. Our new home has an office space, necessary for Keith as he prepares to return to college full-time. And in that space I have planted my writing desk. It is clean and clear and has a beautiful view and I have a comfortable chair and the door is closed and Keith has given me a bit of time just to write.

And so I am sitting at this desk for the first time since we moved and I am writing. And it may take me five more years to get the words of my book written down. I may not do a good job of writing it. I may never find a publisher. If I do find a publisher, my book may end up completely obscure or be harshly judged and misunderstood.

But I honestly don't care. I'm not writing it because I want fame and fortune. I'm writing it because I want to obey God in this matter and move on with my life. I know the fears will crop up again but the excuses cannot, because I do have a space to write in now and I can make this happen. Not a day at a time, but I can find an hour at a time if I work at it. I can do this.

So. It is humbling to determine to do this, humbling to actually add imperfect words to the perfect vision, because if I ever share them or if my book is ever finished, it's essentially like saying, this is it. This is what I am best at, and here is my best work. And if people rip it apart, it will hurt. If I paint or do something else which is not my calling, so to speak, it doesn't really bother me if others dislike my work, because it's not so much at my core, and I can sort of say, well, I'm not really an artist, I just happened to paint a few paintings. But writing is deeper and I have been pregnant with this story for such a long time and the labor to bring it forth may be arduous and messy. But it will also be worth it.

I know this is worth doing because God has called me to do it. I realize now that if He hadn't given me this task Himself, I would never work up the courage to do it. So I'm glad that He has, and I'm choosing to tackle it.

I share all of this here because... well, because I've made reference to my book now and then, but I just wanted to lay it all out, to be open about it so that I can also make reference to it again and maybe have some accountability and encouragement along the way, because I really need it. And because I'm sitting here at my writing desk and it is beautiful and the snow is fresh and lovely and I am excited and inspired and determined to do this thing.