Finding a Voice
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Margaret Epp
Last Friday, as part of my trip to Write! Saskatoon, I detoured to Rosthern to interview Margaret Epp. Her nephew Gerry and his wife Ruth met me there and were a great help with filling in gaps and moving the conversation along at points.
Here's a quick draft/remembrance of our visit:
Miss Epp, winner of the Leslie K. Tarr Award in 2003, was a professional writer from age 35 to 77. When she was just seven years old, God told her that she would be a writer. At 95, she recalls that moment vividly. She was at a boarding school in China when “the revelation” came, and went outside to stand under a tree and absorb it.
Even so, did not begin writing for another 28 years. It wasn't a practical for a Mennonite farm girl, but the depression made space for many young people to receive higher education, so Margaret attended Bethany (now Bible College) with her brothers. After graduation she was invited to stay on to teach English (which included manners). She taught until age 35, at which time she just knew it was time to start writing, and spent that first writing winter alone in the old family farmhouse: wood stove, no electricity, no car, only a phone and dependence on the neighbours. Her family was dubious about the living arrangements, but they did not questioned the writing, unlike other people in the community who were convinced that writing fiction meant Margaret was dealing in lies.
So Margaret wrote fiction, mainly for children and teens, mainly for Sunday School publications through Moody and Zondervan. When that stream dried up in her late 50s, the Lord led her into several projects that required major travel: a travel diary, a history of Bethany, a history of missions at Prairie Bible School, a missionary biography, a fiction-based-
Just as clearly as when she had begun, she knew at 77 that it was time to lay down her pen.
Now at 95 she lives in the Mennonite nursing home in Rosthern. She has been blind for 5 years. Gerry and Ruth say her world is closing in, and being without sight is a terrible loss for someone whose life was words. Margaret told me, "I am lonesome for writing." In the nursing home, Margaret said her writing doesn't matter: “No one asks about it.”
During our visit, a childhood friend stopped in and when the friend left, Margaret was disappointed she couldn't stay longer and said, "I have been longing to see her."
Lonesome and longing. This haunted me all day at Write! Saskatoon. Gerry & Ruth said Margaret kept office hours, but we couldn't work out her schedule. When asked what hours she kept, Margaret said, “Seven and a half in the morning, seven and a half in the afternoon, and seven and a half in the evening.” Mmmm ... maybe not. Never mind the details for now. She wrote A LOT and diligently. Pages were her constant companions. No wonder she gets lonesome for writing.
I asked what she's been hearing from the Lord lately. She replied, “Be still and know that I am God.”
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
tour update #6: nearing the end, finding a home
This particular journey is nearing the end. It has been exhausting yet exhilarating, affirming and confirming my calling to a creative lifestyle, with music as a central part of that.
The house concert in Kitchener, Ontario was a delightful reunion of Briercrest alumni from the 2000s, plus a few new faces. One fun introduction was Laura S. Her sister Hannah (also there) was one of my students and introduced Laura to this blog. Laura has been quietly reading for a couple of years, and finally we met. It was amazing to open my concert singing "Poetess" and see her wipe away tears, then later to ask what caused the tears and have her respond that it was seeing me "standing, declaring my choice / To take my calling after resisting far too long." Hmmm. What a place to be in.
My other Ontario house concert in Markham was quite a bit smaller, but no less lovely in reuniting with old friends and meeting new ones. The CACSD meetings were fruitful, there were several opportunities for rejuvenation and reconnecting with friends during the trip. Of course, a touring schedule, sleeping in a different bed every night or two, being with different people every day or two, is not easy and I have often longed for a companion and/or a manager/agent at home and/or a laptop of my own to help streamline some aspects of life on the road.
I'm in Calgary this week. Arrived at 10:00 on Thursday evening (midnight in Ontario). Probably one of the funniest (as in ha-ha) touring moments happened the next morning at 6:30 when my alarm went off to get me up for a day of CHEC meetings (Christian Higher Education Canada). My last bed in Ontario was a mattress on the floor for two nights (comfy and restful). However, my bed in Calgary is your typical off-the-ground variety, but combining lack of sleep and disorientation, I jumped, rolled, and fell on the floor, banging my forehead on the night table! A bit of ice and nobody could tell, but it underscored my relief to be staying put here at my brother Tom's place for a few days and doing ordinary family things like driving my nephews and niece to school and writing little ditties to record on a birthday CD for my youngest niece and nephew.
