Prepare to
choose courage over cowardice when the remembering and writing hurt.
Prepare to
be surprised and delighted when you peel off layers surrounding your past
experiences.
Prepare to
find God’s fingerprints all over everything.
Prepare to
discover links, insights, and joys.
Prepare to
unravel your life’s mysteries (or at least some of them).
Prepare to
make better sense of your life.
Prepare to
feel good about it.
Your
stories are everywhere, all around you, just waiting for you to put them in
writing.
Look
at your cell phone contact list, your address book, email inbox, friends on
Facebook and other social media. What stories can you write about the fun you
had with them? About the adventures? What skills did those people teach you?
Go
deeper: What did you learn alongside them about failure, hard work, success,
romance, illness, teamwork? What lessons did they teach you?
Think
back: Who taught you about honesty, integrity, perseverance, kindness,
compassion, generosity, faith in God? How, specifically, did those individuals
shape you and encourage you to be the person you are today?
Stories
are everywhere—not just stories. God-and-you stories.
Look around your office or your house. What
have you tucked into a special drawer or a safe deposit box?
If
a tornado siren sounded, or if a smoke alarm went off, what would you grab and
take to a safe place?
If
those items could talk, what stories would they tell?
I
think about that question a lot.
Someday
I want to write stories based on my old blue American Tourister carry-on bag. It traveled with me for thirty years across three continents: from
this planet’s most primitive places to the world’s most sophisticated cities. What
stories it could tell!
What
stories would my husband’s grandmother’s aluminum colander tell? And her
ironing board? I don’t know how many years Grandma Jennings used them, but I’ve
used them for more than fifty years! Five generations of our family (so far)
have used those items. Imagine what stories they could tell—stories of God’s goodness
to our family, generation after generation.
Why have you thrown out some possessions
but kept others for many years?
Why could you never throw them out or give them away?
Because they represent something important to you.
What is that something?
Look
around and ask yourself:
“If
this dining room table could talk, what stories would it tell?”
“If
my old Bible could talk, what stories would it tell?”
“If
these boots could talk, what stories would they tell?”
What
about a photo? A book? Washing machine? Piece of art? Jewelry? Woodworking
tools? Coffee mug? Mechanical tools? Art supplies? A vase? A favorite old
devotional book?
Many items could tell stories—stories significant to you and your family.
Glenda Bonin suggests we interview key people—and even ourselves.
“Don’t be timid about interviewing yourself and others,” Glenda writes. “A good interviewer asks questions and waits for answers. . . . Listen deeply, allowing as much time as needed for quiet moments of thought. Do not rush in with a new question until you are satisfied that the question has been fully explored. . . . These moments are often where the best family stories can be found. . . .”
I
like Glenda’s suggestion: Interview others, yes, but also interview yourself,
and “listen deeply, allowing as much time as needed. . . .”
You
might even schedule a time to think, to ponder an item’s importance. Or maybe you
could contemplate while you drive to work or mow the lawn or walk the dog.
What
questions do you need to ask?
What
questions do you need to ask yourself?
Peel back layers.
Wait for answers. Listen for them.
When answers surface, write your stories—
not just stories. Write God-and-you
stories.
Remember,
while you’ve been using and enjoying those items, God has always been with you,
working in you, working on your behalf.
You don’t need to experience news-making miracles
to witness God at work. He is in your everyday comings and goings.
As
Oswald Chambers says,
“We
look for visions from heaven
and
for earth-shaking events
to
see God’s power. . . .
Yet
we never realize that
all
the time God is at work
in
our everyday events
and
in the people around us.”
Write
your stories!
Life
has been busy, busy, busy for the past few weeks, and I suspect you haven’t had
time to write your stories.
But
that’s not a problem.
Why
not?
Because
your brain and heart
are
working even when you don’t have time
to
sit down and get serious about
working
on your memoir.
Christmas
is a time of remembering. So many memories pop into our heads at this time of
the year. If your memoir will include a vignette about Christmas, you’ll like today’s
post.
