Cheryl Colwell's Blog, page 2

What’s the PURPOSE of my life?

My wise editor returned my manuscript with the following paraphrased comments regarding my character, Eaven Alexander:

“Eaven often seems to serve the agendas of others rather than following through on her goals. Though she had some stated desires, she often responds to, or is motivated by, others’ decisions and needs, and she seems to achieve success or failure incidentally, instead of as a result of her own actions. Even her emotional responses seem filtered through the judgments and needs of others instead of clear expressions of her feelings and desires. It’s a problem since it keeps your character from truly living and breathing. Secondly, it weakens your scene structure as she meanders through the scene, accounting for time and moving across the stage, but not necessarily doing so with purpose along the path to a specific goal.”

Make you want to cry? I did. I wrote myself on the page and was forced to face the mirror. Eventually, I was grateful for this revelation and used it to rewrite Eaven’s character and begin the renovation of my life.

On this journey, I came across the question, What is God’s purpose for me? It’s found in Genesis 1:26. “And God said, ‘Let us make man in our image.’” That is still God’s quest for us. Every challenge, trial, and victory will be used to transform us.

What does that image look like? Pure love. God is love. Agape love, not just human emotion or caring. This road is not for wimps who are meandering through life. I Corinthians 13 lays out what agape love looks like. I’ve listed a few characteristics here:

Love is patient and long-suffering with the betrayals and failings of ourselves and others.

It is kind to
everyone without partiality.

It doesn’t
parade itself with an attitude of ‘look at me’ and is not puffed up with pride
or arrogance.

It isn’t rude,
even when confronted with rudeness.

It is not provoked into being less than love by the words or actions of others.

That’s Who our God is. That’s how He reacts to our rudeness, pride, and selfishness – with perfect agape love and acceptance. He already knows our failings, but He also has an immutable plan for His children.

Like my character, I need to know my purpose – to align with God’s goal to form me into His image. After that, my instructions are to trust and thank Him for the work He is doing through the challenges, failures, and triumphs, keeping in mind His promise that, “All things work together for my good.”

It takes practice to see my life this way, but through experience, I’m becoming more confident that, “He who began a good work in me will be faithful to complete it.” Even though our spirit is already perfected in Him, it takes a lifetime for our character to be transformed into pure love. A worthy Purpose.

Precisely Designed

When working with kids in our Awanas program at church, I was struck that their young hearts were already a target for the same cruel lies we adults carry. One lie that cuts deeply is the buried belief that we don’t matter. While challenging my own lies recently, I found that little devil alive and well and felt impressed to look up the meaning.

Matter: something that occupies space

That brought a measure of comfort. I occupy space, therefore, I matter. No one has the right to bump me out of my space, and it’s my duty to stand up and occupy that space. Handled? Not quite.

I sense that an elusive standard exists to which I must measure up. It’s a continuous question I ask internally. Do I matter here? Am I measuring up? But, measuring up to who? When I look around, there isn’t anyone I’d rather be, or as an author, no one’s books I wish I’d written. So what is this quest?

I’ve come to believe my spirit is searching to be like the One who is perfect; that my Father laid it in my heart to desire oneness and perfection which is only found in Him.

“In Him, we live and move and have our being.”

Have our being. Matter. When I’m in that place, I feel complete, at peace. Yet, even though I am one with Christ, I am also different than others, which nudges me to compare. That makes the second meaning of matter just as exciting to me:

Matter: a particular kind of substance.

One night in Awanas, I set a beautiful vase of water and a clay pot filled with old soil in front of the kids and asked which was more valuable. As expected, they chose the beautiful vase. But what would happen, I asked, if I put a living plant into that vase of water? It would drown and die. It needed the clay pot with its drainage hole and soil. Conversely, a bouquet of beautiful flowers would wilt within the hour if stuck into the pot of dirt.

We each hold a particular kind of space that was planned for us before the earth was created. We are each precisely designed for a precise purpose, one that matters.

I’d love to hear your story. If you’ve struggled with this issue, what tools or truths have you found that have helped you overcome the feeling that you don’t matter?

Awe-inspiring, enchanting, captivating – no one word can capture the essence of this area.

As often as possible, our travels take us to Joseph, Oregon at the base of the Wallawa Mountains, one of my favorite spots in the world. Joseph is a charming historical town filled with art and culture. Thanks to the bronze foundries that opened in 1982, you’ll find gorgeous bronzes on most of its downtown corners. Brick sidewalks and hanging flower baskets lead past fun restaurants, breweries, and fine art galleries.

Embers Brewhouse downtown Joseph with views of Wallawa Mountains

It’s quite a drive from southern Oregon to the northeast corner of the state, but even though it’s an out-of-the-way spot, it’s definitely been discovered. Crowds overflow during the Chief Joseph Days Rodeo in July; the Bronze, Blues, and Brews festival in August; and Alpenfest in September. A constant draw is the beautiful Wallowa Lake, where our family has enjoyed camping, swimming, and boating for years.

The most irresistible thing for me, however, is to drive through the rolling farms by myself and find a place to stop and gaze at the Wallowa mountains, dubbed the Oregon Alps. Each time, a powerful, creative force makes my heart swell with longing. It’s like nothing I’ve experienced anywhere else.

Awe-inspiring, enchanting, captivating – no one word can capture the essence of this area.

Have you visited Joseph? Is there a place that creates a similar sensation for you?  If you are a writer, is there someplace you count on for inspiration?

A flower for a season

On the advice of a friend, I eased into a hot bath with Epsom salts and a
few drops of lavender. Thinking it would be nice to look at something pretty
while soaking, I had set a bouquet of flowers next to the tub, unaware of the
precious message they would speak this morning.

