Hope, Writing

The Waiting

My heart is heavy today. Not with distress or sadness, but with weighty thoughts and the unshakable need to pray. Yesterday did not end until 2 a.m. today, as I couldn’t bear to put down a particular novel I’d started reading earlier this week. The very satisfying ending did so much more than leave me happy. It compelled me to pray, to fall into the Lord’s hands and ask the questions I fear asking.

Besides the book, two other things have me asking those questions. One is a potential relationship I’d been excited to pursue until I was stopped in my tracks by a conflicting relationship. I feel I must step back and let it go, though I wish, wish, wish that wasn’t required. I am tempted to be selfish in this case, to not think of others with higher regard than myself, as the Scriptures would advise. Secondly, there is the reality that I have yet to hear back from the single, desirable publisher who has said they are considering my novel. No word for what feels like half a year, though it’s been a bit less than that, and no new ideas for who else to send the manuscript to when the likely negative answer is received. I cannot pretend I know what to do next.

This morning I read an article that continued the route my heart had taken up last night. The phrase “faithfully serving the Lord where He had placed [me]” keeps circling my mind. The author’s use of it had a nature of waiting and of contentment, allowing God to bring more into her life without specifically pursuing the ‘more’ at the expense of the ‘now.’ Perhaps it is the discouragement winning out against the drowning optimism, but I am nagged by the question of whether or not I am running from contentment. Do I write in order to avoid fully engaging in the placement the Lord has given me? Do I write because I am trying to create a life of my own planning and pursuit, rather than His? Because it’s begun to feel that way. If I gave it up and immersed myself in the circumstances in which He has placed me, would I be glad for doing so? Would I be grateful to be rid of that ongoing frustration of not being able to immerse myself in both? Or would I be sacrificing a calling, shutting down some of the life in me?

My prayer last night (or this morning, rather) ended with the idea of hope. I hope for things unseen, as every hope must be. My hope is for plans and life and love, unseen by me. But not by Him. I guess I just want to be where He prefers me to be, and do what He prefers me to do. I don’t want to have my back turned as He’s bringing a plan to fruition in my life, as He’s opening a door. I don’t want to pursue the ‘more’ at the expense of the ‘now’, but I do so passionately want more than there is now.

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