This was the format I needed today. Thanks Jen!

~1~

Today I had an intense and meaningful conversation with two other moms while our children danced together in Ballet class.  One of the moms was going (as I was) to the ice park after the lesson, and she commented that we could renew the conversation once we got there.

“I don’t know,” I said. “It’s sort of exhausting.” She agreed and we parted.

I felt the need to check back in later and verify she understood what I meant.  At the ice rink I asked if my observation was offensive and she said, “No, I knew exactly what you meant and didn’t think of it again.”

Ah, the delight of having an equally introverted and honest friend.

~2~

I’ve been seeing a lot about “branding” lately, and it’s got me thinking again about my name, my domain/blog’s name and my “identity” on-line. The name “Untangling Tales” seems to have a lot of potential, and I have these vague ideas in my mind about the Ta of tales getting wrapped around the ta of Untangling…

And then I ask myself, What’s the point? and return to my regularly-scheduled diligence.

~3~

A month ago when I started packing to move God-know-where, I asked the Twitterverse for advice on how to thin my stuff.

I got advice on packing, which, while relevant, was not what I was seeking.

What I most wanted was How do I choose what stuff to keep and what to get rid of. Because, God knows, something’s got to go! I mean, I can live this way, but how can I *move* with all of it?

The answer came when I was forced to pare my kitchen down.

Jay had suggested I make a menu of 16 meals or so, and leave out the elements of those.

A very sensible, reasonable suggestion but I ended up not needing, because instead I went through the ingredients, herbs and spices on “instinct” and removed most everything I didn’t use without a recipe.

For dishes I left out everything I was constantly (re) washing, and therefore using.

And that looks like it is the key to everything: not just use but continual, frequent, and varied use. This is the kind of packing you don’t have to have your laundry done to do.

I’ll be verifying this tomorrow when the children are off on their all-afternoon playdate. ;)

~4~

On Saturday, the day after my kitchen discovery, I visited my favorite bookstore’s 50%-off everything day. I managed to come home with only five books, and one of those was It’s All Too Much.

In my desire for how-to-thin (my stuff) I imagined there must be a resource out there *somewhere* but had no Idea how to find it. So God gave it to me: a delightfully specific provision I didn’t even know how to look for.

Reminds me of the kinds of gifts my dad gave when I was growing up: I used to describe his gifts as “the thing I never knew I always wanted.”

~5~

One of the points the book’s author makes is that a lot of stuff-collecting is preparing for the future, and while this is not a problem in itself, the time required to manage too much of it can steal from your “now.”

I’ve been thinking of this for a month or two, and was already troubled by it, bothered by the idea that I spent more time acquiring and organizing to “be ready” but didn’t really have a structure to decide which part was the “too much” part. Because, I really do believe some of this is basic prudence.

~6~

The question that provided clarity was this: What does your ideal life look like?

One of my theories about why romances are so popular has to do with my guess that finding/choosing a life-partner is the last time anyone (or maybe it’s just Christians) are actively encouraged to think of themselves.
Think about it: “Are you happy?” “Make a list” “Know what you *won’t* settle for!” “Does he treat you right?” are common questions until one is married. Afterward (again for Christians in particular), you just deal. Why remind someone their life’s not perfect? And if it is, who wants to know? {grumblegrumble}

I agree with the author’s opinion that an important part of building a new life (with more life and less STUFF) is envisioning what you’d like it to look like– the kind of future you want, how you want to spend your time– so that your choices move you purposefully toward that goal, rather than vaguely hoping you’ll end up there.

So far my new-home list has two things (beyond the obvious): a well-trained dog, and a home that hosts well.

I want meaningful conversation in my home– I imagine hosting things like The Truth Project or the Crown Biblical Financial Study. And more even than that I want my kids to think of home as the place you bring people to get to know them better. I want them to be proud of their home and in the habit of opening it and seeing it opened.

It’s the model I had, and I want to perpetuate it.

