Book Review - Coming Day

Coming Day - by Rachel Starr Thomson

The Final Battle

Treachery and division are tearing apart the Seventh World.  Evil factions right and left are seeking to capture the Gifted and steal their powers, wipe out those dear to them, and destroy all freedom and hope and mention of the long-absent King.  

The evil Morning Star is coming, bringing all the hordes of Blackness with him. 

The last straggling bands of Gypsies and the few brave farmer rebels of Pravik prepare for the final battle. But only the King can save them.  So Virginia the blind seer sets out on a fool's errand to find him.

What follows is a race to find the King and unite the Gifted to usher in his coming.  And that coming is something they never could have expected.  

"...all ends here are only beginnings."

Last night I stayed up till about 4 a.m. to finish reading Coming Day.  Sobbing.  Laughing.  Closing the book, turning out the light, and seeing from my pillow the clouds sail past black branches and a lone bright planet in the sky.  

Crying with joy in the dark.  

It was so good, I hardly dare write about it, for fear I'll get it wrong.  Yet I must - for myself, for Rachel, for my blog readers, for anyone else who might enjoy this epic tale of good against evil. 

As far as the plot goes, I confess it went by in a bit of a blur.  Captures followed by wild escapes, battles, wounds,  friends dying.  Walking in darkness to find a fabled King, when instinct says to run and help imperiled friends.  Seeing the world ending... and then beginning afresh.  

I don't think I've been this spiritually encouraged by a book in a long time.  I felt that I turned a corner in the last few chapters, and found that the story which began in a strange land, a land vaguely similar to my own but the stuff of legend, had ended up all the way in my own room at 4 p.m.

It was not a startling jolt from a world of wonder back into my own dull life.  Rather, it was like waking from a glorious dream to find that the best parts have been true all along.  The King tapped me on the shoulder, and his eyes are laughing still.

I closed the book with a thrilling, aching joy.  And the prayer of Rehtse, "both prophecy and petition," echoes through me:

Your kingdom come, we pray.

Come soon.

~

Book 1 - Worlds Unseen  | Book 2 - Burning Light

Authentic Relating

"Authentic Relating" is something I've been trying to practice lately.  It means being willing to share the truth about what we think and feel with others, to show them our real selves, and to be willing to hear them without jumping to conclusions.  It means not using manipulation, or trying to find out what they want to hear.  When it's working well, it's two people interacting - with each other, not with pretend versions of themselves.

Let me tell you, it's tough!  But after all the pain and tears, I think it will be worth it, because truth and love always are.

"Authenticity is the courage to love 

with a rigorous inside-out consistency."

Authentic Phony, from Boundless  

"Truth is the lifeblood of relationships."

Glaen, by Fred Lybrand

Beware Talking Coffee Containers

I'm already enjoying my new shiny NaNoWriMo travel mug. It's a lovely satiny brown, with a cheery blue NaNoWriMo logo on the side and the word "AUTHOR" beneath proudly proclaiming my fondness and ability of madly writing a novel in a month.

But last night as I rubbed its smooth metallic interior, and listened to the pleasant swooshing sound made by thwopping the lid on and off, I practically heard it talk. It was sneakily suggesting it could be My Precious, and it would make me very happy, and no one else must touch my shiny new present, oh no they must not...

Rather creepy, let me tell you, to almost hear inanimate objects say things like that.

I think letting other people use it might be a good way to combat its scheme to possess me. Here's another way - I can tell on it (er, really on myself) to God:

Lord, loosen in me the hold of visible things;
Help me to walk by faith and not by sight;
I would, through thickest veils and coverings,
See into the chambers of the living light.
Lord, in the land of things that swell and seem,
Help me to walk by the other light supreme,
Which shows thy facts behind man's vaguely hinting dream.

~George MacDonald, Diary of an Old Soul ~

I have a feeling things are talking to me more often than I realize, and too often, I am obeying their commands like a witless slave.

But though we can't see beyond the Veil yet, we can choose to trust God that there just may be far superior coffee containers there. And perhaps (but this is too wild!), just perhaps our attention will be so captured by such amazing and delightful Beings (One in particular), that we won't be thinking of coffee at all.

So how can I use my travel mug for God's glory? How can I be a faithful steward of this temporary thing that is either my tool... or my master? These are questions I ask myself, when at the back of my mind I know the answer:

"Stop writing this weird blog post, Rael, and get after the work set before you today, before the coffee is old and molding in that nice new mug of yours!"

