To be honest, I have not yet had many experiences in my writing life. I still feel like a newbie in all this. It was only just over a year ago when I actually said these words: "I am a poet." I am becoming more and more comfortable with that and get so exhilarated when I write poetry. And I am so thankful God has opened that creative side of me and that I always find Him there.
That being said, I have realized just in the last couple of months that I am not a fiction novelist and I don't think I ever will be one. This revelation surprised me--at first I didn't want to even acknowledge it. You see, ever since I was a little girl, I have dreamed of writing a novel and have always carried a few plot ideas in my head. But I am taking an Advanced Fiction course right now and am already struggling with my first assignment: to write the first chapter of a fiction novel. I've started but none of it comes easy. Last week I heard my inner voice say, "I'd much rather be writing a poem." Where did THAT come from? And what do I do with it? So, I started pondering what that was all about.
At first, I was bummed. Did my dream of being a novelist just take a major fall out the window? I was somewhat confused...but then God affirmed that voice through a different window. I've been reading Sage Cohen's book, The Productive Writer. She is the voice of an author who wondered about her writing as a poet and so I listened. Early in the book she talks about finding your platform, that she had never considered that "poetry was platform worthy. Poetry was poetry, and I loved it and I read it and I wrote it -- but what was I going to say to the world about it?" A light came on when I realized that this was me and that this was God showing up with the right book from the right author at the right time to give me the right perspective. After that, I read the book through fresh eyes--through the eyes of a poet.
I cannot explain how emotional this epiphany was for me--my soul was soaring and free, liberated to follow its true passion. I am not sure what's going to happen with my writing course, (I wish
the university offered upper-level poetry courses but they don't) but
I'm not fretting. God will help me with it I know, because He has proven
to be faithful. So I trust.
And today, of all days, I am thankful: Thankful for a family that supports me in my writing; Thankful for InScribe and my writers' group that are always so encouraging; Thankful for God's guidance and direction in the past and in the future; Thankful for a country where I can write and share freely through the written word.
God reminds me daily that He is and will be with me as I pursue this passion. Every time I am inspired to write a poem, I know this to be true. Just a few mornings ago, an unusually warm fall morning, I was sitting outside on my deck with my morning coffee and heard a chickadee singing beautifully in my plum tree. I couldn't see it. It was hiding. But I could hear it and could feel the joy of its song. And then an old nursery rhyme came to mind:
"I'm hiding, I'm hiding
And no one knows where;
For all they can see is my
Toes and my hair..."
And then I thought about hiding and that I too was hiding, but not in the same sense as that bird. I am hiding in Jesus. So, I changed the words and even put it to a tune but for now, I'll just share the poem.
I'm Hiding, I'm Hiding
I'm hiding, I'm hiding and I'll tell you where,
In the sweet arms of Jesus, you'll find me there;
Come seek and hide with me, under His care,
I'm hiding, I'm hiding, I'll tell you where.
I'm hiding, I'm hiding, under His care,
With storms all around me, Jesus is there;
He holds me gently, He hears my prayer,
I'm hiding, I'm hiding, under His care.
I'm hiding, I'm hiding, come hide with me there,
For Jesus He loves you, He'll hear your prayer,
In trials and troubles, Your burden He'll bear,
We'll be hiding, sweet hiding, under His care.