The Joy of Hindsight

By Jennifer AlLee

Here it is, December 31st, the eve of a new year. About this time we usually look back at the year with nostalgia (or with a shudder and a prayer of thanks that it's over). Often, it's a time to make resolutions. Today, I'd like to look back, but way back...all the way to Christmas of 1995 and another time-honored tradition: visiting the mall for a picture with Santa.

A wee bit of context here. My son, Billy (who prefers Bill or William now, but at the time was definitely Billy) generally loved having his picture taken and was quite photogenic. On this particular day, he was not, shall we say, agreeable to sitting on a strange man's lap and looking happy about it. I watched as Santa tried to charm him, bouncing him on his knee and never dropping his jolly facade. I, however, was far from jolly. I was mortified. I wanted to explain to Santa and anyone watching that my son really wasn't a little monster, he was just having a bad day.

When the ordeal of sitting for the picture was over, we moved down the line to pick up the proof sheets, which they printed on the spot. The result wasn't good so I had no desire to purchase a package of pics to share with family and friends. But I wasn't going to leave empty handed, so I bought the proof sheets.

It's fair to say, I considered the day a failure. My son was miserable, we had not brightened Santa's day, and there was nothing jolly about the outing. But a funny thing happened. The following year, I came across the proof sheets. When I looked at them, I felt none of the negative emotions from that day. Instead, I burst out laughing. Not a snicker or a chuckle, but a full out, fall over sideways, tears of joy kind of laughter. To this day, I cannot look at those pictures without laughing. What I saw as a disaster when it was happening has now become a great source of joy.

To wrap this up with a pretty bow and show why this should matter to all you writers, let me say this: There are times during life (in general) and writing (in particular) when it feels like everything is going wrong. Those times stink, no doubt about it. But it's just possible that, somewhere down the road, you'll look back on those times and burst out laughing. At the very least, you may smile knowingly, aware of the growth and strength that came from the perceived failure.

So, as we say, "Later, baby!" to 2016 and greet the new year, I have one simple resolution: To find joy in unlikely places. Care to join me?

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Jennifer AlLee was born in Hollywood, California, and grew up living above a mortuary one block away from the famous intersection of Hollywood & Vine. Now she lives in the grace-filled city of Las Vegas, which just goes to prove she’s been blessed with a unique life. A multi-published author, she’s worked with four different publishing houses in the genres of Women’s Fiction, Contemporary Romance, and Historical Romance. When she’s not busy spinning tales, she enjoys playing games with friends, attending live theater and movies, and singing at the top of her lungs to whatever music happens to be playing. 

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SEEDS OF LIGHT

by Cynthia Ruchti

Traveling across Wisconsin at this time of year is a stunning experience, especially when using full advantage of back roads. Tidy red barns and white farmhouses contrast against a background of ripening wheat, lush green carpets of alfalfa, and mixed hardwood and pine forests. A farm pond, river, or lake is never far from sight. Gardens seem to express their gratitude for the sun and rain of Wisconsin's short growing season by condensing their life-cycles into two or three months of jungle-paced growth.

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CELEBRATING FOUR MONTHS EARLY

by Cynthia Ruchti

As of this date, we’re four months from candle-lit, evergreen-scented, hushed and holy celebrations of the birth of the Christ Child.

That’s not what crossed my mind when I woke this morning. It jarred me later, when I wearied of the news—one heartache or atrocity after another, one report of heinous-osity maxing out our vocabularies of the heinous. It smacked my frontal cortex long after my second cup of coffee. It rattled me. I needed rattling.

I’m speaking on the subject of rejoicing at a women’s retreat in less than two weeks. Rejoicing and joy have paddled hard for attention against the floodwaters of international heartbreak, whispers of “Is this another holocaust? God help us!” and losses that turn our nation into mourners. Rejoicing. Joy.

The topical index in the back of my Bible—old school searching—suggested Isaiah 9 as a place to find the word joy. As I turned the pages, I hoped I’d learn more conceptually, too.

Smacked. Jarred. Rattled. Bowed down.

My eyes rested on a verse tucked just underneath the joy reference in that column. “Because every boot of the thundering warriors, and every garment rolled in blood will be burned, fuel for the fire,” Isaiah 9:5 CEB.

