An Interlude: Observing an Anniversary

November 12, 2014

Dear Constant Readers,

I took some time at the beginning of this week to mark my anniversary.  This was not the anniversary that I happily share with Lynn.  It is a more somber one - the anniversary of the day I became ill with Chronic Fatigue Syndrome on November 10, 2001.  Monday marked the thirteenth year with this disease.  Thirteen years…  At the onset, I could have never imagined that I would still be struggling with this illness.

I marked this particular anniversary with reflection and introspection.  I felt sad, but not necessarily depressed.  I allowed myself to mourn what has been lost during what should have been my more productive years.  I thought about what might have been had I not become ill - what I would have done with my life, how I might have spent those years.  I also found myself thinking about what I have gained during this period.  I believe that I have a much stronger relationship with Lynn and my children than I might have had if I remained in active ministry.  I believe that I have grown both spiritually and philosophically because of my struggle.  And though I have spent so much time alone in solitude during these years, I have discovered peace and serenity in my aloneness.  I might have been alone, yet I was not often lonely.  Lastly, I discovered that I am a much stronger person that I believed myself to be in 2001.  I have survived a life disabling condition, but I am still me.  It has not crushed nor destroyed me.  I have persevered.

As I said, my anniversary did not depress me, but it did make me sad.  I don’t think I realized it, but I needed companionship on that particular day.  Serendipitously, I checked my email and found a post from a good friend of mine, Karl.  Karl has recently undergone back surgery and the recovery period has taken much longer than he expected.  On Monday, he, too, was in the mood for companionship and asked if I was available to come over to visit.  Of course, I said yes.  Maybe this was an answer to a prayer I didn't know I had uttered.

After lunch, I went to see Karl.  We spent over two hours in a lively and very spiritual conversation (though not necessarily religious).  We ruminated over all manner of things, but we kept coming back to the topic about where we find meaning for life.  We discussed the many things that give our lives meaning and purpose.  Together, we shared our mutual sense of sadness that we found ourselves in that day.  But we also shared our mutual sense of joy in life itself and in the friendship we share.  By the time it came to leave, I was filled with gratitude and happiness that I had been without earlier in the day.  I’m so glad that I had such a good friend in Karl with whom to share my anniversary.  That visit filled an emptiness in me that I didn't realize I possessed earlier that day.  As the saying goes, life may not always give you what you want, but it sometimes gives what you need.

With gratitude and grace,

Stephen

Where Has He Been?

November 3, 2014

Dear Constant Readers,

In my last regular blog post, a couple of weeks or so ago, I told you that I was going to a writers conference and that I planned to take approximately a week off to recuperate.  When that leisurely week came and went, I sat down to compose another thrilling installment of "Confessions of a Second Grade Failure."  But alas, the words would not come and the page remained blank - and lo and behold, yet another week past.  This time it was not leisurely or refreshing, but filled with angst and self-loathing.  The words just were not there.  Try hard as I might, I had no tale to tell.  The writer, Natalie Goldberg, calls this state of being as having the “monkey mind.”  It’s like a monkey sits on your shoulder and whispers in your ear, “You are not really a writer.  Your words are no good.  The story is not worth telling.  Give it up now before you embarrass yourself.”

Today, I have decided to tell the monkey on my shoulder just where he should go.  Today, I choose to write, and in so doing, believe that I have a story that is indeed worth telling.  I share this with you, dear readers, by way of explanation and not as a cry of self-pity.  It is what it is.  Some writers call it “writer’s block,” but I like Goldberg’s “monkey mind” much better.

Now, with that out of the way, let me tell you a little about what I’ve been up to the last couple of weeks.  October 17-19, I attended the James River Writers Conference here in Richmond.  All in all, about 300 people attended.  I attended workshops and panel discussions.  I met authors, famous and not-yet, and we talked about our passions and projects.  And yes, on that Saturday morning, I did meet with a literary agent and pitched my book ideas.  She was very kind and generous with her time.  She asked good questions about my writing projects.  When my time with her was up, she requested that I send her sample chapters around the middle of November when her reading load will be a little lighter.  So, for all of you who offered up prayers or who sent good thoughts, thank you!  They did not go unheeded.  So now, my future as a writer lies in the quality of my writing that I’m about to send to her.  Now you can imagine why I became so flustered this past week!  But, I remind myself, all will be well - no matter what the outcome.

I have spent my time since the conference reading good books, storing up words as a squirrel stores up acorns.  I have also poured through old family photos and watched movies my dad first recorded with an 8mm camera.  I still have the original film and projector, but thankfully, before he died, Dad had these wonderful movies transferred onto VCR tape.  Someday soon, I hope to digitize them myself to save them for the next generation.  This time looking at old pictures and home movies is not about indulging myself in nostalgia, but mining my mind for memories.  It has been time well spent.

Well, this is all that I have in me today.  Tomorrow, with the “monkey mind” banished, I will attempt to compose a new chapter for my emerging memoir.  I hope to share this with you before the week is out.

Humbly yours,

Stephen