Each flower carried its own beauty. One was the star, standing out from the
others. Some were grouped with friends, while one was hiding alone. Another was an oddball, and others drooped near the bottom. That’s where I am.

My mother just entered hospice. At times in her journey, she’s been that
glorious star, but always, she’s released a sweet fragrance. Drooping near the bottom is just for now. It is one flower, but it is needed to complete the
whole lovely bouquet.

I am comforted that even while these flowers fade, others are already
growing, in my life and my mother’s. Wherever you are today, I hope grace
imparts the strength to be a sweet fragrance for yourself and for those around you. 

If you like, choose a flower that represents your life in this moment and share your experience. Someone may need to hear it.

Pour yourself a cup of gratitude. You’ll feel better!

I love creating memes and this might be my all-time favorite. The message gently suggests that changing my state is just a choice away.

I’ll post a few more here occasionally because I like the message. If you’d like to collect some to share, go to my Facebook Page at http://facebook.com/acupofgratitude

Bigfork, Montana

While visiting our daughter in Kalispell, Montana, we ventured east and found this charming town that sits on the north shore of Flathead Lake. Full of galleries, shops, and great places to eat, it proved a delightful excursion. I’m especially fond of kitchen shops, so while John hung out at the ice cream shop, I found a perfect sized copper colander for our RV.

The town of Bigfork under the blue Montana skies

Situated where the Flathead River and Swan River flow into Flathead Lake, this idyllic place is surrounded by beauty. We found a great Italian restaurant that overlooked the river. They weren’t open for dinner yet but rustled up a delightful meal for us anyway. And brought a bowl of water for our dog, Sangi.

The Swan River flows through the town and into the Flathead Lake.

If you look closely, you can see a FOR SALE sign at the river’s edge. My imagination went on high alert as I tried to figure out what we could build there. My out-of-the-box ideas have become a running joke, prompting John to adopt the saying, “That’s an idea,” to preserve his sanity.

Words from the box

I was staying in my friend’s guest room, along with boxes from her mother’s estate that were waiting to be sorted, and trying to sort out my own problems. Usually, I make a decision, put it to bed, then move onto the next one. Except, some decisions need more thought, more time to percolate. Occasionally, I confuse this waiting process as self-doubt. Especially with difficult decisions. As I sat on the bed with just the table lamp on, praying, asking for guidance, and listening, my eyes focused on one small sentence in that whole wall of boxes. “DON’T RUSH THINGS.”

I’ve added a visual sunburst to the photo in place of the emotional effect it had. It may sound far-fetched, and I probably wouldn’t have given it another thought, except for the internal change I experienced: a genuine peace about giving this situation more time.

Oh, did you see that the ad was about turkeys? Another reminder of God’s humor. And care.

Everything can’t be a mystery

I spent three more spectacular days in Astoria, Oregon on a fact-finding mission for my Get Eaven suspense series. Street 14 Cafe not only provided a great cup of Stumptown coffee but also a variety of savory quiches for breakfast, two days in a row. For a couple of hours each day, I sat in comfort and finished some chapters while the details were fresh in my mind.

Outside the walls of windows, Astoria bustled. My eyes feasted on this town I have come to enjoy immensely. Like my character, Eaven Alexander, I’m saddened whenever I leave it. I bought this cup and drink from it most mornings to anchor myself within the story. I hope my novel will whet your appetite to visit this amazing city. If you do, let me know. And send some pics.

The Mysterious Past of Chico, California – It’s Not the Sky That’s Falling!

This interesting story was covered by the San Francisco Chronicle, and on March 12, 1922, the New York Times reported that smooth, warm rocks had been falling out of a cloudless sky over Chico, California since July 1921.

The first complaint was made on November 1921 to City Marshall, J.A. Peck, by J.W. Charge, who said someone was throwing stones at his warehouse every day. The stones fell with enough force to damage windows, wooden boards, and roof shingles. Investigators, Fire Chief C.E. Tovee and Traffic Officer J.J. Corbett, narrowly escaped personal injury when a large boulder struck a wall where they had been standing only moments earlier.

Police could not come up with an explanation for the long duration of the phenomenon or the limited geographic scope of the rock fall (only on or around the warehouse).

Well, these giants might be a bit of an exaggeration.

In addition to rocks falling from Chico’s skies, on Sept 2, 1878, the New York Times said the Chico Record had reported that a great number of small fishes fell from a cloudless sky, covering a store and several acres.

Falling fish or frogs or reptiles seem easier to explain than rocks, as they can be picked up by waterspouts from pools of water. The curious thing here is how the waterspouts manage to only pick up one species at a time out of the body of water. A Moses-type plague? Heavenly provision for the hungry? Hmmm.

Speaking of hungry (ugh), there have been several documented accounts of flesh and blood falling from the sky. These have been examined, but with no reasonable explanation. Well, reasonable to most of us. Some assert that Aliens are dumping their refuse to lighten their load before exiting our atmosphere. Hmmm, again.

Be sure to watch the One Step Beyond video where this story is featured along with another fun mystery.

“I had a lover’s quarrel with the world.”

My husband, a passionate bike rider, decided to ride from Astoria, Oregon to the Atlantic coast. The trip took over two months and gave him a wonderful adventure and great new friends.

I flew out and joined him at Niagara Falls for a couple of days. The bike group left and I rented a car to loosely follow them.

I say loosely because I am forever taken over by my curiosity. That is how I ended up at this cemetery in Bennington, Vermont.

And that is how I came upon the grave of the famous author, Robert Lee Frost.

It’s a beautiful gravestone and includes his other family members. I especially love the sentiment under his wife’s name, “Together wing to wing and oar to oar.”

Many people travel there on purpose. I consider my visit a happy accident.