Oh To Be Found

            I’m finishing up my second novel. I thought I would complete it with fifty chapters, but the story isn’t over yet as I am beginning chapter fifty-one. I’ve been working on this novel for about a year now. I’m not really sure why I’m having such trouble ending the book, but I’m pretty sure there are several factors here.

           

First, I don’t have a real publisher. I have tried four different publishing places, all of which are pretty much vanity presses. This means, I front the money, so they take no risk. They also don’t care how long it takes for my investment to actually become a product.

My latest book should have been completed months ago, but every time they send the document back for final proofing, I find a few more minor corrections. And each time, it takes them more than a month to make those corrections that would take me about 10 minutes to do.

I was so hopeful that this publisher would be the one.  Yet, when the priority for my work to be produced is so much at their obvious bottom of the barrel, it doesn’t take a genius to figure out they don’t really intend to promote my work.

The second reason I seem to be stalling on finishing my book is that I don’t really know how to end it. I keep writing, and more unfolds. I guess I’m just supposed to see where it leads me.

The publisher who did my last book was the worst ever. They took months and months to make minor corrections and didn’t make the corrections that I asked for. I hate the way the book looks. The layout is nothing like I wanted, but I got sick of waiting for them and just wanted it over. They also don’t seem to care at all about promoting my work. I received an email a few weeks ago that said they found a little time to devote to my book and would try marketing it again. Thanks so much for remembering you haven’t helped me recoup one cent of my work after two years!

I’m pretty frustrated.

I have lots more books stirring inside of me to write.

I have another children’s book waiting on the last few illustrations, and then there’s this novel, plus a bunch more on my mind.

I need a fairy godmother to just wave a wand and turn me into the princess writer I want to be.

I’m smiling as I read those words, because they are beyond silly.

What does it take to find the right person to know that I am a gold mine waiting to be uncovered?

Why Poison Ivy, Lord?

Poison Ivy has never been my friend.

Over the years, I have had dozens of horrendous cases of that oozy, relentlessly itchy rash all over me. It’s even been in my eye, causing it to swell completely shut. Twice.

After the sixth or seventh horrible case requiring a shot and more than three rounds of steroids, I made an effort to recognize what this insidious plant looks like. Since I love the woods, I figured it would be in my best interest to learn how to avoid this awful cause of such enormous suffering.

Small shoots of this nuisance appear out of nowhere in my flower beds every summer. I do my best to pull them up by the roots, and then wash multiple times with my special poison ivy soap.

I have come to hate this plant and would curse it every time I saw it.

This summer, our church’s youth group went on a mission trip to Tennessee. The house where my team was assigned was an entire farmland of poison ivy. I have never seen so much in one place before in all of my life.

One of the tasks we were asked to do was to clean out the back of shed that housed what turned out to be 90 bags of trash. In order to get to this spot, however, there was no way to avoid trampling on literally hundreds of poison ivy plants.

None of our teens complained even once about what they were walking through. Maybe they didn’t realize that every step they took was causing the urushiol oil from each plant underfoot to be released. This is the actual villain that causes the allergic reaction in most people. After my third trip through this mess, I knew we would need some divine intervention. 

This is when I got in God’s face. I was angry that He even made this stuff and wondered if He actually did or if was a result of the fall, but regardless, I pled mercy and protection over all of us as our kids performed these acts of love with nothing but pure servant hearts. I told Him that I knew it would be a total miracle if we each didn’t get a whopping case of poison ivy rash, but that I would surely give Him all the glory if he would keep us protected from this evil oil.

I did throw my shoes away after our week was over, not wanting to take any chances on packing those puppies in my suitcase. There had to be enough urushiol oil on them to give our entire town a complete itchy nightmare.

On my walk around our neighborhood, there is a wooded area that is also full of poison ivy (not nearly the same amount as this lady’s yard, but enough to be concerned).  During my morning time with Papa, I asked again, “Why, God? Why poison ivy? Did You actually create this stuff? Why would You do that?”