What
memories came to mind when you put decorations on your Christmas tree? Do you
have ornaments that used to be your grandmother’s? Decorations you made as a
child? Or that your kids made when they were little?
What
memories came to mind when you sang Christmas songs at church, or when you
watched your favorite old Christmas movie, baked a recipe from your childhood, or watched kids or grandkids perform in a Christmas pageant?
When
you have a spare moment,
jot
down a few key words and images
that
will help you remember
those
details later.
As George W. Carver said, "Do what you can, with what you have, and do it now."
For
now, don’t worry about
composing
a well-written vignette
for
your memoir.
A
few hurried notes to yourself
will
be a big help later
when
you compose
your
detailed, polished stories.
Happy New Year!
Often we memoirists think we should focus on the big incident, the momentous scene, the shocking episode—and they are important—but look for the treasures, perhaps hidden right now—within the everyday events and individuals in your past. They could hold more importance than you realize.
Oswald Chambers said, "We look for visions from heaven and for earth-shaking events to see God's power. Yet we never realize that all the time God is at work in our everyday events and in the people around us."
In
writing your memoir, be deliberate: Make time to relive your experiences. Reflect. Explore
and examine the ways God was at work in your everyday activities and the people
who surrounded you.
What
was He doing?
What
was He working out?
How
did those events and people transform your life’s direction?
How
did they change the end of your story?
And
there you have it, your Tuesday Tidbit.
Happy
writing!
By
now you recognize how important remembering is when writing a memoir.
Reflecting—examining
the past, discovering deeper significance than you recognized at the time.
Remembering
and analyzing and piecing together can bring deep healing—and might even change
the direction of our lives.
Reflecting
on what God has done for us and through us can be life-changing.
Sometimes,
however, our introspection
leads
to painful memories, regrets, shame.
Our
hearts become troubled.
You
know what a troubled heart feels like.
So
do I.
Sometimes
it hurts for a long, long time.
And yet, Jesus said, “Don't let your hearts be troubled” (John 14:1).
Lloyd Ogilvie offers us this consolation and hope: “We have a place to go with our troubled hearts—the heart of God.
God’s heart is “a place of reconciliation, forgiveness, and acceptance. . . . We were created to abide in His heart of love. . . . An intimate communion awaits us where we can unburden all our troubles and receive strength.” (Lloyd Ogilvie, Silent Strength for My Life)
Take
in Henri Nouwen’s words: “We are people with souls, sparks of the divine. To
acknowledge the truth about ourselves is to claim the sacredness of our being,
without fully understanding it.” Nouwen says we must “trust that our souls are
embraced by a loving God.” (Bread for the Journey)
“Solitude,
silence, and prayer . . .
offer
solutions
for
the complexity of our lives . . .
because
they bring us in touch with
our
sacred center, where God dwells. . . .
It
is the place of adoration, thanksgiving, and praise.”
May
God bring healing to our painful memories
and
our troubled hearts,
and
may we rejoice in Him
as
we dwell in that lovely place in His heart.
People will read your memoir for its takeaways.
What’s
a takeaway?
It’s
a gem you unearthed during all your remembering and reflecting that’s so
important in writing a memoir. (Be sure to read our earlier post, “Dig out the gems, in pieces if you must.”)
In
examining what you unearthed, and in re-evaluating it, you gained clarity and wisdom,
and that helped make sense of your life—which you offer to your readers.
Takeaways
are what readers “take away” from your memoir. A takeaway is a meaningful
sentence or two that speaks to something deep inside the reader.
He
recognizes himself in your story. When he stumbles upon your takeaway, he will
pause to think, to re-read the words, slowly. He might underline the passage.
Or maybe highlight it. Or write notes in the margin. Your memoir’s takeaway
offers him lessons he will carry with them after he’s read the last page and
closed the back cover.
How
do you, the writer,
discover
a takeaway in your life’s story?
Think
back. At some point,
you
had an A-ha moment, and a light came on.
Puzzle
pieces began falling into place.
You
gained clarity.
You
discovered a solution.
It
was a turning point.
You
were not the same person after that.
That’s
good, that’s exciting.
Such
discoveries can be defining moments for you,
life-changers—but
go beyond that.