~7~

I have a newborn in my hands.

Not literally, it is actually a relationship, but it seems lain in my arms fully formed, in all its wobbly-headed glory. And I am in heart-fluttering awe at the responsibility and beauty of it all.

For more 7 Quick Takes visit Jen’s Conversion Diary

Other 7 Quick Takes on Untangling Tales

I’ve only finished one book this year (though I’ve made use of many).

The “season of transition/discovery” is still on, so, just as I last year abandoned the no-buying-books idea that sounded really good January 1st, so I’ve let go any pre-imagined idea of reading and writing this season.

I am doing both, but they are being done in a utilitarian way, not in any way that could be called orderly or disciplined.

But then, that’s almost redundant to say on this blog, since that seems to be the regular pattern and progression of my growth.

Anyway, on to the book, finished clear back on January 6.

~ ~ ~

This was a fascinating example of story overcoming its way of being told.

I, along with many of the snarky unpublished, have at times commented in a vague (or not-so-vague) way about the amateur quality of writing in certain popular books.

With this day I hope I am done with such comments, being, I believe, founded largely on an assumed standard that (while useful) is frequently ignored without great loss.

What I speak of in this book isn’t just an over use of adverbs, or (just) telling versus showing, but the wrestling between my wanting to know what happens next and feeling slowed in that finding by the sloppy-choppy means of presentation.

You might gather from the rhythm of this writing that the book was written in a rather archaic and stilted style. (It is one of my characteristics– I almost wrote flaws— to fall into the rhythm of language I’ve been nearest.)

This book is reprinted from a series of missionary stories that took place in the first millenium A.D., recounting the entrance of the gospel into heathen Europe (in this story’s case, Germany, in 703).

It is a painfully beautiful example of God as the perfect writer, calling together all those circumstances, “coincidences” and personalities that create the most satisfying story.  The one we’re too cynical to “allow” or believe before we know it’s true— though everything happens as our heart tells us it “should.”

The only example I dare give is a pagan perjuring himself by his god and own right hand.  He loses that hand– but not as soon or in the way I expected.  And still, as seems to be the message of the whole story, God’s gracious compassion “conquers all.”

There is not always peace for the good (“You will have suffering in this world.“) but God will not be mocked.  His will is accomplished (“Be courageous! I have conquered the world.”).

It needs re-written.  It need a broader audience.  But (in a manner that I think the ESV translators also use) there is something with the stilted delivery, in it’s very austerity and clunkiness, that lends authority to the telling.

If I ever attempt Script Frenzy it might be on this narrative. I think for our jaded world to embrace this story we’d have to have some intensely sincere performances.  But with those it could soar.

This is an effective example of God’s divine orchestration of the lives of kings, and when/if this gets brought to film, I pray it is every bit as solemn, amazing and believable as it deserves to be.

The story itself is about a Christian girl who agrees to marry the pagan ruler of their corner of Germany in order to prevent to expulsion of the other Christian missionaries and their work.  She is a faithful wife and Christian, steadfastly standing for the unadulterated gospel while enduring slander and fear.

It is surprisingly romantic (in both senses of the word) and my only excuse for not having a more coherent review is that I’d have to translate the story itself first.

As it stands the best I feel I can do is give a very exciting list of bullet points, and that hardly seems appropriate for a book review.

It was Sol Stien who advised the benefit/necessity of looking at one’s whole novel, then cutting the weakest chapter. This leaves the whole remaining work stronger and forces tighter writing.

Then you do it again.  And again. Until you literally cannot do it again without destroying the essence of the story.

Then, I suppose, you move on to doing the same with paragraphs.

My goal (like I said) is to get down another 20,000 words (if at all possible) because I have two scenes I want to experiment with adding (back) in.

And, yes, this number’s arbitrary.  Yes, I’m mostly interested in the book being “the best it can be” but it is useful to look at books I admire, with fully realized relationships and worlds and see that possible in less than 85,000.

