Getting a different kind of call

Since I think I’m ten times more clever than I actually am, I thought I’d continue the spirit of our series by posting about getting another type of call—the one from my editor.

Every writer dreams about the moment they get the phone call offering to buy the manuscript. If you’re like me, (on days when I allowed myself to optimistically dream) I practiced what I would say when the moment came. How unflappable and cool I would be. I’d think about it to the point of polishing my acceptance speech, ready to dazzle the editor with my calm and lack of I-just-sold-my-first-book hysteria.

Which is exactly how it played out in real life.

With a few, minor exceptions.

I was at work. The phone rang. I recognized the area code as being the same as the publishing house’s. I calmly answered the phone. Accepted their offer. And resumed work without so much as one ruffled feather.

Right. The first part’s true, up to the point where I realized it was New York calling. Then, I immediately started crying. A lot. So much so that my coworker was looking at me like I’d just gotten word my dog had died.

I managed to garble through my tears that I thought (didn’t know for sure, because I still hadn’t answered the phone) my editor was calling. I then explained that editors rarely call unless they are offering to buy. I’m not entirely sure, but I think she might have started crying then too.

At some point, I started thinking I was hyperventilating. My work buddy was trying to get me to answer the phone, but I was too busy making “I can’t breathe” motions.

I finally caught my breath.

The editor had left a message.

Editor on my voicemail: “Hey Mandy, this is xxxxx at xxxxx, just wanted to call and tell you I have some good news. Call me back.”

I hung up. And cried some more.

At this point, I’d managed to draw quite a bit of attention, and my coworkers started coming up to make sure I wasn’t having some kind of psychotic episode (although why they’d imagine that of me, I’m not sure). Once they realized what was going on, everyone yelled at me to call her back. My boss ran to the bathroom and then shoved a bunch of tissues at me so I could “dry up and call!”

I did. And I had several witnesses who had front row seats to how incredibly dumb I can be on the phone. And I do mean incredibly dumb. I basically had to tell the editor I was freaking out too badly to have a coherent conversation with her. To my editor’s credit, this request didn’t seem to surprise her. She was very gracious and understanding. Or perhaps she could already tell from our previous correspondence that I’m—at times—an idiot.

Afterwards, I was so excited, flustered, in shock, etc., I had to leave for the day.

So, it’s safe to say, nothing I’d planned for “the call,” went the way I’d rehearsed. The moment that defined my writing career (because I’m fairly sure nothing will ever be as exciting as that first call) is encapsulated by tears, laughing, and near hyperventilation . . . all common signs of a nervous breakdown.

But that’s okay. I don’t want my journey to be ordinary, or even calm and collected. I want it to be interesting, inspiring, and uplifting. And maybe just a little tear-jerking.

--Mandy

Seasons Change

**Part 5 of 5 on God's Call

I hate change.

Absolutely, positively, unequivocally hate change.

Did I mention I hate change?

Okay, I’m sure you get the point. I’m a creature of habit, to coin a cliché. And if I were of a mind to investigate the deeper reasons for my intense aversion to change, I’m sure I could come up with some deep psychological motivation.

A fear of abandonment maybe? An ongoing resistance resulting from the effects of an unstable childhood perhaps? Some deep psychic wound from early adolescence possibly? All very dramatic excuses, but probably inaccurate. Definitely unimportant.

The bottom line is, I simply like things to stay the same. I like feeling comfortable. The unexpected throws me. I like a plan, preferably one that’s been laid out well in advance and holds no detours.

Unfortunately, God rarely works that way, at least in my life. I cry out to Him for a clear, well established ten year plan. He tells me His word will be a light to direct my steps and a lamp to light my path (Psalm 119:105). I beg Him to show me the next step--and the one after that and the one after that--He tells me to trust Him, not to try to figure things out on my own, and promises He will give me the direction I need (Proverbs 3:5-6).

When God called me to serve Him as a teacher, I was okay with that. Yes, teaching can be tiring at times, but it's rewarding and stable. No surprises, a nice comfortable call I could settle into and enjoy.

But as God began to lead me to serve Him in new and different ways, I put up more than a little resistance. Doesn't Romans 11:29 say the "gifts and calling of God are irrevocable ?" And they are. It isn't that God changes His mind about how He wants us to serve Him; He may, however, change or expand the scope of the call for service He gives each one of us.

