Some authors know right away in what genre they’ll write and the audience for whom they’ll work hard to prepare manuscripts. I admire those authors who stick with one heading, for I've always had trouble classifying my writing…a little this, a little that. When a particular interview gave me fodder for a little on-the-spot transformation (talk about impromptu), what I had planned to say was never said, yet the things I hadn't planned to say seemed to have already been spoken.
“What do you write?” the inquirer asked.
Something more categorically concrete should have come out of my mouth, such as romance, or political intrigue, or fantasy, but before I could formulate those thoughts the answer readily answered for me. It was already there. “I write forgiveness.”
“What does that mean? Who do you write for?”
Forgiveness literature is something that spans across all of humanity, regardless of where we tread in life. In that sense, I suppose I write for everyone. At the same time, I don’t think I write for everyone. My books wouldn't appeal to someone, say, who only wants fiction like their eggs, light and fluffy—not that there’s anything wrong with that.
Whatever the genre, the common thread for my writing is forgiveness. Forgiveness brings healing. That’s my focal point. There is much in this world that is broken. I don’t know why but I see it so much of the time, awareness that things, situations, people are hurting or distressed. Things need fixed. Forgiveness is like a fragrant balm that lingers, constantly reminding me that without it there would be no classification. Without it I’m not sure I’d write romance, or political intrigue, or fantasy, or anything at all. I write forgiveness fiction. The rest works itself out.
“People forgiven much are called to forgive much.”
“When we forgive…we free ourselves.”
—Pastor Brad Brinson
I want a t-shirt that says “I HAVE ISSUES.” It would serve as part of the 7 Steps to Humanity program. Geared especially for those in the political arena, for I've come to learn that politics is the Great Evil (late bloomer, I know…). Politics can turn the most mild-mannered, soft-spoken individual into Chief Butthead (apologies first to my dear mother for my use of the “B” word then to everyone else for behaving like one).
It’s like this. The next time you start to make a politically charged statement that has the potential to offend and/or hurt others, one might just point to the shirt, a silent reminder that you’re stepping out of bounds, and vice versa. I’ll be the first (hand raised) to commit to wearing one. This proposal could be a remedy for the shame of having to apologize to gobs of people or burying your head in the sand. A solution to save our society from dystopia. Think about it. We all wear the shirts and we become better, more conscientious people. People who value, respect, and uphold all humankind, regardless of background, race, sides, and conditions. We understand each other. We’re all in this together. Now imagine a sea of I HAVE ISSUES in Congress. Wow. Talk about humility. Simple, right?
It would never work.
The wish to purge my life of anything unused seems to have grown. In fact, the older I get the stronger the desire. With a fresh new season finally here, so is my amped version of “spring cleaning.” Some might already call me a sort of minimalist. I dislike untidiness. I have but a few boxes of keepsakes. Mostly, I don’t like to hang onto things – unless they’re books – and I don’t care for storage. Yet I could stand to give away more: items that swallow up space and weigh a person down. I’m fond of space. Minimalism is not completely what I’m living, but it’s something I fancy.
These days I find I’m reflecting much about certain friends from way back when, a painter and a musician, each successful in their chosen field, who had married and chose an uncluttered life. Instead of getting swept up in accessible opulence they held simplicity in high esteem. I truly valued visits and dinners at their place, not only for their exuberant friendship but for their lifestyle that left an impression on me.
With unencumbered style, these friends of mine enjoyed a unique yet modest home, along with a small selection of fine things, each item carefully chosen and having its proper place. Everything had a purpose and if something lost its purpose they got rid of it. Even their studios accommodating artwork and instruments reflected organization and tidiness. I suppose the only lavishness rested in the privacy they held behind a tree-lined buffer. For other than a few rows of fruit trees, a path through the forest, and a small yet lush vegetable garden, the spread of acreage was untamed, tucked away from the public, and magnificent.
My mind churns today as I think about them, my minimalist friends. I should have followed their example a little more closely over the years. But, if I can start at one little corner and work my way out, perhaps I can achieve what’s true to my inner nature. The prime notion here is that bigger isn't better and accumulation of “stuff” isn't all that important. People are. Relationships, events, making memories…taking pleasure in the moment, in the satisfaction of just existing. Spring has arrived. Enjoy the simplicity.
Full of allegories and metaphorical images, the Bible confers the Holy Spirit as a gentleman. I tend to think of him as such.
He might, at some point in our lives, implement something. I’m not saying he can’t. God is God. But for some reason, I see him more like somebody who waits quietly at the door, eager for the person on the other side to open. He may tap, but if that person doesn't want to open the door then he is respectfully silent, unconditionally loving, hopeful one day that individual will want him, and graciously waits to be invited before he draws near.
I adore this perceived aspect of the Holy Spirit and believe it’s a good model for many areas of life, the ins and outs, interactions, relationships, and career paths. Well mannered and considerate…a perfect gentleman.
Black Sheep, you are different not undesirable; misunderstood not disreputable. Honor is a power of the heart not a reflection of surroundings or surrounding attitudes. Your heart is strong. You do not fail, you climb. Failure is for those who do not move their hooves. Your hardy little even-toed hooves go, go, go! You ascend at your own pace. If you trip, you bleat, but you try again. Resilience. Among the scrutinizing eyes of your compeers I feel your pain, and yet I applaud—for there is no shame in being who you are or what God made you. No embarrassment, only delight. No shame, only honest pride. Some look at you and see deviation from the flock. I see straightforwardness.
Black Sheep, you are beautiful, and as you should be.
Define your goal and it will define you…
Change someone and you will be changed…
Forgiveness is free yet costly…
Seek faith while it is omnipresent…
Look for love and it will leave you for a better time…