Day 16 - October 31

I woke early this morning at the cabin, the knowledge pressing down on me that this was my last day, that I would be leaving after lunch, back to the rush of life at home.

So to work on the story!  As I've been wrestling with new chapters and with a fuller outline, I begin to see more solid shape, direction, and form.  Surrounded as I am by the Michigan woods, I find the imagery of the forest very apt right now:

The first stages of writing feel to me like I've wandered off the beaten path and gotten lost in a trackless patch of woods with no clear direction, only some vistas afar off, through the branches and brambles.  But how to get there?  What a mess.

Later, after living with and pummeling the story (and being pummeled by the characters), digging up some delightful scenes and pruning away extraneous details, the direction becomes clearer, the way more orderly, and eventually may even feel like this:

I am somewhere inbetween the two right now.  But thanks to the tranquility and quiet spaces of the past two days, I am closer to the clear path than I was.

An hour's cleaning leaves the Mother Lodge as immaculate as I found it.  I drive back home, sucked into the vortex of refugee needs, a chaotic dinner hour (punctuated by dozens of neighborhood toddlers crying "Trick or treat!" at our door, this being Halloween), piles of unwashed dishes, and long and cheerful conversations with the students.  Yes, I am home again.

Day 15 - October 30

Today I have my heart's desire:  a whole, complete day without structure.  Without time.  Ah, luxury.  I rise as dawn filters through the windows.  I have an apple and tea, read the Bible, go for the usual walk around the labyrinth.  I eat an enormous breakfast of egg and sauteed vegetables.

And now I can write.  I dip my toe into the story I'm writing, then paddle around a bit, then plunge in headfirst.  Hard work, but invigorating.

Another walk at midday, and then six more hours of writing, punctuated by the making of corn bread and roasted vegetables.  There is no one to tell me not to read or write while I'm eating supper, no one to frown at the dirty dishes piling up in the sink.  Only the story taking shape, chiseled out word by word, scene by scene.

I want this story to be a lantern, the way that the stories of my youth were lights to my imagination.  I want it to ring like a bell, sounding in the wilderness.  Well, I really just want it to be a really good story.

Night falls quickly in the north in late October.  The wind rubs trees together, and they creak and complain.  There are strange sounds in the darkness, like someone running across the roof or knocking at the door.  I recall the verse of the Psalm I read in the morning's clear light:

In peace will I both lay me down and sleep,
   for God alone makes me dwell in safety.

Day 14 - October 29

Zoom, zoom.  Clean the kitchen, shop at Costco, make cat food, make phone calls, pack, sort, organize.  Out the door and into the car by 1:30.  An hour and 15 minutes' drive, time to settle, to let the brain fluff blow away, to listen to the hum of the car engine and look at the bare, virtuous trees lifting their arms to the sky along Highway 131.  Till finally exit 159 comes into view, and I take my foot off the gas and coast off the highway.

To a place of uninterrupted solitude, quiet, and grace.  I drive the long, winding track through the pines, and park.  I step into the Mother Lodge, and it is clean and orderly.

The wood stove is already filled with fresh-cut logs and radiates warmth.  I stand and soak in the heat--the backside of my legs, my rear end, my spine.  Oh, the bliss.

Oh my Lord, I am fervently thankful for a place like this, where my ragged edges can fall away in the silence, where there is no voice, no need, no stir and movement.  Only the stillness.  Only solitude.  Pure and simple and healing.  Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Day 13 - October 28

Life can be too full of good things.  I skipped the James Bible study this morning before church.  I canceled small group this evening.  Life has been piling up, and I need a true day of rest.  Maybe this is what it's like to be 60--to be frazzled around the edges much of the time.  I will go to Morningstar tomorrow and spend two nights in a cabin, alone, silent, with my writing.  I can think of no greater pleasure right now.

Day 12 - October 27

Ernie + Phil

The puppy loves Phil--devotedly. completely.  He follows Phil everywhere.  He waits by the bathroom door during showers or other other activities.  He snoozes on the bed in the evening while Phil lies somnolent with the computer on his lap.  He frisks after Phil down the long sidewalk of Benjamin Street, never racing ahead, always at his heels, intent only on keeping his god in close proximity.

I get affection, yes.  But Phil gets devotion.  I will never measure up to the godlike status my husband has achieved with Ernie.

This does not bother me.  I have achieved goddess status with the cats.

It does make me wonder, though, about God and devotion.  Mine doesn't seem to measure up to Ernie's.

Day 11 - October 26

A quiet day of reading, reflection, prayer.  I previewed a video study on prayer for the church's small groups and began writing discussion questions to go along with the video sessions.  Writing questions for other people is easy.  Challenging others to grow and change is easy.

It was when I challenged myself--or rather, understood that God was challenging me--that I began to get some real benefit out of the day.  I left the comfortable place of telling others what to do, and allowed myself to be uncomfortably honest with God.

The upshot is that I'm beginning a reading plan that will get me through the Bible in a year.  Skimming and dipping does not give the depth and breadth of God's thought and nature needed for Spirit-directed prayer.  All too often recently I've come across verses and think, "Wow, John (or Paul or Isaiah or Mark) really said that?"

So, back to the Word in a daily, disciplined way.

Beyond the written page
I seek you, Lord.
My spirit pants for you,
O living Word.

Day 10 - October 25

We have a minor miracle going on here.  The new puppy, only 10 weeks old, pees and poops outside.  No accidents today. This is so unexpected.

The young technician who came to install our new dishwasher this morning took a look at the plumbing under the sink and said, "We're going to need a miracle."  He was referring to the near impossibility of matching the new Samsung plumbing to our old patchwork of original plumbing.  An hour later, he left with a smile on his face.  "Get your miracle?" I asked.

"We got it," he said.

The third miracle today was the gift of 80-degree October warmth, blessedly clear skies, and a day off from work--all occurring at the same time.

Well, one more miracle.  The Arabic student who was seriously displeased at our having brought home a puppy (most of our Arabic students are terrified of dogs) was on his hands and knees on the kitchen floor tonight, barking and trying to get Ernie to come to him.

It's the small miracles that make life interesting.  It's the big Miracle that makes life possible.