Laboring for Our Unearned Gifts

“To trust, to be truly whole, is also to let go whatever we may consider our qualifications. There’s a paradox here, and a trap for the lazy. I do not need to be “qualified” to play a Bach fugue on the piano . . . but I cannot play that Bach fugue at all if I do not play the piano daily, if I do not practice my finger exercises. There are equivalents of finger exercises in the writing of books, the painting of portraits, the composing of a song. We do not need to be qualified; the gift is free; and yet we have to pay for it.”   Madeleine L’Engle Walking on Water  

I posted a few weeks ago about being unqualified for this writing gig. And my dancing gig. Seems I’ve reached a mid-life perfect storm of God’s lifelong gifts being brought to the surface during an opportune season. But that very paradox that ML’E asserts to be a trap—laziness— is always just under the surface, tempting me to waste away.

Though I’m extremely grateful, and aware, that these unearned opportunities have been shared with me, I also know me. I know how self-centered, self-gratifying, pleasure-seeking, shortcut-taking, excuse-making, and distracted I can be. It’s not pretty. I’d like to blame it on being an only child, from “Generation Me” of the 80’s, but I’m a grownup that really must take ownership of personal bad habits, at some point.

That point came along at the halfway mark in Book One of The Tethered World. It was getting hard to see how I’d be able to arrange for certain events to happen to my characters without conflicting with other story lines. There were quandaries and predicaments that came up and caused more angst and mental gymnastics than I had anticipated.

I’ve found myself in similar situations before. Though I may not have been writing a book, I’m the the type to have a lot of gumption to start something and no steam to finish. I’ve always lacked stick-to-it-ive-ness, easily flitting from idea to idea, becoming proficient with excuses.

And the guilt sort of tails me like a permanent stalker.

But in the midst of my book, by God’s grace, I recognized this pitiful trait and decided “not this time!” I had to, I mean HAD to get to the end of my book and type the words “The End.” There was no room to argue with myself, and really, no temptation to do so. God graciously showed me my usual pattern of behavior and gave me a strong desire to be diligent.

And now, I’m halfway finished with Book Two and having the same struggle, *sigh.*

Though the temptation is not so much to quit as to avoid. I’ve made up a new form of procrastination called diversicrastination. Yup. It’ll be one of those new words that gets adopted by some online dictionary—like ginormous did—once it catches on! With diversicrastination I avoid one project by working on a closely related project, diversifying my skills. If I don’t feel like delving into my loose ended story, why I can work on my blog, read a blog, comment on a blog, or play Words With Friends (it’s a stretch but I’m capable of believing that word games help with the writing process).

You can see that this particular quote from ML’E strikes at a personal problematic spot for me. I’ve never been one to like to do my “finger exercises” or the equivalent thereof. If I recognized this harmful pattern of lameness earlier in my life, perhaps a book would have sprung up before I reached middle age. I cringe to think of God recounting the moments I’ve wasted, even today.

Creative ideas are such a gift. They’re given to you and me each day, at no cost. Often in abundance. There are so many ways that music or pictures or story lines drift into our conscience and draw out our imagination. But then . . . what then . . .?

Then we have to pay for it.

If you’ll excuse me, I have some finger exercises to do, and a book to write. How about you?