We have come, at last, to the conclusion of the tale “How I Became R. A. Nelson”.
Last week’s post left you on a bit of a cliffhanger (sorry-not-sorry), with yours truly in the throes of that agony inimitable to “waiting”. Hours after writing that poem, “The Dark Before Dawn”, I had a turning-point conversation with my husband that went something like this:
Him: What if we just . . . went for it? Found a place, packed up, and moved – no job, no connections? How would you feel about that?
Me: When do we leave?
Three months later, we were settled in our New England condo, watching the snow fall and trying to comprehend that the long-awaited dream was now a reality.
This was not, of course, a mountain vacation. The best dreams require a great deal of work, and a crucial component of achieving this dream was our decision to make “R. A. Nelson” our family business. My husband chose to devote his full-time professional energy into establishing and growing that business, and he threw himself into website design, marketing theory, and a whole bunch of technologically complex activities involving HTML and SEO and CCS and other such concepts that I spent the first thirty-two years of my life blissfully ignoring.
Our strategy was simple: I would be the author, and he would be the manager. I’d write the books; he’d write the code (the computer code, that is).
And, that is where you find us, dear Reader. I am still teaching part-time and working steadily away at my first poetry collection and my first post-Gatekeeper novel; my husband is working remotely part-time and maintaining the business end of things; the doggie boy is, as usual, slaying us daily with his winsome charm.
How did I become R. A. Nelson?
I – and my husband – gave up our full-time jobs and all their accompanying security, and chose to risk everything on the dream of building something new.
If you are reading this, friend, that means you are a part of that adventure. You are on our team and a crucial part of what is going to keep turning the dream into a deeper and truer reality.
We thank you, from the bottom of our hearts.
We still have a long way to go, of course. To quote Gatekeeper III, “‘Every beginning needs an ending to go before it and clear the way – open the gate, so to speak.’” (If you haven’t yet met Edmund Mitchell Truman, go download Gatekeeper I: The Finding posthaste. It’s free, and no life should be Eddie-less. You’re welcome.)
The ending to this story was really just a beginning in disguise – a rather flimsy disguise, it turns out, as a frozen pipes debacle in our New England condo sent us fleeing to the home of kindly relatives less than a month after moving. Thus, we are back to waiting, wondering when the next page will turn and trying to live out this new chapter faithfully, despite the setting’s obstinate refusal to reveal itself.
How strangely fitting it is that Lent began this week.
Lent is the forty-day period between Ash Wednesday and Easter. Just as Advent prepares the heart for Christmas, Lent is meant to be a time of repentance, reflection, and reconstruction, readying ourselves to celebrate the resurrection of Christ.
We moved into our condo just as Advent was beginning, and came through that gate amidst snow and contemplative gratitude into the joy of Christmas. Now, as the church worldwide enters another season of waiting, we find ourselves on yet another threshold. The way ahead is still shrouded in mystery, but we trust that the beginning is near, and that we will come through the silence and the fasting and the grief into a new day of Life and song.
See you there, friends.
P.S. I haven’t pursued the writing of poetry in Lent as devotedly as I have during Advent, but perhaps that is coming. Last year, however, I was sitting at the window during the Lenten season, and an unexpected snowfall graced our North Carolina home. The accompanying time of reflection led to this poem, which seemed – somehow – to be about Lent. In any case, it points towards Easter, which is what Lent is designed to do. (Plus, now that I’m a northerner, snow is an ever-present reality at this time of year, and it inspires lots of poetry. Stay tuned to this channel.)
A Lenten Snowfall
Hold fast to the Word
The Word is the priest
While rivers of wonder
Forever released
Drown you in life
Most costly cascade
Dive into the dying
With doubt-debts unpaid
The longer you linger
The further you’ll grow
Rise, wrapped in the quiet
Of fresh-fallen snow
Your gift with words continues to amaze and bless me. We need more silence, more waiting than we are able to imagine. Thank you for reminding me.
Thank YOU for providing such a luminous example for me, my whole life, of pure pursuit of the Word.
Inspiring! I love that I can anticipate more of your story as you go through this journey.
I am glad to be able to share it with you!
What a whirlwind adventure to find yourselves on! I greatly anticipate the next snapshot into this journey as you strive to fulfill a dream and the calling on your lives!
Perhaps I am just slow – did you have to move out of your condo for good?
As for the writing, uplifting, my dear – miss you in NC
WONDERFUL–OUR RUTH—I BOUGHT ALL THREE BOOKS FOR MY SISTER IN LOVE FOR CHRISTMAS–SHE JUST STARTED THE #1 TODAY–BLESSINGS UPON YOU–AND YOUR HUSBAND–MAY PEACE REST WITH ALL THAT WALK INTO YOUR HOME—LOVE AND PRAYER—