Yes! God cares what’s happening! As if I needed the reminder. The perpetrators of the heaviness under which we’re trying to breathe and write and work and laugh when our grandchildren say something funny will be stopped and called to account for what they’re doing.

This is when rejoicing began to push out my portion of international despair—when I read the next verse, the one immediately following the “garments rolled in blood.”

A child is born to us,

    a son is given to us,

And authority will be

    on his shoulders.

He will be named

Wonderful Counselor,

                            Mighty God,           

Eternal Father, Prince of Peace.

There will be vast authority

    and endless peace.

                        Isaiah 9:6-7, CEB

That’s the context? That’s the setup for the treasured announcement promising the Christ Child’s coming?

The text flows seamlessly:

Isaiah 8:21—“They will pass through the land, dejected and hungry, and when they are hungry, they will be enraged and will curse their king and God. They will turn toward heaven and look to the earth, but they will see only distress and darkness, random movement, and the anguish and doom of banishment. (Chapter 9) Nonetheless, those who were in distress won’t be exhausted…The people walking in darkness have seen a great light. On those living in a pitch-dark land, light has dawned. You have made the nation great; you have increased its joy. They rejoiced before you as with joy at the harvest, as those who divide plunder rejoice…You’ve shattered the yoke that burdened them, the staff on their shoulders, and the rod of their oppressor. Because every boot of the thundering warriors, and every garment rolled in blood will be burned, fuel for the fire. A child is born to us,”—No break in the story!—“a son is given to us, and authority will be on his shoulders. He will be named Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Eternal Father, Prince of Peace. There will be vast authority and endless peace…”

A “pitch-dark land” is promised a Messiah. For those exhausted by distress, a Messiah. For those confused by “random movement” and “anguish and doom” on every hand, a Messiah to believe in, cling to, rejoice in.

Isn’t that at the heart of every word we speak or write? Onto the darkest of backgrounds, the most trying scene, the gravest crisis, we layer the “Ah, yes, but…!” of the Promise.

Everything changes when Jesus appears on the scene.

Joy. To the world.

Rejoicing in Hope, Cynthia Ruchti tells stories of Hope-that-glows-in-the-dark, the pitch-dark, through her award-winning novels, novellas, devotions, nonfiction, and through speaking events for women and writers. She currently serves as professional relations liaison for American Christian Fiction Writers. You can connect with her through cynthiaruchti.com, www.twitter.com/cynthiaruchti, or www.facebook.com/CynthiaRuchtiReaderPage.

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OFFERING HOPE

by Cynthia Ruchti

A novelist once asked, "What would you do if you didn't write novels?" answered, "I'd write short stories."

"And if you didn't write short stories?"

"I'd write one meaningful paragraphs."

"And if you couldn't write meaningful paragraphs?"

Pause. "I guess I'd write power-packed sentences. One-liners."

"And if--?"

The novelist thought hard. "I'd write one word: Hope."

Other professions might have a different answer to that series of questions. But the novelist, especially the novelist who writes Christian fiction, can condense their life's work to a single word like hope, or one similar in flavor.

Peace. Light. Joy. Faith. Power. Purpose. Meaning. Insight. Understanding. Compassion. Redemption. Wisdom.

During a recent women's event, Romans 15:13 served as a key verse encompassing their unique maple-syrup making theme--Tapping Into God. The table decorations held a trunk of a maple tree with a nail on which hung a small bucket for collecting sap. Each attendee received a small glass bottle of maple syrup. The comedy skit prior to my speaking showed every definition imaginable about tree tapping, including tapping out Morse Code, tapping a phone screen, and tap shoes.

Romans 15:13 (CEB) describes why we find that sweet source of hope by tapping into God. It reads, "May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in faith so that you overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit."

So much is packed into that one sentence, one sentence reducing the reason we write to its beautiful, rich essence.

"May the God of HOPE fill you with all JOY and PEACE in FAITH so that you overflow with HOPE by the POWER of the Holy Spirit."

A sentence a few verses earlier reads, "May the God of ENDURANCE and ENCOURAGEMENT…" (Romans 15:5, CEB).

And that's why we write tangled mysteries with a hope-giving conclusion, nail-biting thrillers that show a soul either redeemed or suffering the consequences of actions against the ancient and still viable and inviolable rules of life itself, emotive women's fiction with hope embedded in the denouement, well-researched historicals that wrestle with hope-hungry issues we face yet today.

