Everyone I know is fighting off some kind of virus. Some even manage to scare me by saying, “Yeah, the doc says it’s probably swine flu.” So I’ve stayed home today, not feeling well, not willing to expose someone else. And while I’m rattling around the office, I am somehow in a rotten, low-down no-good funk. It’s OK if you tune me out. I’m trying to cheer myself up. I remember a few lines from an essay I wrote for Making Peace With a Dangerous God: “A safe God can’t fend off evil; can’t deliver awesome love. Safety only guarantees limited growth, a narrow view. To tackle life’s problems, monumental or trivial, I need this terrible God, the one who’s daring and risky, who allows me to grapple with Him, feel around in the dark for Him.”
And later: “A pink morning light weaves itself around leafless trees and settles, prism-like on my fingers. A filagree of beauty and possibility spreads before me. Sunrise won’t last long. I hold my breath as the pinks deepen to orange. If I listen long enough will I notice that I possess peace?
I am still grappling, listening when the sunrise fades into plain Tuesday morning. I’m headed into it.”
Writing Tip for Today: When you are in the depths of writer kick-thyself-in-the-buttus and can’t write, well write anyway. Make it a good rant, and do a little screaming. Then look over your past work, the stuff someone said you were brilliant to write. Bask in that glow for a few minutes. Now, get your poor sore behind in the chair and pound out at least a page or two. You’ll be glad you did.