Just a few days ago I found out that the Canadian Christian Music conference is here on Thursday and Friday, so I'm going to go for learning, networking, and inspiration. Possible workshops present me with some tough choices:
These sorts of dreams have been stirring in my heart and soul for a long time, but I could hardly imagine how or where they could begin to happen, even though Jeffrey had talked about similar things. The past year in Spiritwood has been transitional, knowing that I needed to finish my thesis and regain some health while seeking the Lord for the next step.
While in Ontario, my friend Anna reminded me of a developmental model that helps make sense of this past season: Janet Hagberg's Critical Journey. I've spent most of the year on a "journey inward" (stage 4), and have struggled "to be comfortable staying in this place until the new path comes." This summer I started hitting "the wall," wanting direction (particularly paying work) rather than waiting. I wrote out some elaborate schemes, trying to imagine ways to move on, make money and fulfill my calling at the same time. I have even submitted numerous resumes, with no bites. What should I do, what should I do, what should I do?
In all of this, the Lord has clearly had his hand on me. I recognize it in many ways. First there was the breakthrough in going on tour. There have been places to sleep and food to eat and people to sing for and with. As the tour nears the end, I have been wondering what to do next. I could keep touring, but it's time to stop and rest and be creative. I have been scouring job sites and brainstorming possibilities for self-employment income. Walls, walls, walls. Now Duval.
Though it seems perhaps a bit strange and risky, what hasn't been risky and unusual in my life for the past year plus? We're not naive. This transition will not be without challenges, of course, but that's the nature of anything worth doing. This feels like the right next step, pulling together all of my interests, training, experience and passion for the arts, business and education.
Hopefully my next post won't be so long in coming.
Here's a forecasted schedule for the next few weeks:
WEEK 6
Mon, Oct 22, Calgary (driving my nephews and niece to school--a nice change for me and a break for my brother & sister-in-law!)
Tue, Oct 23, Calgary, house concert, Pete & Brita Miko's home
Wed, Oct 24, Calgary, writing
Thu, Oct 25, Calgary, Canada Christian Music Conference
evening, Red Deer, house concert at Pete & Audrey Winter's home
Fri, Oct 26, Calgary, CCM conference
drive to Caronport
Sat, Oct 27, Caronport, house concert at Brendan and Laura Winter's home
Sun, Oct 28, Moose Jaw First Free Methodist Church
WEEK 7
Mon, Oct 29, Caronport
Tue, Oct 30, Caronport
Wed, Oct 31, Eston, SK, Full Gospel Bible College, concert (to be confirmed)
Thu, Nov 1, home to Spiritwood, Mom's birthday
Nov 2 - 8, Spiritwood: house concert at Inn on the Tenth; packing to move to Duval, SK for creative space and to be my brother Jeffrey's business manager and personal assistant during the Christmas rush.
Sometime in November: that free trip to California from a bank promotion last year
The house concert in Kitchener, Ontario was a delightful reunion of Briercrest alumni from the 2000s, plus a few new faces. One fun introduction was Laura S. Her sister Hannah (also there) was one of my students and introduced Laura to this blog. Laura has been quietly reading for a couple of years, and finally we met. It was amazing to open my concert singing "Poetess" and see her wipe away tears, then later to ask what caused the tears and have her respond that it was seeing me "standing, declaring my choice / To take my calling after resisting far too long." Hmmm. What a place to be in.
My other Ontario house concert in Markham was quite a bit smaller, but no less lovely in reuniting with old friends and meeting new ones. The CACSD meetings were fruitful, there were several opportunities for rejuvenation and reconnecting with friends during the trip. Of course, a touring schedule, sleeping in a different bed every night or two, being with different people every day or two, is not easy and I have often longed for a companion and/or a manager/agent at home and/or a laptop of my own to help streamline some aspects of life on the road.
I'm in Calgary this week. Arrived at 10:00 on Thursday evening (midnight in Ontario). Probably one of the funniest (as in ha-ha) touring moments happened the next morning at 6:30 when my alarm went off to get me up for a day of CHEC meetings (Christian Higher Education Canada). My last bed in Ontario was a mattress on the floor for two nights (comfy and restful). However, my bed in Calgary is your typical off-the-ground variety, but combining lack of sleep and disorientation, I jumped, rolled, and fell on the floor, banging my forehead on the night table! A bit of ice and nobody could tell, but it underscored my relief to be staying put here at my brother Tom's place for a few days and doing ordinary family things like driving my nephews and niece to school and writing little ditties to record on a birthday CD for my youngest niece and nephew.