There might be a couple holes– I’d want to re-read before naming names here on the blog, but I can’t imagine patching those would have to add 25% to the word-count.

Anyway, my hat’s in the ring.

And if any readers want to leave a vote for most-necessary-to-keep, or candidate best for cutting, I will certainly bring that under consideration.

Currently Reading: The Princess Adelina (Sutter)

I’ll be trying something different with my mini-reviews this year, putting them in their own posts and tagging them with 2010 Books.  I had too many times last year when I wanted to reference a specific book and found the 2009 books page too big a fish to offer as one bite.

If a book does not incite curiosity or delight
there is no reason outside of requirement to read it.

I’ll not apologize for choosing anything not to finish (though I might offer my reasons).

Also new for 2010 is joining my husband (and our church, for that matter) in working through M’Cheyne’s bible-in-a-year reading plan.  I have never finished one of these, but it feels just a tiny bit like NaNoWriMo to plan/imagine doing something challenging in concert with a herd of people I know and love.

Perhaps that designation is redundant.

I still remember when I was 13 or so, and watching one of the boys in my class chasing a bead of mercury around his desk, and rolling it in his palm.  I remember looking at that tight drop of silver and trying to wrap my mind around the idea that *metal* was doing that.

And now I find myself in a life-stage that seems very like that bead.

I am solid, I am “held together,” but I’m also moving quicker than I expected in unplanned directions.  Things that have been givens forever are now in flux.

• I am a reader. I read like crazy, and always have a story, anecdote or factual information about, well, anything that might come up.
  • But I haven’t finished a book in 2 months.
• I’m a writer.
  • But I write very little these days
• I am a musician.  I find both identity and peace in music
  • But I am not dedicated in practice, and have let opportunities pass with relief
• For 30 years I didn’t think or care care much about what went in my mouth, now in 5 months I’ve completely overhauled my eating habits.
• And my exercise-life.

And of course there’s more, but that stuff is actually personal.

The point is, you ask me– yesterday, today or tomorrow– what I’m like or who I am (or is this who I am) and I honestly believe it would be truth to say “yes.”

I am not who I was, but it is not yet clear who I will be.

This is like adolescence + maturity. Not a fearful thing, only a happening thing.  One I have been quietly reassured by ladies not-much-older-than-me is as normal in personal development as any other stage of Finding Oneself.

Only, here (at this age and life-stage) especially, I cannot forget that it is in Losing Self that I am found.

The delightful– and peace-offering– element in the midst of this is that I am far from unique in this flowing uncertainty:

Dear friends, we are God’s children now, and what we will be has not yet been revealed. We know that when He appears, we will be like Him, because we will see Him as He is.

1 John 3:2

This, most of all, is what I’m looking forward to.  My uncertainty is a terrifically small thing when Christ is what, whom, I’m rolling toward.

As in, it’s snowed at last.

So many unique moments congeal in these first days of snow each year.

Things like remembering how to drive (and pitying those less-lucky while hoping to be far from them), enjoying snow wet enough to stick together and (MOST significant to me) the increased *light*!

Yes, more light.

You see, the sun has been setting earlier and earlier since, well, since June, but noticeably (i.e., before bedtime) for several weeks.  Our neighborhood has no streetlights, and I’ve come home from several evening walks in complete darkness. (You’d think this would be hard to do in the middle of a city.)

Last night I went grocery shopping after the kids were down and I was giggly (yes, I’m this way about light) at the glowing earth and sky.

With the low clouds, still-falling snow, and unsullied blanket of white gathering everywhere it was like walking through an orangey Kinkade-glow wherever I went.  Even in my neighborhood the reflective moment has been enough to catch and magnify every house light.

It won’t last forever.  Once it’s done snowing the streets will be kept clear and they, at least, will be black again.  We’ll forget how the snow blesses us in this dark season until spring, when it’s gone to mud and we remember once more that even Winter is not as dark as it could be.