Share
the benefits of that experience with your readers
by
crafting a takeaway.
Offer
them their own A-ha moment.
Offer
them something of value.
In
other words, in a concise way give words to the principle you learned—think of
the takeaway as a precept, a saying, a guideline, an adage—something readers
can live by, a principle that can be life-changing for them, too.
Use
your takeaway to offer readers hope,
or
wisdom,
or
courage,
or
laughter,
or
a solution,
or
a new way of living or loving.
Your
takeaways, then, communicate to readers: “I know this is true because I have
experienced it, I have lived it. It changed my life. Perhaps it will change
your life, too.”
Come
back next week when we’ll continue working on takeaways.
There
you have it, your Tuesday Tidbit.
Chuck Swindoll writes about “people who go through life with their eyes closed. They
look but don’t really ‘see’ . . . they observe the surface but omit the
underneath . . . they focus on images but not issues . . . vision is present
but perception is absent. . . .
“Remove
insight,” Chuck continues, “and you suddenly reduce life to existence with
frequent flashes of boredom and indifference. . . . Please understand, I do not
mean to be critical of those who cannot go deeper . . . but of those who can
but will not.”
Chuck
concludes: “Open your eyes! Think! Apply! Dig! Listen!” (Charles R. Swindoll, Growing Strong in the Seasons of Life)
Chuck’s
message is perfect for those who write memoirs.
Many
a time you’ve heard me emphasize the importance of introspection and reflection
when it comes to writing a memoir. Of digging deeply.
But
it’s hard work to make time for all that contemplating and assessing.
And
all too often we’re in a hurry to get our stories in print.
However,
I urge you to do what Chuck says: “Open your eyes! Think! Apply! Dig! Listen!” so
that you can write multi-layered stories based on not only what happened, but what
it all means—what you learned and where it all led.
What
do you recognize now that you overlooked in the past?
What
do you know now that you didn’t know before?
And
this is so important: What was God doing?
What
new places did God take you—
emotionally,
physically, mentally, spiritually?
In
hindsight, what new opportunities did He give you?
What
lessons did He teach you?
How
is your relationship with Him different now?
Sit
quietly with your story and imagine God sitting there beside you. He’s eager to
help you dissect your past and make sense of it.
Listen
for what He might tell you. Watch for what He might show you.
Often
He surprises us with what He helps us piece together. What new person are you now
as a result of your past experiences and your examination of them?
If
you want to uncover the profound parts of your story,
you
need to invest in reflection and introspection.
Go
deep. Refuse to stay in the shallow end.
“Oftentimes
insight into what all has transpired comes later and in layers,” writes Beth Moore. “One of the many gifts of aging in a walk with God is that you can look
over your shoulder and see that some pieces of the puzzle really did end up
fitting. Yep,” she says, “this makes sense. Surely didn’t at the time.”
As
a memoirist, then, your job is to recollect, reminisce, identify, contemplate,
review. And snap puzzle pieces together.
and we memoirists would do well to ask ourselves:
“Am I willing to sit in silence—
highly uncomfortable for those of us who are new to it—
in order to hear the voice of God?”
Sandra Clifton was desperately in need. In her discouragement, she cried out to God, “Are You there?”
Sandra
seemed to hear God answer, “Count your blessings—backward!”
Think
about that! Count your blessings—backward!
And
so she did—Sandra began to examine her past, to remember what God had done.
In
doing so, she discovered God had been guiding and providing for her even though
she hadn’t detected it.
“I
realized what God wanted me to understand: that He had been at work all along,
setting up circumstances to bring His will to pass in my life. Recalling
previous blessings and answered prayers reminded me of this truth. It is what
David meant by ‘encouraging himself in the Lord.’
Sandra continues, “Tracing our blessings backward shows us the ‘pattern’ of God’s
involvement in our lives. It allows us to see that the very obstacles we face
today could be the things that set us up for His blessings tomorrow.”
“Today’s
blessings are a result of the Father’s masterful orchestration of people and
events,” she points out.
