December 2004

Before I started writing fiction, I wrote poetry. Soon after I turned the poetry to music lyrics and even tried my hand at accompanying melody. Not that any of it is worth repeating, though I did sing a few of the songs in church way back when. Still, the words portray feelings I embodied then and which ring ever true in my heart. Here’s one of them:

My Lord and King

by Jill Eileen Smith

Verse One
Along life’s roads
There’ll always be
What seems to me
An impasse
Between the now
And yet to be
The “in-the-meantime”
In betweens.

Chorus
And that is when
It’s hard to say
With gladdened heart
Thy will obey.
For in the wait
It’s hard to sing
Thy will be done
My Lord and King.

Verse Two
When want is strong
Desire’s long
The heart can’t find
The patience song.
We know ’tis best
To trust and rest
For at the last
We will be blessed.

Chorus
And that is when
It’s hard to say
With gladdened heart
Thy will obey.
For in the wait
It’s hard to sing
Thy will be done
My Lord and King.

Verse Three
Yet all along
Now I can see
This trust is what
You want from me.
To understand
Or know Your plan
Just trust in faith
I know I can.

Chorus Two
For this is when
It’s best to say
With gladdened heart
Thy will obey
For in the wait
I’ll trust and sing
Thy will be done
My Lord and King.

These were my feeble attempts during those earlier years of writing, small gifts to the Lord, like the Little Drummer Boy who had only a song to play for the King. Though years have come and gone and my skills are more refined than they were back then, I imagine the songs of my heart still please Him when they honor Him.

The Little Drummer Boy played his best for Him. I want to write my best for Him too.

My first attempts at digging up writing (which I’d buried for 8 years) started with poetry. I decided to share some of those old poems with whomever might read these posts. They’re not anything spectacular and probably wouldn’t win any awards, but they were from my heart and I dare say, they still hold the same truths I tried to express back then. I hope you enjoy them.

NEVER TOO LATE

by Jill Eileen Smith

It’s never too late,
Though time is slipping fast
To make amends
For troubled hurts now past.
To reach a hand
Though riddled now with age.
It’s not too late
To stop – rewrite the page.

It’s never too late
To let them know you care
Though time and distance
Separate you there.
To be the first
Let’s bridge the gap and then
It’s not too late
To start all over again.

It’s never too late
To hold the distant one
Though it be father, daughter,
Mother, friend, or son.
To speak the words
“I love you from my heart.”
It’s not too late
It’s only time to start.

It isn’t too late – as long as there is breath and a willing heart. I pray this Christmas that if you are estranged from your loved ones, that you will take that first step to make things right. As the Scripture says, “As far as it depends on you, be at peace with all men.”

There will come a day when it will be too late. Until then, isn’t it time to make things right?

I’ve been thinking about dreams. Not the dreams we have while we’re sleeping, but the kind that spring from the core of our being, the aspirations, the goals, the desires we hope to fulfill in our lives.

I’ve noticed that there are people who have no ambition, nothing to strive for, no lofty goal that would stretch them beyond their current capabilities. I find this attitude extremely sad. For without dreams and goals to press on toward the future, what do we do with our lives?

For those of us who name the Name of Christ, to live without such purpose is an oxymoron. How can a Christian be without goals and dreams? If nothing else, we have the hope of eternity with our Lord and Savior, and the desire to do all to please Him now should permeate our lives. What works has He called us to do? Should we not work at them with all of our hearts?

I also know plenty of people with big dreams, who are working hard to achieve them. And that’s good. Writers who are called to write, should strive for excellence, to be the best writer that God created them to be. Musicians who are called to play an instrument or sing should work at their craft, ever growing and learning. Artists, directors, small business owners, teachers, missionaries, engineers, evangelists – whatever God has called us to do – we are working for the Lord, not for men. Never settle for mediocre or work just to get by. Strive to give God your best, no matter what anyone else thinks.

Still, some of us won’t see those dreams fulfilled. But that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t dream them or work toward them anyway. God didn’t call us to succeed. He didn’t promise to give us all that we long for in this life. He did call us to obedience, and part of that obedience is giving our all to Him.

Ultimately, God is the audience we write to, sing to, teach to, work to. He is the one who will judge our works and someday, perhaps, He will explain to us why things didn’t always go the way we’d hoped. Why the longings we felt sure were placed within us by His Spirit went unfulfilled. Someday, in the quiet of heaven, perhaps He will take us aside, hand in hand, and remind us that the dreams were all just a part of drawing us closer to Him.

After all, even if our loftiest goals came true in this life, they can’t even compare to the glory that will one day be revealed in us. The glory that He promised we would one day behold when we see Him face to face. What greater desire is there than this – that I would look on Him and someday be like Him?

That’s the stuff our dreams should be made of…

December should be the time for baking and shopping and present wrapping, visits with loved ones and sharing God’s love – not spending time in hospitals for medical procedures. But with insurance deductibles met, it is the best time to fit in those last minute doctor visits or medical tests.

My husband and our youngest son found themselves hospital patients these past few days. Our son had his tonsils out and is still suffering. I suspect he will be struggling with sore throats for at least another week. My husband didn’t have to undergo nearly as much pain, just a medical test and a failed root canal. So now he has to have the tooth extracted and a bridge put in. And all in time for Christmas!

In the midst of all of this I’ve done little writing. I’m too busy playing nursemaid. Still, I have had the privilege of critiquing a book for a fellow author, a friend whose work I sincerely admire. This novel, dealing with mental retardation needs to be published. It is marvelously written, and she handled the subject with such hope and faith in God, that one can’t help but be touched, if not changed, after reading it.

This book is my friend’s passion. Some people say write what you know. Others tell you to write what will sell. Still more will say write your passion – after all, if you don’t care about your story, who will? I think, at times, there is a place for all three suggestions. But the stories that will hold lasting takeaway value will be those that are written from the heart.

I’ve tried to do that with most of my books, but given the discouraging year I’ve had, I wonder sometimes if I’ve succeeded. It is bitter medicine to swallow, knowing there is little market for our passion. At least not at this time. Maybe next year. (Can’t give up hope, now can I?) :)

So while I wait for that elusive someday, which I hope is soon, I decided to dig up an old story that I never finished and see what I could do with it. I have to say, I love these characters, and want to spend time with them. I know the question I want answered, and I’m anxious to see how they go about finding those answers.

I won’t have the experience of actually living what I’m writing about – as my friend with the story of mental retardation. But the question I want answered is one I think about often and it tugs at my heart nonetheless.

In this is where the seeds of passion lie.

If we’ve lived a subject, we care deeply about it – and it will usually show in our work, if we allow ourselves to bleed on paper. If we haven’t lived it, but the questions we hope to answer burn within us, we will still care deeply enough to research – to find what we are looking for. Hopefully, this will give me what I need to write a story from my heart.

In the meantime, while I ruminate about what is going to happen next, my son is in need of a milk shake to coat his burning throat. Time to play nursemaid once again…