When the Gift is Rain

July 1, 2017 By: Angela Parlin

*If you’re joining me from the Ladder to Rooftop newsletter, Welcome! This post is part of my series on finding beauty in the chaos of the Writer’s life. Find out more by clicking here. Subscribe here:

I sat down one breezy June afternoon to write this post, only I thought I was writing an entirely different post. My screened porch roof covered me, as it began to rain.

The rain made me weep.

And I felt this quiet little nudge. Go, stand in the rain.

Those words made me cry more, because I don’t venture out into the rain much. Ever. Why? Because I’m one of those consequence keepers. Because I think in details, and I think too much and I think too many steps ahead, and I’m hyper aware that x causes y, and I don’t usually enjoy y. So I avoid x.

Know what I mean?

Like I fixed my hair already today, and I don’t like wet hair. It makes me cold. And I don’t like wet clothes. I’ll need to change.

Anyway, who has time to sit and cry at the rain, or to stand in the rain and soak?

Who has time for tears or raindrops?

Despite my objections, I stood on my deck in the rain, and my tears transformed into laughter. I stretched out my hands, looked toward the sky and said, Thank you.

Then this deeply spiritual moment ended, on account of window banging behind me. Because maybe I’m growing little consequence keepers. My daughter yelled, MOM, WHAT ARE YOU DOING??? And then she and little brother joined me in the rain, where my girl screamed, “This is SO not like you!”

It wasn’t like me. She loved it.

The three of us skipped and laughed and the rain poured over us, and after a bit, they climbed down to the playset, where they happily ran and hollered about this fun. Then the rain dried up. The sun came out, and I stood out under its warmth. Thank you.

A minute later, it poured again.

The rain spilled down my cheeks, soaked my blue jeans, moved my heart. It wasn’t just the rain. It was the hand of God. He invited and cleansed and once again lifted me, using drops of rain I’ve avoided thousands of times before. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

Suddenly I wanted to run, to pray, to blare music throughout the house. I wanted to sit in the corner and turn it all into words. So I did. And then I wrote more words, and they fell like rain.

I’d been on an Artist’s Date with the Keeper of Raindrops.

And to think, I almost didn’t have the time…

Shake the World With Your Words

April 1, 2017 By: Angela Parlin

If you are visiting from the Ladder to Rooftop newsletter, Welcome!

Today I’m reposting one of my favorite poetry posts to encourage writers and those who think they may be called to write. If you would like to learn the best tips and instruction from a group of amazing writers, subscribe to the newsletter here:

Also see my page, Writer’s Guide, in the bar at the top. Now, enjoy these beautiful words…

Ode

by Arthur O’Shaughnessy

We are the music-makers,

And we are the dreamers of dreams,

Wandering by lone sea-breakers,

And sitting by desolate streams;

World-losers and world-forsakers,

On whom the pale moon gleams:

Yet we are the movers and shakers

Of the world for ever, it seems.

With wonderful deathless ditties,

We build up the world’s cities,

And out of a fabulous story

We fashion an empire’s glory:

One man with a dream, at pleasure,

Shall go forth and conquer a crown;

And three with a new song’s measure

Can trample an empire down.

We, in the ages lying

In the buried past of the earth,

Built Ninevah with our sighing,

And Babel itself with our mirth;

And o’erthrew them with prophesying

To the old of the new world’s worth;

For each age is a dream that is dying,

Or one that is coming to birth.

///////////

Arthur O’Shaughnessy died at 37.

After losing two infants and his wife, the English poet died of a chill. He left these beautiful words behind, along with an entire collection.

Through the years, other artists have quoted him often. Even Willy Wonka said, “We are the music-makers, and we are the dreamers of dreams.”

Haven’t we all grown up using the phrase, movers and shakers?

This poem reminds me that we have so much power to shake up the world with our words and our music and our art.

We can move people to action, with our own ability to dream and create. Every period of human history has been changed by human contribution.

But artists, writers, painters, and poets all understand it can be a lonely occupation, especially if you push against the status quo.

In O’Shaughnessy’s day, artists lived extremely difficult lives. They were “World-losers and world-forsakers.” Can this be said of us today? It’s precisely what draws me to poets of old. They had a vision, and they put words to it. They lived in a world of imagination.

They imagined something better for the world, and this they shared.

They built up “the world’s cities, And out of a fabulous story” They “fashion[ed] and empire’s glory.”

In order to achieve something great with their art–to be both movers and shakers–they had to first be world-losers and world-forsakers.

But sometimes building the world’s cities takes a different direction. In the end of these 3 stanzas, the poet speaks of Babel and Ninevah. These two biblical cities shared this in common–deep-seated pride and defiance of God.

Babel: “Come, let us build ourselves a city, with a tower that reaches to the heavens, so that we may make a name for ourselves…” (Genesis 11:4)

Ninevah: “Whatever they plot against the Lord He will bring to an end.” (Nahum 1:9)

We can say for certain that generations will come and go. People will still make music, dream dreams, and share recycled visions.

In every age, there will be movers and shakers.

But I wonder, of what kind?

Who will go where God tells her to go and say what He tells her to say?

