Detours? I’ve lost count.
Despite, or maybe because of them, my twenty-year writing apprenticeship has birthed a book! The New Year and new paths beckon.
Following several detours with my publisher—overseen by the Author of all-things-good for my growth—UPS delivers my presentation copy. It’s beautiful.
I open it on the winter solstice, the shortest day and longest night of the year. Which seems fitting. Fruition is fleeting. (I hold a souvenir of the path I have walked.)
The extra long night ahead invites thanksgiving and deep rest—before book launch efforts commence (more on this in another post).
So, in view of uncharted paths ahead, am I making resolutions?
No.
Stories which show me the next step, that’s what I want.
Take the little family who outruns the long reach of a madman via divine detour, to Egypt . . .
A Very Mary Christmas
Joseph wakes her gently. “Mary, we have to go. It’s not safe here.” By lantern light, he helps her re-swaddle Jesus.
Lashed to a tree, All Ears the Donkey snuffles, already weighed down with bedding, cooking pot, water jar. Joseph strokes the donkey’s muzzle, settles Mary behind those twitching ears. Hands up the child.
“Not a sound,” he whispers, finger to lips. Then he shoulders their woven pack crammed with tools, bowls, spoons, salt wrapped in a twist of linen, aloes, a comb, soft linen rags.
Does Mary look back, over her shoulder? Maybe a motherly local woman brought them meals, advised her on nursing, burping, swaddling.
No time now to say goodbye, or a last thank you.
All Ears carries her and the baby through her longest night yet.
Who knows what’s ahead, where and how they’ll live?—if they evade Herod’s men.
Unknown language and customs—can they learn to blend in? How long will they have to stay? How long before her parents see Jesus?
Will she watch patient Joseph trudge home, unpaid, day after day? Maybe Jesus will nap a lot so she can take in washing and mending.
Stony miles unwind before them. She shifts the baby to ease her cramped arms. She hopes that when she walks to the new village well, she can balance Jesus and her water jar.
Mary knows how to carry on. She knows about nurturing hope, carrying secrets.
Her story instructs us, wherever our paths and detours lead.
Mary, if she could speak today: on detours
You carry God’s gift wherever you must—this small goodness divinely planted inside your mind, or deep in your belly.
The gift tears you open. There will be scars. Cradle it all, knowing the gift always starts leaving your care long before you feel ready.
Be it child, or brainchild, this creation is God-breathed: Offer your work to the world, to revive a fraction of its lost hope.
Laurie, who can speak today: on worry
Friends, it’s human. Let’s view ourselves and our work with compassion, be it:
- those first wobbly steps
- those gradual outward journeys, and our growing lack of control
- separation, and our gift’s reception
Between the lines, Mary’s story suggests we never completely understand that which God births through us. Or the routes and divine detours required. This may be a mercy.
We surrender our gifts, little by little. Over and over.
It aches.
And it fills us beyond all we ever thought we could hold.
As you listen, think of a time you headed into the unknown and witnessed God’s direction, and intervention. Would you consider sharing a divine detour story? It just might embolden another reader, and this scaredy-cat author . . .
“What Child Is This?” —acoustic guitar, Bill Klein
Laurie-
You have found your voice. Lynn
Lynn, it seems so, at long last. Hearing this affirmation from you, who have known me so long, is a gift I treasure. Thank you, forever friend.
Totally beautiful!!!! Bill Klein, the finest acoustic guitarist i have ever worked…. and smiled…. and loved…. and gave hope……. to a world that so desperately, now more than ever……..needs that Child. God bless us everyone!!!!!!
Chris, reading a comment from you is like immersing in a super-juiced, bonafide 100% pure organic Spring Tonic. Thank you, my fountain-of-youth friend! I’ll make sure Bill sees this. And yes, God bless us, every one!
