The Sheepish Scribe

I know why older women don’t have natural long hair. You cannot buy bobby pins in gray. They come in black or gold. Not gray. As we age, we are held hostage by an industry that dictates the length and/or the color of our tresses.

I smell a conspiracy! I suspect that Miss Clairol has achieved a coup with a hostile takeover of the bobby pin industry.

Kudos to the brave women out there who dare to defy this type of oppression. Long live your gorgeous gray locks!

For a change of pace and a bit of writing fun, I'm trying my hand at writing a Christian romance novel. I've read many romance novels over the years, Christian and secular. I think I understand the basic mechanics of what makes a romance work. So how hard can it be?

On the one hand, it's like any other type of writing.

Step one - position butt in chair
Step two - place fingers on keyboard
Step three - ignore all the other things left unfinished around the house and farm
Step four - let the story flow

Then comes the ticklish part, how to balance "romance" with Christian values. Everyone knows the steamy romance covers gracing today's bookshelves. The scantily clad, buxom woman falling back over the arm of some impossibly handsome man with no chest hair. The Christian romance of today typically includes an Amish buggy and someone wearing a prayer cap.

My goal in writing this book is to find a balance between those two extremes while incorporating some practical, down-to-earth characters women can relate to. Characters with flaws who make mistakes and grow through them while learning to rely on God. Don't look for Miss Perfect or Mister Incredible in my story. They won't be there. But hopefully you'll find my characters believable, real... human.

This year, the first five and half months of it, have proven difficult for me health-wise. Fighting off one virulent germ after another, or so I thought, it appeared I had slain the final dragon... until last Tuesday. Despite my determination to remain healthy, the dreaded germ reared its ugly head once more.

In an unusual move for me, I visited my doctor the next day. Apparently I have been fighting the very same germ over and over without fully conquering it. As a result, it percolated in my lungs and festered into a case of pneumonia.

Ordered to go home and stay there, armed with industrial strength antibiotics and herbal teas, I prepared myself to whip this nuisance in record time. Yeah. I've never had pneumonia before and was woefully uneducated concerning what would follow. I'll spare all the details of expelling noxious bodily fluids and sizzling fevers to mention that the sounds emanating from my chest could only be described as the death throes of an aging bagpipe.

My plans to plant the garden Saturday came and went. Ditto for Sunday. Ditto for today, Monday. But I think I'll be back at work tomorrow and hopefully in my garden by week's end.

Jeff, our son, sang "When Momma Prayed" in church this morning for Mother's Day... and for me. It was the best Mother's Day gift ever!

For this mom, it just doesn't get any better than this:
"I have no greater joy than this, to hear of my children walking in the truth."
3 John 1:4

I discovered this completely by accident just yesterday. Pulling a load of wet laundry from my washer and heaving it over into the dryer, I heard an unidentifiable clatter in the belly of the dryer. Generally speaking, my laundry doesn't make that sound. I decided to investigate. Pawing through wads of wet shirts, a small object fell out and clattered again at my feet. Stuffing the wet mass back into the dryer I retrieved my flash drive that I had not realized was missing up to this point.

I did the obvious thing first, I went and looked at the place where I keep my flash drive to be sure it wasn't there and that this damp, black plastic bit wasn't an imposter. But no, my flash drive parking spot was empty. Crumbs. I gingerly put the little plastic memory device back in its normal resting place and decided to wait 24 hours for it to dry before slipping it back into my computer. Much to my delight and amazement, 24 hours later there were all my precious files, cleaned, pressed and waiting for me to search them out.

I shall sleep better tonight than I did last night, I'm sure, knowing my digital memory is intact and well - even if my neurological memory isn't. And while I have proven that you can, in fact, clean your flash drive in the washing machine, I do not recommend it. The sleepless night is hardly a fair trade for freshly laundered files. Note to self - do not put the flash drive in your pocket again... ever.

This old quilt is an example of a greater good. It's made from the scraps of other projects, the leftovers, the parts many people throw away. Those parts, all brought together and arranged in an orderly fashion, become something useful and beautiful.

We're all bits and pieces that God created for a purpose. My purpose is not the same as anyone else's. I am unique. Yet by myself, I can only accomplish that one purpose. When brought together within a fellowship of believers, I can accomplish so much more. When I take my place in the arrangement of my local church, when I fill the spot that needs filling, I become part of a larger whole.

When God looks down on His body of believers, is your scrap, your part, where it should be in His quilt? Do you fill both the purpose He made you for and the spot in the arrangement of His church that He left open for you? It's not always easy and it's not always clear just where our spot is. With prayer and with the help of the church, we can all come together into something useful and beautiful for Him.

In the last ten months I have filled my aging mind with numerous tidbits of knowledge concerning writing. I have pounded out tens of thousands of words on my sturdy laptop. I have combed the Internet for sources and stumped around my home town looking for more. I have, in short, turned myself into a writer. Not an author, I'm not ready for that yet, but a writer... most definitely.

What I lacked and what I needed to progress to the next level, was a work space. A writing space. A place to go create where my references and materials were close at hand. After several months of work, rearranging and reorganizing, I am now happily ensconced in my new writing space.

It's funny how the little things matter so much. I needed a bulletin board to keep all my notes in front of me. Check. I needed a chair comfortable for the long haul. Check. I needed room to move around and room to put out my reference materials. Check. I needed a floor mat so my chair could move freely on the carpet. Check. I needed a wonderful husband who didn't balk at a single change I was making. Check.

Thank you, Lord, for making all things possible.