Who will move away from towers and stages and enterprises and rein in their own pride?

Who will rally a city to make a name for God rather than a name for ourselves?

After all, we are the music-makers, and we are the dreamers of dreams.

Writers, Don’t Wait for the Lights to Turn Green

July 1, 2016 By: Angela Parlin

Welcome back to Edition 3 of {Beauty in the Chaos of a Writer’s Life}, in connection with #Ladder2Rooftop Academy.

Today I thought we’d play a little game of Red Light, Green Light.

Because sometimes you stick your neck out in this writing journey, and the Powers That Be answer with a painful no. Red Light.

Other times, a door opens wide when you least expect it, and you push on the gas and move forward. Green Light.

Sometimes, you send off a submission, and the answer never comes. Obviously, it’s a no, but you spent a long time waiting. Red Light.

Then some day when you’re discouraged, a reader tells you, “Your words made me feel less alone.” Which is what you always hoped to offer. Green Light.

There’s another Red Light I’ve allowed to stop me too many times. It’s looks like shrinking back behind the desk, afraid to say what you’re working on, afraid of rejection, afraid of what it might mean about you.

Fear becomes a persistent red light, keeping us at a standstill. Fear prevents us from ever moving forward. It prevents us from submitting at all sometimes.

I’m sad to say that I know too well the red light of fear in the writing journey. It’s probably half the chaos of the writer’s life for me. But by now, I hope you know where I’m going with this.

There’s So Much Beauty in All This Chaos, and I’m fixing to point us back to the beauty.

What is helping me move past the red light of fear these days? Three things: Readers, Gold, and a Different Fear. Let me explain, because maybe they’ll help you, too.

Readers

A few months ago, I read through reader comments from my blog, facebook posts, and twitter messages. I printed out a bulleted list of many of these, and hung it above my desk. What I found was this theme: “You helped me see things a different way,” and “I needed that reminder.”

In this season, I write about things I need to be reminded of, and my readers do also. I believe I’m called to remind people to see the beauty in the chaos, the beauty we easily lose sight of when life swirls fast around us. When I remember and care for the people who might read my words, rather than writing from a place of self-preservation, the light turns green and I move past the fear.

Gold

My Bible calls it the Parable of the Bags of Gold. Because don’t you know we’ve all been given bags of gold? It’s a lovely way to say gifts or talents. We’ve been entrusted with some of the Lord’s gold, so to speak. (See Matthew 25.)

It doesn’t really matter what’s in our bags of gold.

It doesn’t matter how many bags of gold we have, or if the bags are heavy or light. What matters is what we do with the gold we’ve been given.

What are your bags of gold?

Writing is one of mine. I’ve been told this since grade school, and I don’t mean only by my own Mom and Dad. 🙂 There are a crowd of dear faces in my head right now, who took a moment along the way, to tell me they saw this bag of gold in my hands. (Thank you each!)

With this bag of gold, and the others I’ve been entrusted, I want to be faithful. I don’t want to dig a hole and bury them in the ground. I want to invest them widely and see what might grow. I have a feeling you want the same.

A Different Fear

I’m afraid of something more, and it’s pushing me past my fear of rejection. I’m afraid of wasting my life, of wasting what I’ve been given. I think this is a healthy fear.

We are all given only so much time here, and so much talent. There are many ways to take what’s in our own hands and make it count. But we all have to decide where we’ll invest and what we’ll do with the time and talents we have.

As in any journey, there will be red lights. Just make sure you’re not creating your own.

And writers–don’t wait for all the lights to turn green.

~Angela

*Subscribe to receive regular posts in your email inbox. See box at the bottom or top right. Thank you!

Who Will Teach You To Write?

May 31, 2016 By: Angela Parlin

Welcome to the 2nd Edition of {Beauty in the Chaos of a Writer’s Life}, where I write about writing, for the Ladder2Rooftop Academy with Jami Amerine of Sacred Ground, Sticky Floors. So glad you’re here!

It probably goes without saying, that to be a great writer, you must be (or become) a great reader.

I’ve heard a number of authors state this number one tip for wannabe writers: READ. Read widely. Read often. Read the dead. Read the living. Just read!

Are you an avid reader, or is this an area in which you hope to grow?

The best way to begin reading more (besides setting goals) is to get yourself a writing assignment. With a deadline. Under these circumstances, you will LOVE reading. You will NEED to read. Then pages read will create momentum, and you’ll be on your way. So I’ve heard. 🙂

I encourage writers to read a wide variety of types of books, but today I recommend one of the best books I have ever found on writing–The Writing Life, by Annie Dillard. It’s the kind of book you want to read again and again. The kind of book you need.

Annie Dillard is wise and warm and brilliant. She spells out the trials of the writing life, and the joys. She tells the truth, and then gives us the courage to begin. Listen to this little excerpt:

“Who will teach me to write?”

