January is the month where we begin again, and in doing so inevitably re-evaluate where we’ve been and what we’ve done. Do we want to keep doing it? Does it matter? Is there somewhere else we want to go? Something else more important we need to spend our time on.
A quick perusal of last year’s posts tells me I wrote about alcoholism and its effect on family members, death, grief, regret, high school reunions, childhood friends and frenemies, being adopted, finding my true name, and biological siblings. I wrote about introverts and extroverts, about the mystery of the writing process and how to turn fact into fiction. I wrote about my father, my mother, the craft of hope, and unwrapping yourself from the spider glue of your past.
No matter the subject, I always strive to take you with me, dear reader, into a specific life experience that imprinted my identity, self-worth, and place in the universe. I offer you the shot gun seat in my story mobile, so together we can blast into my past and out the other side towards God’s unconditional love.
If as authors we write not merely for our own satisfaction, but to serve our readers, perhaps January is also a good time for audience participation to find out how our work is being received. What resonates? What hits the spot? What does not? And why?
Therefore I’d love to know a little bit about you, dear readers. What is it about my essays in subject and style that draws you in, and keeps you reading? What’s useful or encouraging? Please tell me a little bit about yourself and why you read my blog in the comments.
I guess I want to know what’s worth your while because that’s what’s worth my time as a writer.
In another month I will turn 69 years old, the big 70 a mere twelve months beyond that.
Some people pick a word for the new year. I’ve never done that before, but this year the Lord has impressed me with the word complete. So if I could make a New Year’s resolution and live it out, this is what I’d resolve — to complete the work the Lord has put me here to do.
Let’s make every day count. Happy New Year!
Cover photo by Aron Visuals on Unsplash
Ann, I have loved reading your blog. I appreciate you being vulnerable with us and trusting us with your life; where you’ve been and we you are now. I hear many speak about “Shame” and “Fear” these days. God is honored with truth and allowing others pray for us. Where is the line drawn with sharing our hearts with others? What makes it that you trust us with the deepest parts of your heart? That is a journey. I’ve always felt; I have paid a very high price for what I have experienced; my “Marah’s” and I don’t give it away cheaply. I’ve listened many stories over the years of my work, but it’s rare I share my own.
Thanks for your comment, Cathy. In answer to your question, I can only share the places where God has replaced my pain and shame with his love. You’re right, it’s a journey, a process, and I know your marahs are deep. Author Sharon Jaynes says God doesn’t want us comfortable. He wants us comfort able, able to comfort others with the comfort we’ve received from Him. You’ll know when it’s time to share one of your stories and with whom. You are wise and kind Cathy and I love you.
I love you Ann, I appreciate our friendship . I enjoy reading your blog essays because it helps me to know you better- you invite your readers to walk along with you as you share your stories. The way you remember details spark memories in me of earlier times. You share how life impacted you and how you responded with an openness that acknowledges God’s presence in your life . Even in the difficult, painful times, you are free to share how you feel and respond to the situations knowing that God is with you, loving you fully as you are- this knowledge seems to give you a freedom in your writing . Your stories offer an invitation to come, listen and see God’s faithfulness, not in fixing everything and making it look nice and neat but in being present with you and loving you through it. Thank you for sharing your life in stories. ❤️ Julie
Oh, dear friend, thanks for taking the time to articulate exactly what I’m trying to do. I couldn’t have said it better myself.