Sandra’s message is a glorious one,
and it’s also what writing a spiritual memoir is all
about.
We
memoirists devote ourselves to remembering what God has done in the past. “‘Remember’
is the most frequent command in the Old Testament,” writes Mike Metzger.
We
examine what happened in the past, we ponder, we take a broader, wider, deeper,
higher look.
We
search for God’s fingerprints.
We
look for patterns in our lives.
We
reflect in a deliberate way.
We
connect the dots.
We trace our blessings backward.
What a superb, blessed experience that can be!
What do you need to remember today?
Think
back on your conversations with God—and write about them.
Remember
how He confirmed His direction for your life—and write about it.
Remember
what you committed to Him, remember the Bible verses that inspired you to make
that commitment—and write about all that.
Remember
your joy in setting out—and write about it.
Remember
all the ways God walked hand in hand with you when you stumbled through rough
spots, through dread-filled times, through your anguish—and write about it.
Remember
raising your hands in surrender to God, trusting Him for His best outcome for your
life—and write about it.
Remember
the ways He brought you to a new and good place—and write about all of that.
And
take joy in your writing!
Writing your memoir can surprise you by bringing past
events into a new light. As you make time to remember and ponder, new insights into
old experiences will surface. Puzzle pieces will fall into place.
Frederick Buechner explains what he discovered when
he penned his personal stories in The Sacred Journey and Now and Then.
"They gave me more of a sense than I had ever had before of how as far back as I could remember things had been stirring in my life that I was all but totally unaware of at the time.
"If anybody had predicted when I was an undergraduate at Princeton that I was going to be ordained as a minister ten years after graduation, I think I would have been flabbergasted.
"Yet as I wrote . . . I found myself remembering small events as far back as early childhood which were even then leading me in something like a direction but so subtly and almost imperceptibly that it wasn't until decades had passed that I saw them for what they were. . . .
"The events were often so small that I was surprised to remember them, yet they turned out to have been road markers on a journey I didn't even know I was taking.
"The people involved in them were often people I had never thought of as having played particularly significant roles in my life yet looking back at them I saw that, for me, they had been life-givers, saints." (Frederick Buechner, Originally published in Telling Secrets)
God longs for us to remember what He has done
(Psalm 105:5), but we so easily forget!
Memories are vital components of memoirs, so how
can we retrieve the faded ones?
If you kept a journal in the past, you have a
treasure. It will be packed with events and details and personal insights that you
might have forgotten over the years.
Old letters—that you wrote or received—can also
help remember significant events and people.
Look through your Bible, devotionals, or Bible
study materials. If you’re like me, you’ve jotted memories and dates in the
margins.
Some people print and save special emails they’ve
sent or received.
Here’s another idea to help you retrieve your
memories of a key place: Sketch a floor plan and/or the neighborhood. Maybe you’re
writing about your childhood home or about Boy Scout camp. Or maybe you’re
writing about an office building in a bustling city. Sketching that place will
help remember details.
While you draw, memories will bubble up and
percolate.
Don’t believe me? Give it a try! As you sketch, jot
down notes about who was with you and what significant events took place there.
But that’s just the beginning!
Memoirists go beyond remembering the past. Memoirists
search for significance. Relevance.
Pondering, unraveling, piecing together, reflecting—all
are necessary ingredients in memoirs. Tell readers what you now see, in
retrospect. Look for deeper meanings and connections, as Frederick
Buechner did, above.
Looking back, what did you learn about yourself?
What patterns did you discover that you hadn’t
noticed before?
How did the place and people shape your life? And prepare
you for your future?
What was God doing? What did you learn about Him? Like
Frederick Buechner, did you discover God’s purpose for your life?
When you pull your memories out of hibernation,
give yourself plenty of time to examine them and answer the above questions.
Look for relevance you might have missed in the
past.
Search for profound lessons you learned.
Notice defining moments and turning points.
Make time to discover insights.
Identify healing and blessings that were there all
along.
Uncover your richer, higher, deeper, wider story.
And then share it with others.
When
we start writing, we have no idea where our memories and ponderings will take
us.
The
process of crafting a memoir changes the way we hear.
