On Hearing a Story

When you like to write, you sometimes get a teensy bit of a God-complex about your story. You know every tiny detail of every word, thought, and interaction every one of your characters will have from beginning to end.
And then you start to write.
And it allllll falls apart.
I was telling a friend of mine that I am going to do Nanowrimo and convincing her to do it with me, and as we were talking about it I gave her the synopsis of my plot, using your average filler "blah-blah-blah" for the parts i wasn't entirely clear on. When she teased me about it I pronounced my wording epic, and added that I didn't know yet whether the end of the book I've chosen to write is going to be poignant and haunting or sweet and charming. This is what she said:
"I guess it might be one of those instances where you won't know until the end. Let the story speak to you.
And if it says "blah-blah-blah" hold out for something a bit more profound. Because no, it is not epic."

Making the world

I am still sick. I have half a voice. I went to a fabulous training on POA/guardianship this afternoon. I had orange chicken and white rice for lunch. My lungs feel like bricks. I wish I had cable so I could watch the Psych premiere.
The sun is setting. My favorite candle is burning on the table. There is no greater joy than learning the one thing that suddenly makes an answer spark out at you.
I am making my world more beautiful by the eyes with which I choose to see it.

live the dream

What do your dreams look like?
Dreams are a hard thing to nail down.
So many things are impossible, no matter how much people tell you to just follow them, some things really are impractical, irresponsible, or some other combination of unrealities.

I know my dream is to serve people. I know my passion is being with other people and meeting needs.
My dream used to be going overseas to work, to dive into those big situations.
But what happens when your dreams and your heart don't line up?
My dreams are big.
My heart belongs to home.

I want to someday climb to the top of the Eiffel tower and wrap my arms around someone I love and dream that we own the world together.

I want to take words, my words, and reach inside of someone and reveal something they never saw before.
I want to bring a marvel.

I love books.
I love fall and sunshine and playing the piano and coffee and reading and laughing and making other people happy.
I love the thing I've had just a few times in my life: the moment when you dive in and believe so deeply in what you are doing that everything else is just that something extra. The times when life takes on a glow, when you can pour your heart out and still find it full.

Here's what I know.
Somehow, somewhere in this world, there is a way to combine the things I love:

being sunshine
Books
The elderly
joy
passion
playing piano
words
hope
companionship
meeting physical needs
kids
meeting new people
variety
making people feel welcome
restoration
the great cause


Together, into some kind of perfect God-given whole.
But how do I find it?

 

I've always taken this verse to mean that, if I let Him, He will clear away all the many little distractions that come along: that in the end, the path He takes me on will be the perfect one, and He alone will show me the true desires He placed deep inside my heart.