Because there is a God of hope. And He intends us to spread word about it through our stories, a hope that fills us and our readers with joy and peace in faith so we overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.

We weave stories of hope because it all comes back to that single word, and its close-knit companions.

As we approach our writing assignments these next days and weeks, might we first come to the God of hope, tapping into what He holds out to us, so that our words are the overflow of a life overwhelmed by hope.


Cynthia Ruchti is an author and speaker who tells stories of Hope-that-glows-in-the-dark through her novels and novellas, her devotions, nonfiction, and speaking events for women and writers. Her recent releases are When the Morning Glory Blooms (novel) and Ragged Hope: Surviving the Fallout of Other People's Choices (nonfiction). Connect with her and keep the hope-filled conversation going at www.cynthiaruchti.com or www.facebook.com/CynthiaRuchtiReaderPage.

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Flash Mobs at Christmas

by Marcia Lee Laycock

I love the videos of flash mobs that circulate on YouTube and Facebook, especially at this time of year. I love to watch the faces of those in the malls or city squares as they realize that something unusual is happening. The looks range from bemused delight to open-mouthed awe. Cell phones quickly appear to capture the event and the applause at the end is usually long and loud.

What is it about these spontaneous events that delight us? 

We aren’t expecting it. Who expects a symphony orchestra to suddenly strike up in a food court? The people doing it look just like us yet they are doing something out of the ordinary, something fun and sometimes spectacular. Ordinary routines are suddenly halted, an ordinary day is turned into a festival and the focus on scurrying around to shop is forgotten. Strangers smile at one another and share the delight of discovery. For a few moments a community is created.

As I watched a video of a flash mob the other day I thought of how perfectly it exemplified the spirit of Christmas.

Who expected the Messiah to be born as a baby in a manger? The people involved were ordinary people who looked just like all the others in that era yet they were involved in a world-changing event – something totally out of the ordinary, something spectacular. The ordinary routines of Mary and Joseph, the shepherds and the wise men were suddenly halted. An ordinary event, the birth of a child, on an ordinary day, became the pivot on which history would turn. Those who came to worship the Christ child on that day were strangers to one another, but they became companions in a journey that would lead them to the most important discovery of their lives and a joy that would never leave them.

As I thought about it, I thought about my own attitude to yet another Christmas season. I’ve seen over six decades of them. Yes, I’m that old! And sometimes I miss the delight and the joy I had as a child, because it is all so familiar. It’s all so commercial with the constant pressure to buy and my jaded attitude causes me to miss the glory.

Perhaps that’s why I love the flash mobs. They renew my joy in this season, they renew my delight in the story that is still the pivot of the world’s history even after more than 2,000 years.

As a writer of faith it’s important that I sustain that joy and delight, not just at Christmas time, but all through the year, because without it I cannot pass it on to my readers. Without that connection to the reality of the only story that truly matters in this world, I cannot write the stories that will point people to it and perhaps even draw them into an eternity of joy.

What about you? Has your attitude toward Christmas been dulled over the years? Has it been jaded by all the commercialism? Click into Youtube and find a video about a flash mob. (Here’sone that might work). Or better, open your Bible and read the story again. Ponder the event that changed the world. It might just renew your Christmas spirit and fuel the joy that will seep into your work all year long.

 “Sing, O heavens! Be joyful, O earth! And break out in singing, O mountains! For the LORD has comforted His people, and will have mercy on His afflicted.” (Isa 49:13 NKJ)

“For to us a child is born, to us a son is given, and the government will be on his shoulders. And he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.” (Isa. 9:6 NIV)

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Marcia Lee Laycock writes from central Alberta Canada where she is a pastor's wife and mother of three adult daughters. She was the winner of The Best New Canadian Christian Author Award for her novel, One Smooth Stone and her work has been endorsed by Sigmund Brouwer, Janette Oke, Phil Callaway and Mark Buchanan. Abundant Rain, an ebook devotional for writers can be downloaded here. Visit Marcia’s website

 

An Unexpected Glory is available on Amazon, Barnes and Noble and Kobo.

Missing Christmas is available on Amazon

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