It
opens our eyes.
It
helps us discover a higher, deeper, broader story.
And
the process of writing changes our hearts.
“The
written word
preserves
what otherwise might be lost
among
the impressions that inundate our lives.
Thoughts,
insights, and perceptions
constantly
threaten to leave us
before
we have the opportunity
to
grasp their meaning.
Writing
can keep technology-driven, fast-paced,
quick-fix,
ambiguity-intolerant modern life
from
overpowering us—
and
give us something palpable upon which to reflect.
Reflection
slows matters down.
It
analyzes what was previously unexamined,
and
opens doors to different interpretations
of
what was there all along.
Writing,
by encouraging reflection,
intensifies
life.”
(Editors
Ben Jacobs and Helena Hjalmarsson,
Think
back to a time when the unexpected happened, something scary or challenging or disappointing.
Or maybe it was downright tragic—heartbreaking, life-changing.
One
time—only one time, I’m sad to say—when something devastating happened, almost
immediately Romans 8:28 came to mind: “And we know that all that happens to us
is working for our good if we love God and are fitting into His plans” (The Living
Bible).
I
told myself that ultimately I’d recognize the good God could bring from the tragedy.
I told myself to watch God work. I couldn’t imagine what those blessings might
be—those lessons, insights, and opportunities to mature, gain wisdom, and grow
in faith—so I waited and watched. And sure enough, He did bring beauty from
ashes.
I
wish that every time hardship blindsided me, I’d have watched for the goodness He
worked, but I admit I rarely have.
Maybe
you’ve had the same experience.
Not
all is lost at such times, though, if we think back and search for those
good things God brought. They’re just waiting for us to recognize them.
But
too often I’ve forgotten to go back and look for the gems He unearthed from my
dirt. I feel bad about that.
Mike
Metzger’s quote has come to mind frequently in the years since I ran across it:
“Many
churches have forgotten the premium
that
the historic Judeo-Christian tradition placed on
remembrance…and
recalling the right things.
The
‘great sin’ of the Old Testament was forgetfulness
(at
least it is the most recurrent offense).
‘Remember’
is the most frequent command
in
the Old Testament.”
(Clapham
Memo, January 19, 2007,
“Back
and Forth,” by Mike Metzger; emphasis mine)
Because
of Mike’s quote, in recent years I’ve made an effort to remember what God has
done for me and my family. Doing so requires me to make time to search my
memories.
By definition, writing a memoir requires us to go back, to uncover—to excavate,
unearth, dig, till the soil and sift through it—looking for diamonds and
emeralds.
In
the process, we might need to stand to the side and take a different look: We
need to do a “Doggie Head Tilt,” another Mike Metzger quote. He says, “If your
head never tilts, your mind never changes.”
So,
we tilt our heads and
look
at that difficulty from another angle.
We
rethink what happened, we reevaluate,
and
maybe arrive at a different conclusion
than
we had come to before.
In
Psalm 86:17, David prays, “Give me a sign of your goodness.”
That’s
what we memoirists are looking for:
Signs
of God’s goodness.
Souvenirs,
if you will, for us to keep and cherish.
Symbols,
proofs of His goodness.
Evidence.
Confirmations.
When
God comforts us with them, they become gems
for us to share with others.
So
we find those treasures, those signs of goodness, and we piece them together,
like stringing jewels to make a necklace. While we do so, we examine them, we
ponder and reflect on them.
We
ask ourselves:
Yes,
indeed, when we start composing a memoir, we have no idea where our memories
and ponderings and writings will take us.
The
process of writing opens our eyes and changes our hearts. It helps us discover a
higher, deeper, broader story.
Our
job as memoirists
is
to set aside time, as long as it takes,
to
follow the breadcrumb trail
God
has left for us to help us find our way.
And
then we share our findings with others
who
need help navigating their way.
In
that way,
penning
a memoir can be a sacred journey,
even
an act of worship.
Discover
the blessings God has handed you
in
the midst of your hard times,
and
then write your memoir,
knowing
others need the hope
and
wisdom and blessings you have to offer.
