Festival of Faith & Writers

I keep trying to convince anyone I see, know, or meet on the street to go to the Festival of Faith and Writers Conference at Calvin College in Grand Rapids, April 10th to 12th. To avoid the "Writers" part, I tell people they can just be readers, because many people who attend, do so for the authors and discussions and stories of 100's of great voices. I secondly tell them they don't really have to have "Faith," and brag that Anne Lamott is coming, because everyone loves Anne Lamott. I also mention the last conference, which featured people like Marilyn Robinson, Jonathan Saffron For, and Ann Voscamp.

This is the irony of my own story as I purchase "Stitches," Lamott's new book in preparation for the conference, which I still need to sign up for. I flipped through a few pages of that book and also, "Help, Wow, Thanks" and land in the vague acknowledgments of God, when her first pages say things like, I don't know much about God and maybe God has meaning in my life. It makes me pause before buying, which I do eventually do.

I hate the way I choose to skirt and avoid and pretend my faith, to avoid labels and association with rigid or labeled Theologians. I am always writing between the lines about why or how or what makes me believe, in such a way as to understand how one goes from ME as my own god, to believing enough to follow Jesus. I look at people who I admire in the church and think, why do you believe, and in the next moment at others to say, "why don't you believe." This always leads back to what makes me decide on Christ's death and resurrection as the crux of my own identity, my own ability to interpret God in the stars, to creating my arch nemesis in his image, and to pause before stepping on the first floor to ask God for a bigger view of love.

 My three year old came home from church yesterday with colorful paper chain links that said the following, "I'm thankful for's," with blue marker words, "my brother," on one, and "for piggies, kitties and dogs," on the second. The other six were blank. I thought, how nice, this is thanksgiving preparation. He looked at me and said, "God puts people in prison," and stuck his hands on the end chains, to which I said, "What?" My first response was, "God doesn't put people in prison." He then said "they have wood on their feet."  It made me nod as I thought, oh some disciple or follower must have been put in prison in the story they read. But who put them there and why, maybe it was in some way God?

I am in awe of the Bible stories that are all about people wanting to kill Christians. Why hate so extremely? 11 of the 12 disciples are murdered, and the last one John sits as a prisoner on an island writing letters towards the end of the New Testament. What of his belief and response to God? Obedience.

I started reading the Count of Monte Christo two years ago and am about half way at this point. It feels like hell to watch The Count spend hours calculating people's intentions and trying to help them fall into the darkest holes of hate, murder and greed and evil within themselves. I suppose that is the opposite in my mind of The Count living in prison with a man who loves him and believes in him. Where would he be best served? In relationships that are real! Not to spoil the ending, but my husband keeps telling me that it is worth reading, meaning there must be some redemption and better that comes of all the heartache.

I suppose this is where I end this post, both with the question to you of why you believe and what you pit your choices on, not just what you know or others tell you, but the moments that you jump in or out of choosing to trust another with your life.

Oh, and you should definitely go to the Faith and Writers Conference!!!

NanoWriMo- Take Four

Another year has past and today is the start of my fourth attempt to write many words over the month of November. I am already feeling defeated as I consider the new chaos that 1667 words a day creates for everything else. I consider characters, my favorite hobbies, running, guitar, camping and trying to incorporate my life onto the written page. Is that possible?

Over the month of November I read the new Jeannette Walls book, Silver Star, half of When Women Were Birds, finished Dave Eggers, Hologram for the King and Zeitoun, and several essays by David Sedaris. I keep wondering what they have to offer my work, what I love about their work that I can duplicate.

One thing I love is how much these authors seem to experience moments. They see their past and present as a field of wonder to be mined and appreciated. There is wild chance involved, based on each person they encounter, each location. Their experiences are shaped by bumping into others with stories, people with whole worlds inside themselves. For me kids with teachers and classmates, a husband with emotional patients, my neighbors the day after Halloween and the yes's and no's to be said to their dinner invitations (3 + for tonight), events for the weekend and my ability to make good choices. Do I apply for a third year to MFA programs? Do I write this novel? Do I host Thanksgiving, Christmas? Go to Chicago next week, when my husband has time off from clinical duties?

I realized yesterday that Chaos might be my idol. I cling to uncertainty as an excuse for not listening to what is important to me. My therapist asked me if I pray for clarity in my own mission. I don't even know if I can. That would mean believing I had one and then working towards it. But just realizing how foreign the request is, I am beginning to believe in praying it. Trying to trust God to provide me with a mission, pursuit of work and life with open hands and belief that I am worthy and capable of living out a calling.

I pray today that my characters will move me to see what God has provided. May he reveal my identity in him and make clear how I can experience joy in living in his wake.