Just a few days ago I found out that the Canadian Christian Music conference is here on Thursday and Friday, so I'm going to go for learning, networking, and inspiration. Possible workshops present me with some tough choices:
- Grants – Find out how you can improve your chances of receiving grants with tips on writing effective applications
- The Signpost Music Story – What it takes to make it as an independent artist. Speaker: Steve Bell
- Tours and Booking Panel – Perhaps the biggest challenge for the artist, booking gigs is an art in itself. Hear from a panel who have been putting together successful tours and concerts for years.
- SOCAN – What is SOCAN and why is it so important to the Canadian Artist? Hear what’s going on in Canada, how to protect your songs, and get answers to your questions.
- Artist Management Panel – Whether self-managed or you have a manager, hear what it takes to stay proactive rather than reactive in this industry.
- The Songwriting Process: Steve Bell and Carolyn Arends talk about the process of songwriting.
- The Secret Life of the Artist: Learn from the Breakforth founder and artist: Arlen Salte – Breakforth Ministries
- On-Stage Techniques: Learn from the Tom Jackson school of stage presence, from one of his trained presenters, Kevin Pauls
- Artist Panel: The realities of being a Canadian Christian Artist full time
- Kick-start the Heart – a frank discussion on how to take your heart for music and ministry and begin building a lasting career in the Christian music industry – Speaker: Jon Buller, Hear the Music Ministries
- Worship as a Journey: the corporate movement from alienation to intimacy between God and God’s people. Speaker: Steve Bell
These sorts of dreams have been stirring in my heart and soul for a long time, but I could hardly imagine how or where they could begin to happen, even though Jeffrey had talked about similar things. The past year in Spiritwood has been transitional, knowing that I needed to finish my thesis and regain some health while seeking the Lord for the next step.
While in Ontario, my friend Anna reminded me of a developmental model that helps make sense of this past season: Janet Hagberg's Critical Journey. I've spent most of the year on a "journey inward" (stage 4), and have struggled "to be comfortable staying in this place until the new path comes." This summer I started hitting "the wall," wanting direction (particularly paying work) rather than waiting. I wrote out some elaborate schemes, trying to imagine ways to move on, make money and fulfill my calling at the same time. I have even submitted numerous resumes, with no bites. What should I do, what should I do, what should I do?
In all of this, the Lord has clearly had his hand on me. I recognize it in many ways. First there was the breakthrough in going on tour. There have been places to sleep and food to eat and people to sing for and with. As the tour nears the end, I have been wondering what to do next. I could keep touring, but it's time to stop and rest and be creative. I have been scouring job sites and brainstorming possibilities for self-employment income. Walls, walls, walls. Now Duval.
Though it seems perhaps a bit strange and risky, what hasn't been risky and unusual in my life for the past year plus? We're not naive. This transition will not be without challenges, of course, but that's the nature of anything worth doing. This feels like the right next step, pulling together all of my interests, training, experience and passion for the arts, business and education.
Hopefully my next post won't be so long in coming.
Here's a forecasted schedule for the next few weeks:
WEEK 6
Mon, Oct 22, Calgary (driving my nephews and niece to school--a nice change for me and a break for my brother & sister-in-law!)
Tue, Oct 23, Calgary, house concert, Pete & Brita Miko's home
Wed, Oct 24, Calgary, writing
Thu, Oct 25, Calgary, Canada Christian Music Conference
evening, Red Deer, house concert at Pete & Audrey Winter's home
Fri, Oct 26, Calgary, CCM conference
drive to Caronport
Sat, Oct 27, Caronport, house concert at Brendan and Laura Winter's home
Sun, Oct 28, Moose Jaw First Free Methodist Church
WEEK 7
Mon, Oct 29, Caronport
Tue, Oct 30, Caronport
Wed, Oct 31, Eston, SK, Full Gospel Bible College, concert (to be confirmed)
Thu, Nov 1, home to Spiritwood, Mom's birthday
Nov 2 - 8, Spiritwood: house concert at Inn on the Tenth; packing to move to Duval, SK for creative space and to be my brother Jeffrey's business manager and personal assistant during the Christmas rush.
Sometime in November: that free trip to California from a bank promotion last year
Labels: CACSD, calling, family, identity, music, vocation, work
Saturday, January 27, 2007
rambling thoughts towards a book review
I'm reading my second book for The Christian Week: Revelations of a Single Woman: Loving the Life I Didn't Expect by Connally Gilliam (Tyndale House Publishers, 2006). It's one of those books that I want to finish to say it's complete, but want to savor and never have it end. I have underlined copiously and will reference this book for a long time to come. It's one of those books that I will buy for other people rather than lending it.
