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The essence of grace

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The Victoria Advocate, A Different Perspective

Annabelle holding Myrtle, one of her beloved chickens.

As I eke out words for Book 4, I’m reminded of a quote. It helps when I’m not sure what scene to write next.

“Writing a novel is like driving a car at night. You can only see as far as your headlights, but you can make the whole trip that way.” E. L. Doctorow

When I explained my problem to a group of regional writers at a Zoom meeting, they had excellent encouragement. They called my dilemma the Murky Middle, which accurately describes it. I’ve heard (but never experienced) the middle of a marathon, but runners often say it’s the hardest part. The zeal and excitement of getting started has worn off, and the exhilaration of finishing hasn’t kicked in yet. So yes, it feels like the middle of this novel will never end, but it will if I keep writing.

So I keep slogging along, throwing words on the page. I tend to “write short,” for novels, which means I barely hit the word count I’m shooting for, or I fall short, sometimes ten to fifteen thousand words. Other authors have the opposite problem. They “write long” and overshoot the acceptable word count, often by twenty to thirty thousand words. They have to cut scenes and subplots. My heart goes out to them, because I find it much easier to add in than omit what’s already written.

The highlight of the week was a trip to New Braunfels for a late Father’s Day celebration, since our daughter’s in-laws were visiting. We’ve become friends, so it’s always fun to take a day trip and visit. We cooked up a late lunch of tacos with all the fixings. Nan had made a couple of desserts with her eight-year-old, who loves to cook. I had a déjà vu moment, seeing a brief conversation between Ria and her mom as they discussed the desserts. What can go wrong with chocolate no-bakes and peach cobbler with ice cream?

Friends from Victoria also made the trip to check out some property. Since we attend the same church, I teased, saying we had to meet in a different city in order to visit. Nancy showed them their chicken coop—she’s added a little shed and a chicken run of sorts. The girls let the chickens out later but forgot to stay outside with them. Of course, the chickens broke off a lovely spire of Nan’s lavender. Best laid plans and all.

It was getting late, but the dads made time to go axe-throwing. It sounded quite macho. Sure enough, they enjoyed it.

On Sunday afternoon, I headed to the health club to exercise. While I was thinking of all the things that needed to go in my planner, (Can anyone else relate?) I noticed a black & white police vehicle farther down the road, so I slowed down. Apparently not enough, since the officer leisurely swung in behind me and turned on his lights. Worse yet, I was guilty. In those situations, I always pray like King David of old—he prayed he would fall into the hands of God rather than man. The officer was young and polite. I was nervous and one hundred percent certain I didn’t want a ticket. However, I was going eleven miles over the speed limit in a residential area.

I was uber-thankful to receive a warning, because, by rights, I deserved a ticket.

All that to say, do you really want what you deserve? I don’t. However, many people don’t understand God’s mercy. Because of Jesus’s sacrifice on our behalf, we don’t get what we deserve; we get grace. Life isn’t fair. Only God is fair, and He’s the one who decided Jesus’s death would cover our guilt. All one has to do is accept it as a gift.

I’ll take His grace instead of what I deserve every single time.

Life, mysteries, and things we don’t understand

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Father’s Day, 2024, Dave and Mary Pat Johns

Don’t you just hate it when a pet is sick? Recently, Ike, our thirteen-year-old dachshund, wasn’t himself. He slept a lot and didn’t move much, which is unusual, but the chief cause of concern was that he wasn’t eating. Very atypical behavior for our favorite little chowhound. After a few days of Ike’s lethargy, Dave took him to the vet. She did bloodwork, which was all good. However, when she physically checked him over, she discovered neck and back pain. Poor baby. No wonder he’d quiver and tremble when we stroked him. After a week of meds, he’s pretty much back to normal. We still don’t know what happened; we’re just relieved he’s better. Whatever it was didn’t affect Lacey except for sympathy pains. She didn’t eat much either and lost what she ate.

I got back into Book 4 of my series and wrote about three thousand words. After working on a book proposal for a day, I shelved it. It was too frustrating to create a new project when there’s still so much left to do with Book 4.     

Over the weekend, I made a trip to New Braunfels to see my daughter. It was also the first leg on my way to Georgetown to visit a writer’s group. It’s been a while since I’ve driven any distance by myself, so the first time was stressful. The journey was a straight shot on I35 from New Braunfels to Georgetown, so that made it easier, even if the busy freeway isn’t my favorite. There was a Big Brother moment—on the north side of Austin, traffic had slowed almost to a stop. We were jammed in like jar of marbles when a loud authoritative voice said, “If you haven’t already, move NOW to the right.” Hm. How to do that when there’s no wiggle room? Yet, somehow it happened, and the police vehicle nosed its way through. Fortunately, there didn’t seem to be a collision, but the true reason we stopped and had to move over remains a mystery.     

The writer’s meeting was lovely. Always fun to meet with other authors. We participated in a zoom meeting about Pinterest. It seems fiction authors underutilize the site, so I’ll be adding that to my marketing plans.

I was relieved when the GPS directed me to take the toll road home. The lighter traffic and wider lanes proved friendlier to my mental state. At one point, traffic came to a standstill, although my GPS assured me it was still the fastest route. Once again, I never figured out why.    

When I arrived home, our son, anticipating Father’s Day, had picked up my husband and they spent the day together. A new grill came into play, and they bought a lot of meat to try it out. Actually, they did all the cooking while I played games with our grandsons and supervised a “dig” into chalky dinosaur eggs for prizes. Yes, it was messy.  

Meat dominated the dinner menu—with sausage, chicken and beef, but they’d also made guacamole, grilled corn, and created a bean dish. Phil sauteed a small pan of peppers and onions, but there was nary a green food in sight.    

I wished I had taken pictures, so I made sure Dave and I posed in a Father’s Day photo booth at church. And now it’s back to the grindstone. Writing a column and wrestling Book 4 out of my head onto paper. Or a screen.   

Although the week was sprinkled with things I’ll never know or understand, I remain confident in the goodness of God. Many people aren’t interested in God because they don’t understand Him. I agree, He’s quite the mystery. But when I draw close with a sincere heart, He reveals Himself. Then I find He’s worthy of all my praise.