Delicious... and Terrifying

Hello again!

Well I think I've finally decided that the bulk of the actual writing of the book is DONE. The next leg of this odyssey seems to be the preparation of the manuscript for editing. I will readily admit that I have resisted this part for many months now, though not exactly sure why. And in the end it doesn't actually matter 'why'. I just need to be about the business of doing the tasks and taking the steps that will keep (or get) things moving.

About a month ago, my dear soul-friend Margie suggested I come over once a week and read the numerous handwritten chapters aloud while she types. Something in me just leaped with joy when she offered this gift. She who knows too well the paralyzing effect that 'shifting gears' can have on me. I get going at a good clip once I get in a groove, but with the writing groove drawn to a close, I was at a loss. So I think Margie just mercifully said 'enough. Let's get this thing done'. So for the last 4 Thursday mornings, we have been getting this thing done. Each time I'm driving out to the farm where she lives with her family just south of Ottawa, I get this overwhelming urge to turn the car around and take off in the other direction. I don't. And that's beyond me. I just get my body there, doing my best to quiet my mind and trembling heart. I feel it now, as I write. To borrow a fantastic phrase, coined by Margie, it's deliciously terrifying! Delicious - in its unknowns, its possibilities, and the enormous energy and courage it calls forth on so many levels. And Terrifying - for all of the same reasons.

I went to a wonderful book launch yesterday for the new book, Remembering Mother Teresa, by local author (and friend) JoAnne Christie. It's a collection of 58 different peoples' accounts of having met or been somehow touched by Mother Teresa. It's a compelling book, and it brought me tears, smiles and blessings as I devoured it at home last night. So many different people, stories, circumstances, timeframes. But it seems they were left with that same flavour and impression that so many have spoken about: that Mother Teresa was frail and small in stature and at the same time full of life, energy and holy presence. Again and again, the writers told how they felt they had Mother's undivided attention. That her loving, gentle eyes somehow imparted a peace that passed understanding. That her knowing smile wordlessly communicated her great love for each person. And that having had even the briefest of encounters with her, each one felt that they had been forever changed. I can relate. The stirring inside is palpable as I recall my chats with Mother - now almost 13 years later. I often have this eerie yet peaceful feeling that she is here, now... looking over my shoulder as I write. May I do her justice! :) Of course, she would be the first one to defer to Christ. Don't look so much to me, she might say. It is not I who lives, but He who lives in me. I am, she once said, but a pencil in His Holy hand. So here I sit, day after day, praying to be a little keyboard, utterly controlled by the Master's Hands.

Peace. And Happy Advent!