Robin Gilbert Luftig's Blog, page 46

Healing a Broken Spirit

Stories of people with broken spirits are threaded throughout the scriptures. Elijah wanting to die (1 Kings 19). The widow with the last of her olive oil (2 Kings 4).  The woman the issue of blood (Luke 8:40-47). Even Jesus wept, asking His Heavenly Father to take the cup He needed to drink from him (Luke 22:39-45).

Turning to God for help made the difference, and it makes the difference for us. Here’s a short poll for those how have a favorite go to scripture to get them through dark times. I know I have mine own. But I want to hear yours!

Take Our Poll

I can’t wait to hear what you have to say.

PA-ACFW Conference

Hey friends! I’m speaking in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania on November 5th for the 2nd Annual Keystone Christian Fiction Writers’ Conference! If you’re in the area, come and spend the day with us. It’s going to be fun, informative and hopefully inspiring. I would love to have you stop by my class and share some time with me there. Agents from Hartline Agency will be there. Jeanette Windle is the Keynote and other published authors will be there to share their knowledge and support.

You can find more information at the Pennsylvania ACFW website.

Hope to see you there!

Write What You Know

I always thought being a Christian fiction writer was the next thing to sainthood. Not only did the author write the most entertaining story possible, but they also left the reader with a message. Their story had a purpose.

When I decided to write fiction I struggled with all the criteria I felt I needed to meet. Would my story be believable? Could I show Christ like I wanted to? Would my words sound preachy? I stressed over my fears for months until I remembered a simple quote from Mark Twain that set me free.

“Write what you know.”

I am a Christian. I live a Christian life because of my love for Christ. I strive to do good, but so often fail. I know what it means to live in a fallen world. I know heartache and other emotions—sorrow, joy, fear, disappointment, struggle with vengeance—all the makings of a great novel.

So I write what I know.

Nowadays my challenge has changed. Writing has taken on a different meaning. I need to be selective in sharing what I know. What experiences do I know that could connect with readers? What emotions can I express on the page that would connect with a reader to pull from them their own emotions? Sorrow? Joy? Disappointment? Struggle with vengeance?

I still read novels by others so I can learn more about my craft. I go to writers conferences to sharpen my skills as well as participate in critique groups to stay connected with like-minded people.

But I always come back to what I know.

I challenge you to do the same. Attend this fall’s writers conference. Connect with fellow writers on Facebook and share your ideas. And write what you know. You’ll be a blessing to others when you do.

 

 

September Blogging Ideas

Did back-to-school shopping freeze your brain? Has the weather thrown you for a loop?

If you’re looking for topics to stir conversations, check out Edie Melson’s September’s Idea Starters. If you haven’t done so, follow her blog. She never runs short of informative as well as inspirational items for writers.

 

 

When the Pieces Start Falling Together

How many times have we questioned why sand has been kicked in our face on the Beach of Life? Circumstances doesn’t go as planned … we suffer an incredible loss … our words get twisted then used against us. We stomp our foot and scream to God, “This is not fair! Where are you, Father? Why don’t you make this right?”

But we hear nothing back—radio silence from our Heavenly Father. What do we do? We want to roll up our sleeves and fix things. We know exactly what we’d do to fix things. But Scriptures begin to come to mind: “Never will I leave you nor forsake you,” “For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways,” “In all your ways submit to God, and he will make your paths straight.”

This is when we  have a choice. We can choose to not pay attention to our circumstances and, instead, choose to trust God. When we do, we might do it a bit begrudgingly, but we trust, nonetheless.

Amazingly, after a time we start seeing the pieces come together. Weeks go by and out of the blue there’s an opportunity—a blessing—that was never anticipated. It could be a new job opportunity is offered to you. Or maybe someone suffers from incredible injustice and, because of the experiences you have just endured,  you have the chance to offer Godly wisdom to them.

When God taps us on the shoulder for service, it comes at a cost. Many times there is pain, loss, and injustice. But God’s presence never waivers, and  we always gain more than we are asked to give.

I hate that I am still surprised when I see God’s hand move in miraculous ways. But I love the fact that I never tire seeing of his Grace and Mercy.

Surviving the Unknown World

August 1983

The cool air and the long rays of morning sun greeted the three of us as we traveled the long driveway. It took everything in me not to start crying.

“Today’s a great day!” I said, with too much pep in my voice. I wanted to make sure I told him all he needed to know for this special day. “You’ll meet new people and it’ll be terrific!”

We continued to walk, hand in hand as we always had in the past. He stopped, looked up into my eye, and with a sober voice, “It is a great day, right, Mommy?”

Little Sis skipped along singing Great day, It’s gonna be a great day … She had no idea the somberness of this moment. But how could she? How could she know what it felt like to lose a baby into an Unknown World?

Soon the bus pulled up and stopped. My son climbed the big steps before him. I watched as he entered the bowels of the yellow-orange bus that had been sent to take him away. He found a seat by the window and settled in for the ride. The top of his head was all I could see as the bus wheezed. jerked a bit, and then drove away.

I cried all the way home. Little Sis and I filled our morning with a lot of nothing special, passing the time until time for Big Brother to return. When we saw the big yellow-orange carrier turn the corner we ran to greet him, smothering him with hugs and kisses. He walked differently on the way home–a bit taller, his shoulders back straight. He had faced the giant called Kindigar’n, and he had been victorious! I survived the first day of school.

August 1984

Once again, the three of us walked down the long driveway. As before, I did everything I could not to start crying. This time, Big Brother held Little Sis’s hand as we strolled along.

“Today’s a great day!” Big Brother told his sister. “I did this last year. You’ll be great.”