And I got an answer!  He told me that poison ivy is a reminder of how insidious evil can be. Poison ivy this time of year is lush and green and looks like any other normal plant. But lurking inside of its leaves lie the potential to cause immeasurable suffering.

If evil always looked awful, it would be easy to stay away from it. But evil is more often, a counterfeit of the truth. A counterfeit looks so close to the genuine, that it is very easy to be deceived.

As I gazed at this patch of poison ivy interspersed among the mayapples, dandilions, and other various grasses, I realized that if one was not alert, it would be so easy to miss. Poison Ivy is a real-life reminder of how satan, the deceiver and father of lies is right in our midst, waiting for an open door to catch us unaware.

I know all too well the unfortunate potential of carelessness around poison ivy. I also know beyond a shadow of a doubt how God performed a gigantic miracle by keeping the menacing urushiol oil from harming our teens as they poured their energy into being Jesus for someone they didn’t even know.

Now, I also know that poison ivy is a reminder that we need to be aware and alert because we have an enemy who is waiting for us not to notice.

I’m working on gratitude for poison ivy. That might just take a bit longer.

Layers Like an Onion

I know that healing and deliverance come in layers. Like an onion, it takes time to peel back each layer to fully cover in grace with the restoration found only through the blood of Jesus. It is a process after all.

I vividly remember over four decades ago, the first layer, when the spirit of suicide was supernaturally removed from me, bringing me back from the brink of death. Twice.

I also keenly recall Papa telling me that He was removing a spirit of bitterness from me. I could feel the spirit leaving me, and I could actually feel my gall bladder being restored to normal size. I remember Him teaching me that this bitterness spirit had resided a long time in the space that was supposed to house my gall bladder. As soon as the spirit left, I began to cry. This was such a foreign emotion to me, since bitterness causes one to stuff the emotions deeply inside, where sadness allows them to freely flow out. It took many years for me to get used to this new emotion involving tears that had been overruled for so long.

There were many more layers, healing upon healing, and just when I would think the process was done, another concern would rise to the surface to be dealt with.

A few months ago, I was healed of a spirit of trauma that, fifty years ago, had lodged itself through a trampoline injury entwined with the emotional pain of being the only camper at our Parent’s Visitation Day performance whose parents didn’t bother to come to see. I knew all of the logical reasons why they didn’t make the 6-hour trip to visit, but because they had always made a 12-hour trek to visit my brothers on Parents’ Day at their camp each summer, I felt rejected and never good-enough. Those feelings became trapped within this physical injury when I landed wrong on a maneuver I had just learned. I had no idea I had housed this uninvited being for half a century. So grateful to be rid of that. Thinking that the healing has finally been completed, I was shocked to learn this was not the case.

This past week, I was a chaperone for our youth group’s mission trip to Tennessee. I was totally unprepared for the pain from my own high school days to become resurrected. Being old enough to be these teen-agers’ grandmother, I was shocked to be reliving the exact same emotions I had during my own teen years. Feelings of insecurity, unworthiness, ridiculous comparisons, and thoughts of never being good-enough resurfaced—in full force!

At first, I was sucked into the feelings. In my mind, I was totally confused as to why I would be reacting to these ridiculous lies. I know I am made in His image. I know I am His precious princess warrior. I know I have been chosen and called with an amazing anointing on my life. How then could these lies become front and center once again as vividly as they had been more than four decades ago?

Obviously, the healing is not complete. My first reaction to this was incredulous disbelief, bordering on anger. All those years of doing the work to bring my brokenness to the foot of the cross somehow felt negated and somehow wasted.  But then, I remembered the onion.

One layer at a time, bit by bit, the peeling back of hurts and fiery darts are being restored to wholeness. I am claiming the sozo cleansing once and for all.

Not wanting to be caught off-guard again, I asked, if this is close to the end. I’m met with silence. I guess that means there are more layers ahead to peel away to complete healing.

My prayer is that each unveiling of yet another area needing the touch of Jesus will become easier, and that I will recognize what surfaces more and more quickly. 

Giving all of my layers to You, Papa. Until I’m completed into the person You designed me to be. Whole and perfected through Him.