Letters to Myself

Letters to Myself

It was as if a ten-year-old had slipped into the classroom. She sounded joyful, but had to pause. Deep breaths, long exhales…and then tears.

“You love the sea. You love finding things on the beach, the smell of oil on tugboats, the wheelhouse, watching your Dad work, navigating. You love everything about boats—the engines, hull, decks, galley, cabins, crew, & more. You love sailboats. You love going on trips on the sea. The sea is in your blood.”

Her voice was childlike, but also insistent.

“Remember when you used to play 4-square, baseball, basketball, imaginary games, space adventures, games in the field, fish, build forts, talk about God with friends, sit in the trees, search for pretty rocks?”

She spoke as if she knew her very well. 

“You know everyone’s name in the church. You talk with people others ignore. You know that everyone is special and somehow others have forgotten this. You connect people with others. You know about people because you ask questions. You include people. You like to play board games and other games with family and friends. You feel what others feel. You don’t always know what’s going on or why someone feels good, bad, depressed, etc. But, you can feel it.”

Her words came from that “knowing” place, deep inside. The same way God knows things about us.

“Your soft heart sees what others sometimes ignore. You see the loneliness in older couples that have lost their families or spouses. You see the person who’s ignored. You also see the details that are overlooked. You see when people are overlooked. You see others grow old and wonder where they went off track in life. You see many people lose a sense of wonder, curiosity, friendliness, and imagination. Keep these things in your heart, even when you grow old.”

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These excerpts came from a letter written by my friend, Julie Lanaker. It’s part of a creative writing project I’m teaching at Journey Church called, “Letters to Myself.” Basically you write two letters–and thenContinue reading

Signposts – Part VI

Signposts – Part VI

We are intricately woven into an orderly framework designed by God. From time to time, we get to see a glimpse of it. Here is another amazing example…

In 2006, Cecil Murphey, one of my writing mentors, told me I should find a copy of Letters by a Modern Mystic, by Frank Laubach. He knew I was working on my book and felt my writing was similar to Laubach’s. Originally published in 1937, the book was currently out-of-print. I gave up too easily.

The summer of 2007, I traveled to Cleveland to help my parents move. My mother and I were sorting through their books, deciding what to keep or give away. I came across several works by Frank Laubach and immediately asked her if she happened to have a copy of Letters by a Modern Mystic. She didn’t think so. A conversation followed:

“Mom, how did you come across this author?” I asked. “I’ve never heard of him, until recently. A writing friend told me to find that book.”

“My mother and father knew him,” she said.

I couldn’t believe my ears. “You’re kidding!”

“You remember John Peters, the founder of World Neighbors?” she asked.

“Sure.” I nodded. “Nana and Pops knew him through their church in Columbus, right?”

“Yes,” she said. “Well, Frank Laubach and John Peters were contemporaries in the mission world. They were also friends.”

“No way!” What a small-world coincidence.

My mother handed me a stack of books for the giveaway pile. “In fact,” she continued, “you were too little to remember this, but those two men came to our house on Maplewood Road. They stayed the night with us.”

“What?” I looked at her straight on.

“It’s true. And Mr. Laubach brought a blow-up globe of the world for you. He inflated it and set you on top of it. You just laughed and laughed.”

I was stunned. Though I had no memory of it, my life had actually intersected with this man. His present felt symbolic to me. Was it chance? Or was it God.

The next spring, my daughter and her husband were packing up their things in Portland, Oregon to move to Montana. I flew out to help. My son-in-law’s mother, Terry, also came. I’ll never forget the moment she walked into their apartment. After exchanging hugs, Terry said that she and her husband, Richard, had been reading an amazing book together. When they finished it, they both thought that I should have the book. The writing reminded them of me. She pulled out a copy of Letters by a Modern Mystic, by Frank Laubach. His son, Robert Laubach, had just released a smaller version of the original book.

I couldn’t believe my eyes. God had my attention now…Continue reading

Signposts – Part V

Signposts – Part V

A tapestry, yes, something like that. A fabric with woven design—varied and intricate. And each interlaced thread part of a developing picture. I’m trying to describe my life, but specifically my life with God.

So far, I’ve mentioned some of the threads—how God led me into the writing life through a miraculous healing, several vivid dreams, a message in a dictionary, and prophetic words from both a pastor and a stranger. God made it exceedingly clear that He wanted me to write. But more importantly, He wanted me to unpack the mystery of intimacy with Him through simple stories.

I am no one, really. A Montana housewife. A person who loves to swim and play piano. A painter who dabbles on canvas to make Van Gogh-like landscapes. A cook with a pretty good chocolate sauce recipe. A feeder of birds—always watching for bluebirds, hummingbirds and chickadees. A wife, daughter, sister, mother and friend.

I’m not an authority, an expert, or a theologian. I don’t write from that kind of platform. I am an ordinary person with real experiences to share. Woven together, they form a story of a living God in a tangible world.

So I began to write and simultaneously discovered just how real God could be, even after twenty-five years of being a Christian.Continue reading