Initially I emailed my rambling thoughts to a host of friends: they were so raw that I'm was not ready to post them on my blog, but I wanted to share this with someone while it was fresh. However, with the many and long responses from both singles and marries, I realized that my review had touched a nerve and that this is a subject which needs a voice.
So, here are some notes about the book:
Thus far, this excerpt has had the deepest impact on me. Perhaps it's because I can imagine Dr. Houston having this conversation with someone. In the context of the excerpt, Connally had been in Vancouver and visited Dr. Houston and his wife for an evening, eating, playing Scrabble, and talking. I have been in their home doing exactly the same things. I played Scrabble with Mrs. Houston once after a breakup. Someone recommended that I call her, so I did. She picked me up, since I didn't have a car, drove me to her home, put out the Scrabble and a pot of tea, and in her lovely motherly and matter-of-fact way helped me to face the fact that reorienting was going to take some time and pain. Here is Connally's encounter with Dr. Houston as he drove her back to her hotel:
"Dr. Houston quietly spoke. 'You've suffered much being single.' I couldn't tell if he was asking me or telling me. ... 'Your mother, too; she has suffered in your singleness.' ... I tightened my stomach, trying to muffle the chord his words had struck.
"'The question, of course,' he continued, 'is how will you suffer? Will you suffer with bitterness or will you suffer prophetically?' O Lord, I don't like how this sounds. 'You see, your generation is experiencing the fallout of a culture profoundly confused about who God is and therefore about what it is to be human and what it is to love. Your relational disappointments and suffering are, sadly, emblematic of the age. ... like the prophets of old, take the pain--which is also the pain of this culture--to the Lord. Seek his heard of love and direction for yourself and for others.'
"In retrospect, it was strange what that conversation with Dr. Houston did to and for me. Somehow, in linking the word 'suffer' to my unintentionally single state, he legitimized something at work in my guts, some pain that I wanted to avoid for very good reasons. ... in calling it 'suffering,' he was legitimizing a part of me that did ache at sleeping alone every night. And the simple acknowledgment--having the ache compassionately seen and known by another--did its own quiet, little miracle. Something in my guts unclenched.
"More than that, however, Dr. Houston's words flipped my why question on its head and left me asking, What now? How then should I live? I wasn't sure what living prophetically meant (images of wild-haired, wide-eyed, angry men cam to mind), but I knew at minimum it meant living in the truth. It meant admitting that the confusion plaguing me (and so many of the men and women around me) was real and not easily navigated. It meant owning my unmet desires and the related disappointment. And it also meant holding on to and holding up the goodness and the realness of God in the midst of it. Dr. Houston's words about suffering prophetically had felt like a gut-level punch. But in reality, they were more like the compassion-induced Heimlich maneuver, freeing me to live.
"For today I am called to be single. I cannot say about tomorrow." (pp130-131)
Dr. Houston is the founding prinicipal of Regent College in Vancouver. My first encounter with him was in taking a class at Briercrest Seminary. Then, in my first year as a student at Regent, I was in his community group, which was much like a group therapy session, with occasional social events. That same year I dated a lovely guy who was very wrong for me and we had a few "spiritual direction" sessions with Dr. Houston, who told me that a relationship is a catalyst not unlike conversion.
Dr. Houston and his wife Rita are a delightful Scottish couple. He is soft and ruminant, a stereotypically absent-minded professor. She is brusque and practical and keeps a very clean and homey house. They are perfect together.
Connally's writing is descriptive but not overdone with metaphors, skillfully paced. Her grade 12 English teacher warned the class, in so many words, that "Sarcasm isn't a wit substitute" (124). Well, Connally is witty, without stooping to sarcasm. Oh, she admits the temptation to be sarcastic, but she gracefully sidesteps it.
Cathartic. Several times I wept with relief that someone was articulating my experience, or because the book dredged up (expunged?) things that I had buried. I laughed too, at the comic relief Connally provides. I cried with Connally (ch.16), felt awkward with her at the New Year's party where she was embarrassed to be the only single, "the remainder," laughed with her at ___ ... I'm curious. I wish I had the money to buy up several copies and distribute them to single friends to see if they have similar emotional responses. It's true, as Amy Taylor writes in her endorsement, "Every friend, relative, and pastor of a single woman should read Revelations of a Single Woman." But hold on. If you're married or the parent of an unintentionally single woman, please do not buy this book and give it to her without reading it, especially if you feel any pity for her. Buy it for yourself. Read it. Let it inform your relationship, and if you give it to her, let her know how it affected you. Do not judge this book by its cover. "Do you really want to know what it's like to be living (and really trying to love) a life you didn't expect?" asks Amy Taylor. "Read this book. This is what it's like."