This time, Little Sis squared her shoulders when the yellow-orange bus pulled up. Without a look back, she marched up the steps just as Big Brother had prepared her to do. She trusted him. They would be fine. But what about me? Who would walk back to the house with me?

At the end of the day, the yellow-orange bus pulled to our stop. Big Brother and Little Sis came bounding down the steps. My arms ached just a bit for the babies who had grown up so quickly. I had survived my second first day of school.

August 1994

My baby … Youngest Boy … and I sat on the front steps of our new home and waited for the yellow-orange bus. Youngest Boy’s older siblings were already arguing about getting the best seats on the bus. But Youngest Boy and I stayed apart, getting a sense of what was in store for each of us.

“Today’s a great day,” I said softly, hoping my peaceful demeanor would give him the confidence.

“Really Mommy, a great day?”

“One of the greatest ever!” I hugged Youngest Boy close.

Too soon the yellow-orange bus stopped in front of the house and my three gifts from God rambled up the steps, Youngest Boy needing a bit of assistance. I wiped tears away as I watched the bus round the corner and drive out of sight. I sighed, went back into the house, and drank my coffee. I had survived my last first day of school.

Today

Driving to work this morning I watched from my car as mommies walked their young ones to the different bus stops along my route. I saw them wipe tears away as they did their best to ready their precious babies to meet their own Unknown World. I reflected my own firsts. Then it hit me: Today I am facing the first day in twenty-nine years when I didn’t have a child experiencing some kind of school. Elementary, middle, high school or college–they were all behind me.

For a fleeting moment I longed for just one more shopping trip to pick out the perfect backpack, the most awesome outfits, or the most confusing calculator. It doesn’t seem all that long ago that I watched that big yellow beast carry my sweet ones into the new season of their lives. I can still envision the top of Big Brother’s head through the bus window, the squared shoulders of Little Sis as she marched into her future, or the tenderness of Youngest Boy as he struggled with mastering the bus steps.

I think I’m going to text my three children and let them know that I’m very proud of them. They have met their Unknown World and survived … and I did, too.

There is a time for everything,

and a season for every activity under the heavens Ecclesiastics 3:1

Reposted from August 22, 2012. 

Memories of Long Ago

I remember spending hours collecting soda-pop bottles from alongside the road and returning them to the store for two cents apiece. It didn’t matter how long my friends and I were out. We’d be gone on our bikes for hours with one goal in mind: to stand in front of the general store counter and peer up to all the colors and wonders that were held in the clear glass jars.

We’d bring our bicycle baskets filled to the top with dirty bottles so the general store owner could reward us for our stash. We’d then used our newly found fortune to buy penny candy: Pixy Stix, BB Bats, Banana Kits Taffy, Root Beer Barrels, or Button Candy.

I’m happy I grew up when I did. I rode my bike with my friends from sun up until lunch, only to leave again and return for dinner. We’d catch lightning bugs in the evenings by the jar full, or chase grasshoppers through the fields during the day.

But what I remember most were the conversations. People cared about what others thought and listened to differing

opinions. I learned from watching adults around me that different didn’t mean bad, it just meant … different. I learned humility—that I wasn’t always the authority I thought I was. I learned that respect was freely given, and it was theirs to be lost. I learned to offer a neighbor a helping hand when it was needed, because it was always needed.

I watched Philippians 2:3 in action, “Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit. Rather, in humility value others above yourselves”.

I think people are still searching for what I experienced years ago. I think that’s why so many people follow social media and throw in their two cents on topics that interest them. People have things to say. At the same time, people want to be heard. Everyone has opinions that matter to them. My hope is that we take a step back and listen—really listen—to what someone is saying. Who knows, if we listen to one another we may find we’re not the authority we once thought we were.

Be Careful What You Wish For

People were also bringing babies to Jesus for him to place his hands on them. When the disciples saw this, they rebuked them. But Jesus called the children to him and said, “Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these  Truly I tell you, anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it.” Luke 18:15-17

I recently read a Facebook post that made me cringe. A woman was ranting about how she was tired of people being so self-absorbed, they actually brought their children with them when they visited her favorite Starbucks. “They have no consideration for others,” she went on. “All I want to do is enjoy my coffee in peace and quiet. Is that asking too much?” I leaned back and said to myself, “Been there, I get you sister,” until I realized how self-absorbed I was by thinking that way.

There’s nothing wrong with looking forward to appreciating a great cup of coffee in a stress-free atmosphere, but, dear friends, there are so many more important things in life.

Try sharing that “self-absorbed” opinion with someone who desperately wants to have a child but can’t. I’d wager they’d give anything to listen to that commotion. Offer your rant to a mother who deals with a special needs child 24/7 and the highlight of her week is stopping by Starbucks to grab a cup of coffee with a friend. This hour over a steaming cup of chai  is her lifeline. Or think of the older gentleman who sits alone all day, forgotten by society. He may never hear a joyful sound until an unassuming child interrupts his loneliness.

Nobody enjoys a cup o’ joe more than me. And I certainly relate to the appreciation of peace and quiet while I drink it. But, dear friend, please stop hating on rambunctious children. Maybe they have more to offer us than the caffeine we seek does.

This is When I Begin to Panic

Wasn’t it Spring just last week? How can it be that mothers are buying back-to-school clothes for their kids?

All those dreams of getting lots done over the summer—almost dashed if I don’t hurry.

What about you? Has the time pasted you by, too?

A Summer of Bingeing

I always get  excited when  I see the new posts from Lori Roeleveld. Once you read her work, you’ll understand why. This post is totally worthy of sharing to as many of my readers and I possibly can.

Thank you, Lori, for showing me what it looks like to love Jesus and all those around me.