Staycation

These past two weeks I’ve been on a staycation, a pandemic vacation. That means I’ve disconnected from my regular duties and routines and done things that refreshed me body and soul while staying mostly at home. So, I binge watched some old Seinfeld, watched a movie about Mary Shelley, read two e-books, bought a new bedspread at Big Lots, went canoeing with my husband, and found a pretty basket at my dump’s swap shop. Doesn’t sound very exciting, so let me explain why it was a fabulous!

First, what was I taking a vacation from? For the past few months, I’ve been in the final throes of publishing a book about what God taught me through a traumatic chapter in my life as a teacher, Teacher Dropout, Finding Grace in an Unjust School. That means a vulnerable part of my life is now visible to readers who may judge me and/or my art. Obviously, this is not why I wrote a book. Rather, I hoped to share my experience and insights, in order that others who resonate with my story may gain insight into their own struggles.

Why was fear of judgement my first thought after I pressed the final send button to launch my book on Amazon? Because I self-published. Anyone can do it, and just because your words are in print, doesn’t mean they’re worth reading. Sounds harsh, but this is what was in my head. In the past, self-publishing was considered vanity press. Authors who couldn’t attract the attention of a traditional publisher paid large sums just to see their words on a page. Now that my book is available to the public, will it prove valuable to others or prove me a vain fool?

To reset my brain from negative chatter at a time that should feel satisfying and triumphant, I read Emily P. Freeman’s, The Next Right Thing When Emily challenged her reader to name the narrative that was driving their decisions, I realized my anxiety about promoting my book was because I’d skipped the step of being chosen by publishing professionals. How then, could I be sure of my book’s caliber? Maybe because I’m adopted, or maybe because I’m just human, I have a desperate need to be chosen not rejected. Chosen means valued, significant, seen, worth something. There’s that word again, worth. I thought I knew better than to equate the worth of my writing with my worth as a person. Ironically, Teacher Dropout is about defining my worth as a child of God through Christ rather than my professional status. Maybe I’m relearning the same old lesson in this new chapter of my life as a writer. Maybe this question will always dog me, dog us all, if we don’t cling to what God’s Word says about us, instead of relying on the world’s opinion.

Speaking of new chapters, another bit of wisdom from Emily was it’s okay to be a beginner at things you’ve never done. This helped me relax into all I need to learn about lead magnets, public speaking, YouTube, podcasts, etc. even if it feels overwhelming, especially for an introvert.

The other book I read was Adorning the Dark by Andrew Peterson, all about the creative process. The major takeaway, for me, was that community nourishes art and art nourishes community. This concept ran through my head as I watched Seinfeld and the story of Mary Shelley, wife of a famous poet, and author of Frankenstein. Whether comic or tragic, fictional or true, both Seinfeld and Shelley lived in communities that directly influenced their art. Even if I chose to self-publish, I was not alone. Everyone who had encouraged my writing, critiqued it, or listened to my thoughts and feelings through the writing process was a critical part of bringing my book to fruition. According to Peterson, artistic community is something I must continue to pursue.

Another thing I got from Peterson is that beauty matters. Natural beauty, the beauty of a home and its surroundings. In a way, he gave me permission to spend my staycation puttering around my house and garden. As a writer, I’m always editing what I put on the page. As a woman, I’m always editing my home, trying to find a theme, or a pleasing palette. As a treasure hunter, I’m always looking for that small item, put in the perfect spot that ties a room together like the kicker at the end of an essay.

One day, to escape the heat, I browsed in an air-conditioned Big Lots with an idea from Pinterest for refreshing my bedroom. In a bargain bin, I found a bedspread complete with decorator pillows that made the whole room look new.

Saturday, I took my weekly trip to the dump, and in the shed where you can take or leave useful items, I found a small basket in the shape of a star. I wasn’t sure what I’d do with it. Maybe a Christmas decoration? Anyway, I brought it home because something about it pleased me.

That evening, my husband and I took our green canoe to a small pond for a cool paddle before dusk. We meandered the perimeter passing a stone dam decked with Queen Anne’s lace, a family of mallards, and a great blue heron flushed from shore by the quiet swish of our old boat.

Lying in bed that night, I reviewed my staycation’s quiet refreshments: how reading Emily P. Freeman on my back porch helped me name the deeper things beneath my decisions. How Andrew Peterson was right, gliding over glassy water in a silent canoe with the man who promised to love me for better or worse, was a tangible echo of God’s omnipotent love whether I’m full of doubt or confidence.

As I pulled up my cozy new comforter, I scanned the room. Satisfied with its new harmony, my gaze fell upon the star I’d decided to hang above my mirror, the free star someone else had discarded. And I saw, even though I’d decided not to use it as a Christmas decoration, it was still a symbol of the babe who was God incarnate. That star was the one thing, in the perfect spot, that somehow pulled the whole room together, and I thought, the theme of my whole staycation.

Now, every morning when I consider my reflection, I’ll look up and remember the one who chose me and gave me stories I have to tell, Jesus, the person Emily calls, the smartest person in the universe, willing to take my hand as I take one step at a time in my new adventure as a writer. What could be more refreshing?