. . . or the kind that touches the heart.
When you write a novel, you want feedback. If you’re a musician and you write or sing a song, you want approval. While the motives for creating differ from one “artist” to the next, the objective is to somehow connect and make an impression. Praise. C’mon. Let’s be honest. We want to be praised for the work we’ve done. Affirmation--we need it.
If our heart is right, we need to know we have pleased the Lord first of all, having made our creation an offering to Him as its primary role. He gives the creative gifts, we create to honor Him, and He accepts it with pleasure, and we return the praise to Him because it’s an amazing feeling to accomplish a Spirit-endowed project which He inspired and we completed in obedience to Him.
When my husband reads a novel, he devours it. Stays up too late for too many nights when and if he can still hold his eyes open after getting home from work. That’s why he spaces them apart. Otherwise he’d never get enough rest. He enjoys Robert Liparulo, Ollie North, Tim Downs, John Robinson—in other words: novels that guys typically enjoy. Thrillers, mysteries, military stories. One exception to his reading diet came when he agreed to read Francine Rivers’ Redeeming Love and declared it was a profound story.
Most readers consider a good book to be one you don’t want to put down because it keeps you engaged in the characters and story to the point where you just keep reading in spite of needing to go grocery shopping, fix dinner, or go to sleep. When someone tells you they couldn’t put the book down, that’s the best thing that can be said.
So . . . when my husband began The Famous One, he didn’t say too much. I noticed he didn’t bring his copy home but would leave it in his semi. I began to worry. He doesn’t like it. Oh well . . . but really my heart was broken. I knew he’d be a trooper and finish it, but I figured it was so boring for him that he just left it in his truck as his last alternative when he had nothing else to read.
Then he started telling me things about my writing like how I really understand people—what hurts them, how they feel inside. Stuff like that. I know there must have been some parts which were difficult for him to read because there were a few similarities to his young life in the life of the protagonist.
Now you might wonder why a couple who will have been married for 30 years in September can’t (don’t, won’t) speak freely about something as important as the novel written by the wife, but you have to understand the intensity involved in writing something and publishing it while your husband watches you do this for years, prays for you, desires your efforts to be rewarded, and even admires your tenacity when seemingly nothing is happening. Then you place this second effort in his hands, and he experiences this stunning pressure to read and approve your work. It’s serious. It’s important.
I remain quiet and try not to talk too much when he brings up a character or an event which he’s just read. Finally he tells me why he hasn’t finished it. He doesn’t want it to end! High praise. Hallelujah. Next to God, the one who matters most doesn’t want the story to be over, and that’s why he’s taking his time.
Thank you, Lord.
Father, you know what I need the most. Thank you for providing those very special things in my life. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.
*Please remember Kristy Dykes and her family at this time.*