So I'm back to cogitating on this whole subject of writing, which becomes increasingly complex as I gain understanding through my connection with Jerry Jenkins Writers Guild. It has been wonderfully informative, but at the same time, rather disheartening. Jerry strongly discourages all of us "blooming authors" for the most part to avoid self-publishing. He says good writing is the key to getting published by traditional publishing companies. Then, of course, one has to build a platform or a tribe (gain followers), get shorter articles published first in magazines or other people's blogs, and build up one's own blog with a host of followers. I say, "Good luck with THAT." OK, I'm supposed to focus on ONE thing first, so I guess I'll do that with this feeble, futile, fumbling attempt at blogging. No, scratch all that! Gotta stay positive.
By the way, I'm still plugging away at my memoir, which might have the title, "The Crystal Bell of God's Protection" or something like that. I'll keep everyone posted...
Here's another one of my journal entries from long ago (from the date, I probably was the new mother of Baby Danny):
1974
"Lord, here I am in this cluttered room called 'daily
life'—so many busy, though good things to do and in the midst of it all, a
door—the entrance into your Presence. There you are, waiting for me, but the
door is small and in the clutter, I pass by, always thinking 'I’ll go in' but
continually distracted by the duties in this room. Beyond the door there is
Peace, Quiet, Rest, Communion with You—just by turning the knob, opening the
door, and entering. I can close it again on everything else, and just experience
the blessedness of an hour with you.
There’s no need to ask you to help me enter—the door is there. All I need to do
is open it. You’re waiting for me.
You are asking for an obedient heart—give me that kind of
heart, Lord. I can’t promise you obedience if you don’t do it. I can’t live a
life of faith if you don’t plant faith within me; I place absolutely no
confidence in myself. It is only your grace that will bring me through.
Increase that spark until I become a white-hot flame that can’t be quenched.
Draw me above the realm of enjoying your blessings, to the place of enjoying
YOU.
Lord, your promise is like a great mountain before me. Yet
every time I climb the next hill I find there are yet more hills between me and
the mountain. Someday I will reach it, in your time and way. There are no
short-cuts. You are taking me from faith to faith—the hills yet to be climbed."
Forty plus years later, it's still true. If anything, there are more distractions than ever. Now, no longer a mommy of a tiny baby, I'm a grandma. Still needing to open that door. He always waits...