Holy detours, oh, my. Thank you once again, for an anointed reflection, and writing that glows like radiant jewels. I closed my eyes and listened to Bill’s guitar, and I revisited a number of detours in my life… My beloved creative verse writing instructor’s admonishment to “Publish or Perish”… Writing, writing, creating, with life, and life, and life offering beautiful detours every step of the way… My annual resolution to “Get more organized” (so I could get going with tipping toward publishing and showing my artwork…), but the resolution making me laugh, the older I get. I couldn’t seem to organize myself out of a wet paper bag!!! And then Bill’s music ended, and I opened my eyes to see a reflection of my sleepy face in the dark screen of my iPhone. 2016 has arrived… Tonight I have six sculptures and three paintings on display at my local gallery for a “First Friday” opening. My “brainchildren” are being launched! I’m signed up for a class for six months of professional artistic development. Happy New Year!
Pacia, congratulations! Blessings on those pieces, may they find good homes. I wish I could stroll through that exhibit. Will you post photos on FB? I salute your plans and dreams. Your upcoming class sounds fabulous. (Your wet paper bag image made me laugh. Sometimes I feel that way too.) May you and your family and your new work flourish in 2016!!
Laurie, there have been many detours over my life, A most recent one involved retiring with a retirement to cover the next 10 years – and free time to pursue what seemed to be God’s plan. Within two weeks time period, things changed dramatically and our plans went up in smoke. still recovering, but in a good place after 2 1/2 years. My plans for retirement and a lot of my identity and who I thought I had been and would be was gone. What I will be and do with my retirement years has changed with new desires and focus. so there you go…a detour and we’re still left wondering sometimes. sometimes sad, sometimes anger surfaces and the hurt, yet we have grown in ways we didn’t know we needed to grow. sometimes I can’t figure out how it was “good” for us, yet I am at a place where I have to lean into the mystery of a God who sometimes says yes and sometimes says no……and stop trying to find theological answers for things that happen.
Carol, thank you for sharing this potent and sobering story. It sounds like an arduous season, yet here you are writing: “We have grown in ways we didn’t know we needed to grow.” I see your valiant spirit shining through, despite past shocks and disappointment. And now there are “new desires and focus.” You remind me of the priceless wealth in waiting. This line really resonates with me as the crux of the kind of faith I too want to embody—no matter what: “Yet I am at a place where I have to lean into the mystery of a God who sometimes says yes and sometimes says no…”
Laurie, when do we ever really know what will happen? Even if Mary and Joseph hadn’t had to flee to Egypt, something else unforeseen could and likely would have happened. So much of life is divine detours, or detours coming from evil. What I have seen in my own life is what Joseph so eloquently says, “What you meant for edit, God caused to be good.” He has done in me more times than I can count. When my husband died. When we had a motorcycle accident. When I was really sick. It is the detours that build our character.
Happy new year. Here’s to dealing with the detours with grace.
Kathleen, thank you for being a living testament of God’s faithfulness and grace despite devastation—heartrending, scary, exhausting loss. Your sterling character shines through your writing and music and teaching. You encourage me no end! May your New Year be powerfully blessed!
Congratulations on the book!!!
I look forward to sharing Detours with you in 2016. Happy New Year and Many Blessings.
Dear Dana, Happy New Year to you, and yes, here’s to toasting our detours, thoroughly and often!
Laurie, this is such a lovely re-rendering of the flight into Egypt–fleshed out in all its true beauty. Divine detours indeed. I think I’ll just frame these words:
“You carry God’s gift wherever you must—this small goodness divinely planted inside your mind, or deep in your belly.
The gift tears you open. There will be scars. Cradle all, knowing the gift always starts leaving your care long before you feel ready.
Be it child, or brainchild, this creation is God-breathed: Offer your work to the world, to revive a fraction of its lost hope.”
I look forward to being a part of the birthing process of your book–Happy New Year!
Dear Jody, thank you. I’ve just now been detoured by the unfortunate trail of a sick dog (and a very bad attitude—mine), and you speaking Mary’s words back to me (as I escape the fumes) re-focuses me on gratitude and the goodness ahead. And thank you so much for anticipating the book and sharing the journey with me!