Try Again

“I was that far from pitching the whole thing right straight into the fireplace!”

She was that far from tears, too.

My friend was so frustrated after her first book proposal was rejected that she wanted to burn her manuscript and wondered if she really should even be a writer.

And, her passion and determination to make a decision whether to give up or keep writing as she talked to me,

woke up my poetry gene.

I remember those feelings.

Bright leaping flames in the fireplace
A red-yellow study of arson and lace
Beckon me feed it these papers I hold
Truly, I want to, if the truth be told.

The pages engulfed in the frenzied inferno
Would satisfy something so deeply internal
To see them consumed in the hot conflagration
To see them destroyed would soothe agitation.

But what if God asks me to try once again
To review and pursue and pick up my pen
To steel all my shakiness, regroup and pray
It might be for my soul, a much better day.

So, Lord, if I turn my back on the fire
And stare at these pages with fresh new desire
Will you kindle in me your sparks, and renew
The dream you placed in my heart so to do?

Please lead me and guide me—stay by my side
O, Lord, inspire me as you change the tide.

+ + +

My friend and I are both thankful we decided to never, ever give up!

“And let us not grow weary of doing good, for in due season we will reap, if we do not give up” (Galatians 6:9 ESV).

“But you, be strong and do not let your hands be weak, for your work shall be rewarded!” (2 Chronicles 15:7 NKJV)

“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future” (Jeremiah 29:11 NIV).

“For the vision is yet for an appointed time; but at the end it will speak, and it will not lie. Though it tarries, wait for it; because it will surely come, it will not tarry” (Habakkuk 2:3 NKJV)

Have you ever been tempted to give up on a dream of your own?

I’d for you to leave a comment!

Love,

Sally

About the Norman Rockwell painting photo by Cliff via Flickr CC

Jo Seated on the Old Sofa from “The Most Beloved American Writer”, Woman’s Home Companion, December 1937, oil on canvas, 32 x 25 in.

Rockwell traveled to Louisa May Alcott’s home in Concord, Massachusetts, before beginning illustrations for a serialized biography of her life. Alcott’s book, Little Women, became an immediate classic when it was published in 1868, and was a hit again in 1933 when George Cukor’s film adaptation won an Oscar for Best Screenplay. Its message—that family counts more than wealth, and happiness comes to those who help the less fortunate—was an apt revival subject in Depression-era America.

americanart.si.edu/exhibitions/online/tellingstories/

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The Innkeeper’s Son

“Joseph also went up from Galilee, out of the city of Nazareth, into Judea, to the city of David, which is called Bethlehem, because he was of the house and lineage of David, to be registered with Mary, his betrothed wife, who was with child. So it was, that while they were there, the days were completed for her to be delivered. And she brought forth her firstborn Son, and wrapped Him in swaddling cloths, and laid Him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn” (Luke 2:4-7 NKJV).

~Caesar Augustus requires the world to register, and Bethlehem, the City of David, is teeming with people who must comply by the deadline Augustus has set. Places for the registrants to stay are few and full.

One inn at the edge of town is no exception. Inside the overflowing structure, a precocious little boy lives with his parents, owners of the rustic inn. He senses much more within the crowd . . .

The Innkeeper’s Son

I am five and it is late
Noisy, crowded, at the gate
Pushing at my father’s knee
He ignores my whispered plea
“A Baby’s coming soon,” I said
Anxious urgent words I pled.
“Go to bed my little son
I have much that must be done.”

Mother’s sitting at the table
I reach as high as I am able
My hands encircle her sweet face
Her eyes are filled with love and grace
I draw her face down close to mine
“A Baby’s coming—there is a sign.”
“It’s time for sleep my dear, good son
You’re tired and dreaming, little one.”

Joseph’s knocking at the door
Mary cannot travel more.
“I’m sorry, sir, there is no room—”
But I am here with my small broom.
“Father I have cleaned the stable
They can stay if they are able
Never mind the ox and sheep
They will sing the Babe to sleep.”

A star turns night back into day
My father slowly leads the way
Mary smiles and takes my hand
Joseph bends to help her stand.
My mother stays there thru the night,
And lingers till the morning light
Then at dawn she looks toward me,
“Come here my son come here and see.”

Silently I near His bed
“You may touch Him,” Mary said.
Doves are watching from the loft,
I smooth and hold His hand so soft.
He looks at me, and in His eyes
Shines light as bright as morning skies.
“Thank you, God, this Baby came,
And that Jesus is His name.”

Manger-Baby Blessed One
Gentle Shepherd Precious Son
May we on Your day of birth
Speak Good News throughout the earth.

Sally Chambers

For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him should not perish but have everlasting life. John 3:16

God bless each of you, and have a joyous, Merry Christmas!

See you in January~

Love,

Sally