Realistic. We all know that cliche, "The grass is greener on the other side," and we all know with our heads that the grass isn't necessarily greener. But the other side of the fence is still the other side and, for better or for worse, it seems like most people are over there, which can leave the unintentionally single person feeling pretty isolated, even defective. Even my divorced friends and relatives got to try being on the other side. I keep getting stuck between the rails and hung up on the barbed wire in trying to get across.
Being unintentionally single can leave a woman wondering if there's something wrong with her ... or if there's something wrong with single men. Or both.
Connally is very honest about her desire for a husband. What she doesn't dwell on is the biological clock. desire for children. In her equation, children are a matter of course: you get married, have kids. Or perhaps they're a moot point. In any case, she doesn't dwell on them. In my equation, they were the deal breaker, because I was anxious for children and did not want to imagine bearing them without a husband (unlike my friend who visited a sperm bank and came out with delightful twin boys born on my birthday). One can be married without children, but it's ideal to be married with children. It wasn't until I exposed to the air my raw wound of grief over not having children that I freed from my desperation to be married. Marriage can come at any time in life; children cannot -- and I had never wanted to get married post-menopausal. If I can release the suffocating desire for children to the Lord, and the perceived timeline that constricts my planning, then I am free to pursue any direction.
The problem is, I don't actually want to pursue any direction. What I want is the definition of having a husband. Even if that husband were to die early into the marriage, somehow it feels preferable, more acceptable, to trade the grief of longing for the grief of loss.
I had a dream that a friend's boyfriend planned an elaborate proposal, culminating at a Middle Eastern restaurant with a big group of friends. I conspired with him over the details, but in the end other people with lesser roles were allowed to watch, but I was excluded from witnessing the event. It felt like a slap in the face and left my stomach feeling vacant, in spit of the pile of yummy foreign food on my tray. I felt insignificant, even while congratulating them with my best cheerfulness.
See if you can find this book ...
Initially I emailed my rambling thoughts to a host of friends: they were so raw that I'm was not ready to post them on my blog, but I wanted to share this with someone while it was fresh. However, with the many and long responses from both singles and marries, I realized that my review had touched a nerve and that this is a subject which needs a voice.
So, here are some notes about the book:
Thus far, this excerpt has had the deepest impact on me. Perhaps it's because I can imagine Dr. Houston having this conversation with someone. In the context of the excerpt, Connally had been in Vancouver and visited Dr. Houston and his wife for an evening, eating, playing Scrabble, and talking. I have been in their home doing exactly the same things. I played Scrabble with Mrs. Houston once after a breakup. Someone recommended that I call her, so I did. She picked me up, since I didn't have a car, drove me to her home, put out the Scrabble and a pot of tea, and in her lovely motherly and matter-of-fact way helped me to face the fact that reorienting was going to take some time and pain. Here is Connally's encounter with Dr. Houston as he drove her back to her hotel:
"Dr. Houston quietly spoke. 'You've suffered much being single.' I couldn't tell if he was asking me or telling me. ... 'Your mother, too; she has suffered in your singleness.' ... I tightened my stomach, trying to muffle the chord his words had struck.
"'The question, of course,' he continued, 'is how will you suffer? Will you suffer with bitterness or will you suffer prophetically?' O Lord, I don't like how this sounds. 'You see, your generation is experiencing the fallout of a culture profoundly confused about who God is and therefore about what it is to be human and what it is to love. Your relational disappointments and suffering are, sadly, emblematic of the age. ... like the prophets of old, take the pain--which is also the pain of this culture--to the Lord. Seek his heard of love and direction for yourself and for others.'
"In retrospect, it was strange what that conversation with Dr. Houston did to and for me. Somehow, in linking the word 'suffer' to my unintentionally single state, he legitimized something at work in my guts, some pain that I wanted to avoid for very good reasons. ... in calling it 'suffering,' he was legitimizing a part of me that did ache at sleeping alone every night. And the simple acknowledgment--having the ache compassionately seen and known by another--did its own quiet, little miracle. Something in my guts unclenched.