So how might a change or expansion in the call play out? It could be as simple as someone who's been called to teach first grade beginning to feel a yearning to shift to older students. Or it could as complex as a doctor answering the tug at his heart to close his successful practice, pack up his family, and devote his life to foreign missions. Or it could be as dramatic (and might I add painful) as a woman who's established and comfortable living out God's call being transitioned into a new and unexpected area of ministry.

Here's what we need to understand. We're God's vessels. We're the clay, and He's the potter (Isaiah 64:8). Nothing more. Nothing less. Our job is to stay open to His work, ready and willing to answer the call whereever it leads us . . . in whatever form it takes.

--Cheryl

What Has God Done for You? Wednesday

What's God been doing for you this week?

He's taught me a new appreciation of my husband and son.

He's been faithful, even when I'm not.

He's teaching me to appreciate ordinary miracles.

--Cheryl

Living the Call

**Part 4 of 5 on God's Call

As you know from my previous post, I know—without a shadow of doubt—that God has called me to be a writer.

So why then do I spend so much of my time figuring out how not to write?

Don’t get me wrong; I love the idea of writing. I love writing itself, when the words flow from my brain to my fingertips to the keyboard. When the story practically writes itself, and all I have to do is be a vessel for creative genius.

Which happens much less often than I would like.

Most of the time, I struggle. Life gets in between me and the fictional world of romance I’m trying to craft. It’s hard to care about two imaginary people falling in love when my daughter is sick; the car’s acting up; or I’m just plain ‘ole tired.

So how do I stay faithful to living out God’s call in my everyday life?

Let me first say, I fully believe it’s okay to skip a day, to rest when you feel so worn out that one more task on the to-do list will push you over the edge. God understands when we’re tired. He knows that life is stressful, demanding, and draining. He understands that I keenly feel a mother’s guilt when my two-year-old asks me to play and I’ve got a deadline looming on the horizon.

I don’t believe He holds it against me when I shut the laptop and help her build a castle. On the other hand, I can’t argue that I’m being true to my calling if I never actually do it. There comes a time when my protestations for why I can’t write are simply excuses.

When I’ve allowed my mind to magnify what I love into a chore I loathe. When that’s the case, living out the call is difficult, but only because I’ve made it so.

I’m not here professing to hold the secret to compartmentalizing the bad stuff in your life, or magically erasing stress. This is as much a learning journey for me as anyone. But the one thing I know with all certainty is that as long as we persist in making excuses, procrastinating, or otherwise thwarting God’s plan for our lives, we’re being disobedient.

It’s a hard, hard lesson I’m, unfortunately, learning the hard, hard way.

Whether God’s called you to be a teacher, a mother, a caregiver, a painter, a chimney sweep, or all of the above, He’ll give you the passion, the drive, and (even though at times this may seem doubtful) the time to do what He’s asked of you.

And the question I have to keep asking myself is what am I going to do with that time?

Complain?

Evade?

Or get it done?


--Mandy

Take It to the Lord in Prayer Friday

What's on your heart this week?

Anything you need lifted up to God in prayer?

I believe one of the most important things we can do for each other is pray for another's needs. So, let us know how we can pray for you.

What Has God Done for You? Wednesday

Anybody want to sound off about God has been doing for you this week?

For me, he's allowed me to see the humor and beauty of life, even in stressful situations.

He's reminded me, again, how blessed I am to be surrounded by wonderful family and friends.

And I've been renewed in my awe of the sacrifice made two thousand years ago for us all. Perhaps we quote this verse so much that we've lost some of it's impact, but think about it now:

"For God so loved the world that He gave his only begotten son that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish but have everlasting life." (John 3:16).

So above all the many things God has done to bless me, in this Holy Week, I want to give thanks and praise that I can have both abundant life on earth and eternal life in Heaven.

--Mandy

One (of many) writing fears . . .

Few things are more terrifying to me than a blank screen. (And yes, the screenshot above is actually mine. From today. Obviously, I'm blogging as procrastination--something I heartily disapprove of others doing!)

I don't know what kind of power that white space has over me, but it's almost like just looking at it paralyzes my hands. My fingers can no longer type. My brain no longer has anything witty for me to pen. Even thinking about it right now has me feeling panicked and frozen.

Maybe that sounds a bit dramatic (something I've never been accused of, thankyouverymuch). But I like to think I'm not alone out there in my fear of the scary first page. And I'm equally sure a psychologist would have loads to say about what this fear says about me as a person . . .

So I'm wondering if anyone else detests empty space as much as I do?

What do you do to get over it?

--Mandy