God, The Original Redactor | Previous Challenge Entry

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TITLE: God, The Original Redactor | Previous Challenge Entry
By
06/01/10
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This morning the August air is weighty and thick with the promise of another scorching day. I have recently stepped up my writing efforts and I have been spending more time down by the river on days when my schedule permits; it is here I find my inspiration. Today the craggy ribs of a thinning river revel the ravages of weeks of blistering heat void of moisture. My writing has taken on the dehydration that surrounds me and my enthusiasm is as brittle as singed paper held too close to a flame.

I routinely send query letters to various editors of numerous magazines of which I feel could utilize some of my articles. I have begun to dread the mailbox, especially when I see an envelope addressed to me, by me. Each rejection leaves me empty like a scooped out melon, temporarily unable to challenge myself. I do eventually become ignited again and I am able to stoke my writing into to a modest flame. The times of rejection are the moments that I have had to remind myself of the faithfulness of God and His promise to me. I am striving to learn patience and recently my sessions at the river have turned into wonderful times of fellowship with the Lord, and I am learning to trust Him in all things.

It is mid-morning now as I sit by the river’s edge and watch a blue heron. He stands upon a rock, a lone sentry, patiently waiting for his reward and I am reminded that I, like the heron, need to be patient and to wait. I will take my time and look through eyes of faith for the reward that I know that God has for me. I do not know when, I do not know how, but I do know that God is able. My thoughts drift along with the rising heat off of the river and I am unable to attach a moment in time when I knew that I had to write.

For me, writing began as a therapeutic exercise after having everything in my world evaporate before my eyes. My father died, my daughter died and my husband left…it was a season of mourning and a time of great loss. First I began to keep a journal, this evolved into writing my prayers to God and before I realized it, I was writing poetry. Poetry allowed me write from the depths of my heart, to release my pain upon the page. It allowed me to rid myself of the shackles of grief and anger. The longer that I read God’s Word the more I began to see the beauty of God’s poetic expression in Psalms and the Songs of Solomon. The Bible is dispersed with God’s poetic voice.

My first publication was one of my poems. I had submitted several of my poems to a small press in Wisconsin, associated with the University of Wisconsin. The editor, a woman whose heart beats with a poetic rhythm, was so gracious to see some potential in my work and advised me in developing scenes and the use of language. She said that “good poetry uses language to actually say what one means without coming right out and saying it.” She made me believe in myself.

A good editor can see and smell potential, and many will have the desire to water the saplings and nurture them to maturity; rather than allow them to dry up and die. Editors want to publish just as much as writers desire to be published. In times of economic drought it becomes more difficult, but not impossible.

I shake off my reverie like the sweat from my brow and wonder where God is leading me now? I have allowed myself to be malleable and submissive to His will as I delve into the world of writing, careful not to get ahead of Him…suddenly, I see the heron bob his head into the river and come up with a small fish in his bill. I am awed by his speed and grateful that his endurance yielded fruit. Smiling to myself, I am reminded that I am not to despise small beginnings; God does indeed have something more.

The heat has now absorbed my energy and as I prepare to leave I have the revelation that God is the original redactor. He edited the best book ever written, The Bible, and He is ever ready to guide us in our literary pursuits.

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