"More than that, however, Dr. Houston's words flipped my why question on its head and left me asking, What now? How then should I live? I wasn't sure what living prophetically meant (images of wild-haired, wide-eyed, angry men cam to mind), but I knew at minimum it meant living in the truth. It meant admitting that the confusion plaguing me (and so many of the men and women around me) was real and not easily navigated. It meant owning my unmet desires and the related disappointment. And it also meant holding on to and holding up the goodness and the realness of God in the midst of it. Dr. Houston's words about suffering prophetically had felt like a gut-level punch. But in reality, they were more like the compassion-induced Heimlich maneuver, freeing me to live.
"For today I am called to be single. I cannot say about tomorrow." (pp130-131)
Dr. Houston is the founding prinicipal of Regent College in Vancouver. My first encounter with him was in taking a class at Briercrest Seminary. Then, in my first year as a student at Regent, I was in his community group, which was much like a group therapy session, with occasional social events. That same year I dated a lovely guy who was very wrong for me and we had a few "spiritual direction" sessions with Dr. Houston, who told me that a relationship is a catalyst not unlike conversion.
Dr. Houston and his wife Rita are a delightful Scottish couple. He is soft and ruminant, a stereotypically absent-minded professor. She is brusque and practical and keeps a very clean and homey house. They are perfect together.
Connally's writing is descriptive but not overdone with metaphors, skillfully paced. Her grade 12 English teacher warned the class, in so many words, that "Sarcasm isn't a wit substitute" (124). Well, Connally is witty, without stooping to sarcasm. Oh, she admits the temptation to be sarcastic, but she gracefully sidesteps it.
Cathartic. Several times I wept with relief that someone was articulating my experience, or because the book dredged up (expunged?) things that I had buried. I laughed too, at the comic relief Connally provides. I cried with Connally (ch.16), felt awkward with her at the New Year's party where she was embarrassed to be the only single, "the remainder," laughed with her at ___ ... I'm curious. I wish I had the money to buy up several copies and distribute them to single friends to see if they have similar emotional responses. It's true, as Amy Taylor writes in her endorsement, "Every friend, relative, and pastor of a single woman should read Revelations of a Single Woman." But hold on. If you're married or the parent of an unintentionally single woman, please do not buy this book and give it to her without reading it, especially if you feel any pity for her. Buy it for yourself. Read it. Let it inform your relationship, and if you give it to her, let her know how it affected you. Do not judge this book by its cover. "Do you really want to know what it's like to be living (and really trying to love) a life you didn't expect?" asks Amy Taylor. "Read this book. This is what it's like."
Realistic. We all know that cliche, "The grass is greener on the other side," and we all know with our heads that the grass isn't necessarily greener. But the other side of the fence is still the other side and, for better or for worse, it seems like most people are over there, which can leave the unintentionally single person feeling pretty isolated, even defective. Even my divorced friends and relatives got to try being on the other side. I keep getting stuck between the rails and hung up on the barbed wire in trying to get across.
Being unintentionally single can leave a woman wondering if there's something wrong with her ... or if there's something wrong with single men. Or both.
Connally is very honest about her desire for a husband. What she doesn't dwell on is the biological clock. desire for children. In her equation, children are a matter of course: you get married, have kids. Or perhaps they're a moot point. In any case, she doesn't dwell on them. In my equation, they were the deal breaker, because I was anxious for children and did not want to imagine bearing them without a husband (unlike my friend who visited a sperm bank and came out with delightful twin boys born on my birthday). One can be married without children, but it's ideal to be married with children. It wasn't until I exposed to the air my raw wound of grief over not having children that I freed from my desperation to be married. Marriage can come at any time in life; children cannot -- and I had never wanted to get married post-menopausal. If I can release the suffocating desire for children to the Lord, and the perceived timeline that constricts my planning, then I am free to pursue any direction.
The problem is, I don't actually want to pursue any direction. What I want is the definition of having a husband. Even if that husband were to die early into the marriage, somehow it feels preferable, more acceptable, to trade the grief of longing for the grief of loss.
I had a dream that a friend's boyfriend planned an elaborate proposal, culminating at a Middle Eastern restaurant with a big group of friends. I conspired with him over the details, but in the end other people with lesser roles were allowed to watch, but I was excluded from witnessing the event. It felt like a slap in the face and left my stomach feeling vacant, in spit of the pile of yummy foreign food on my tray. I felt insignificant, even while congratulating them with my best cheerfulness.
See if you can find this book ...