“The page, the page, that eternal blankness, the blankness of eternity which you cover slowly, affirming time’s scrawl as a right and your daring as necessity;

“The page, which you cover woodenly, ruining it, but asserting your freedom and power to act, acknowledging that you ruin everything you touch but touching it nevertheless, because acting is better than being here in mere opacity;

“The page, which you cover slowly with the crabbed thread of your gut; the page in the purity of its possibilities; the page of your death, against which you pit such flawed excellences as you can muster with all your life’s strength:

“That page will teach you to write.” (Annie Dillard)

The first time I read The Writing Life, I was taken by this drama. The page, the page, that eternal blankness… I scribbled it in the back of a journal. I laughed, thinking it was some kind of joke. At least a writerly exaggeration.

The page of your death, I copied, half hoping I would never need to become that kind of writer. Can’t I just sit at my favorite desk with the backyard view and the background music and the words flowing? I watch movies. I’ve caught the vision.

This was early in my writing journey, and I basically knew not much. I didn’t know how hard it would be to consistently fill pages with words that mattered.

Writing is hard for many reasons. Dillard explores many in this book. In my experience, you don’t know how hard it is, until you walk down the road a bit. You end up looking for secrets, for magic to make it easier. You hate the blank page. Until you fill it hundreds and thousands of times, and then you understand.

The page has become your best teacher.

And so you continue to cover it thoughtfully. You assert yourself, inside the blankness of eternity. You lay out your life in fragments and gather thoughts onto the page long before they make sense. You take action. You keep on.

A writer friend told me that when you’ve filled thousands of blank pages, you have begun. As in, you’ve only just begun. She said it like she was offering me hope, like we should be cheering this beginning. I felt it was too little to celebrate. I had a lot to learn. (*have)

You’re in a good place, writer.

I want to encourage you to keep daring. Begin with the page, the page of your death (but hopefully not).

Cover it. Ruin it. Assert yourself. Act. For there, on that page, you will learn.

*Don’t forget to pick up a copy of The Writing Life.

You’re welcome. 🙂

~Angela

Beauty in the Chaos of a Writer’s Life~ #Ladder2Rooftop Academy

April 29, 2016 By: Angela Parlin

This one’s for my Writing Friends, or anyone who wants to learn more about the writing life. This post begins a series on Writing, where I hope to encourage other bloggers and newbie (or wannabe) writers. So glad you’re here!

I have always been a writer.

As a young girl, I copied words of story books, just for fun. I wrote stories and poems throughout stacks of notebooks, some of which still reside in a pink plastic box in the attic.

I wrote copy for yearbooks and a number of newsletters, and I wrote for a weekly teen section of the local newspaper. I wrote for college organizations and church groups, and later took my first real job as a writer at IBM.

Then a different dream came true, and I became a Mom.

As a 30-something, third-time Mommy, I heard the whisper to write again. I didn’t know what it meant exactly. My hands were full. I was afraid and feeling inadequate. I wanted to know what it meant–Exactly. But I only had some ideas.

So I rocked my tiny pink bundle and chased two toddler boys, and in between all the work of early motherhood and the playdates and parties and near-daily Target runs, I dreamed little writing dreams.

I bought some books from the Writing & Publishing rack at Barnes & Noble, and hated everything I learned. You must promote yourself. You must sell your work. You must build a platform, the wise professionals told me.

Then I wanted my writing dream to die.

It wouldn’t.

I have always been a writer, because I write. It’s a gift God has given me, and it brings me so much joy.

But becoming a (published) author hasn’t turned out anything like I first imagined. Do you relate?

What did your dream look like, when it first came to you?

The writer’s life is both beauty and chaos, and the journey often turns out to be different than we’d hoped.

Maybe you haven’t arrived where you think you should be by now. You’re disappointed, and like me, you fall into discontentment sometimes.

One season, I was ready to give up completely. Alone, on my screened porch, I heard another whisper.

“Don’t quit.”

“Come with me.”

“On this journey, I have many things for you to do—write and nurture and host and love and lead and teach and more.”

I said Yes.

Here’s my dream, Lord. It looks like published books to me, but I trust it to You instead. You decide what it becomes.

I grieved for what might never be. It may never turn out the way I hope. Of course, I could kick down doors, and probably make some things happen.

But I’m doing the work I know is mine to do in this season. I’m listening and learning to trust.

Writing is my dream, but it’s not my only dream.

I also dream of loving and leading well where the Lord opens doors for me. I dream of seizing the days of this season, while my kids live at home. I dream of living with no regrets.

What are your other dreams for this life? What are your other callings?

Today, I blog here and on a couple other blogs, and I write for various organizations. I’m working on writing a book, whether it gets published or not. And I love it all.

With my business-owner husband and our four busy kids and homeschooling, my life is full and chaotic and beautiful. It’s a journey I wouldn’t trade for anything.

Even in the chaos, there’s always so much beauty. We find it whenever we choose to see.

Has your dream taken a new shape?

Has it expanded or headed a different direction?

I pray you will see the beauty of your right-now place. If you desire more of this type of encouragement, would you Subscribe at the pink box, top right?

Click here to find out more about the #Ladder2Rooftop Academy, where I contribute to Beauty in the Chaos of the Writer’s Life.

Shake the World With Your Words

If you are visiting from the Ladder to Rooftop newsletter, Welcome!