"Do not lay up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy and where thieves break in and steal; but lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust destroys and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also." ~Matthew 6:19-21~

Of Jeeps and Joy

Has the Lord ever used something as silly as a finicky car to bring joy your day?

Today as I was out running errands, the Jeep decided to die quite suddenly. Thankfully I was stopped at a red light, but I'm afraid I panicked. One of my first thought was of the people in the pick-up behind me, but the gentleman held up a hand of patience, as if he knew I was stressed out and trying to restart my vehicle.

I tried turning the key. Nothing. Again I tried. After what seemed like long slow minutes (really just a few seconds) I thought to put it in park, then tried again. With a grunting, reluctant chug, the engine started! I waved a thanks to the guy behind me as I cautiously started forward.

"Thank you, Lord!" I felt tearful gratitude and a wave of relief wash over me. I finished my last few errands and drove home, all the while acutely aware that the Jeep might decide it never got enough appreciation, and would try the dying act again.

But God has rescued me in car troubles before, and He probably will again. Of course I know every one of them had a mechanical explanation for why things went wrong or right. But that doesn't make the Lord any less involved in my rescue.

Today I was surprised to find that, as horrible as car troubles are (especially to a panic-prone, over-sensitive, needing-to-control person as me), I am actually so greatful when they do happen. Because the remind me I'm in God's hands - and what could bring more joy than realizing that!?!

We're all like cars, actually. From the outside we might look beat up, or brand new, but only He knows and controls how long we will last. I could die any day. I have no garuntee or promise that I will take another breath, so in the meantime, every one I take is a precious gift. If only I would remember that all the time! That's the sort of adventure every one of us lives, every day, though we (or at least I) rarely have eyes to see.

In Prince Caspian (book, not film), Trumpkin the Dwarf has been doubting the existence and power of the great Lion, Aslan, all his life. He is terrified to meet the huge Lion at last, and even more so when Aslan gives him something quite different from a dry lecture.

“And now!” said Aslan in a much louder voice with just a hint of roar in it, while his tail lashed his flanks. “And now, where is this little Dwarf, this famous swordsman and archer, who doesn't believe in lions? Come here, son of Earth, come HERE!” - and the last word was no longer the hint of a roar but almost the real thing.

“Wraiths and wreckage!” gasped Trumpkin in the ghost of a voice. The children, who knew Aslan well enough to see that he liked the Dwarf very much, were not disturbed; but it was quite another thing for Trumpkin, who had never seen a lion before, let alone this Lion. He did the only sensible thing he could have done; that is, instead of bolting, he tottered towards Aslan.

Aslan pounced. Have you ever seen a very young kitten being carried in the mother cat's mouth? It was like that. The Dwarf, hunched up in a little, miserable ball, hung from Aslan's mouth. The Lion gave him one shake and all his armour rattled like a tinker's pack and then - heypresto - the Dwarf flew up in the air. He was as safe as if he had been in bed, though he did not feel so. As he came down the huge velvety paws caught him as gently as a mother's arms and set him (right way up, too) on the ground.

“Son of Earth, shall we be friends?” asked Aslan.

~Prince Caspian, by C. S. Lewis~

I love it! :-) Sometimes I feel like that when less-than-desirable things happen. Often I think He sends things to remind me how little I'm believing Him. I may be trembling after He tosses me sky-high. But there He is, the King and Father, His smiling eyes alight with excitement! And I can't help but smile back.

Sacrifice

While reading the Boundless blog, a link in today's post made me weep.

It happened 2,000 years ago. The innocent Lamb of God died in my place. I plan to read the account in at least one of the Gospels today. I just read Isaiah 53 this morning. But some things must be seen to feel their weight and horror.

Passover Sacrifice

Surely he hath borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows: yet we did esteem him stricken, smitten of God, and afflicted.

But he was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities: the chastisement of our peace was upon him; and with his stripes we are healed.

~Isaiah 53:4,5

After a Summer's Silence

My dear friends, and whoever else might chance upon my blog:

The summer has come and gone, without seeing one new thing posted here. So, to summarize high points of our crazy wonderful lives,

• finished painting, yard-saleing, and moving!
  
• learned to park the suburban in the back, between the car and fence, without fear of wrecking (Hurrah!)
• led a journaling workshop for girls
  
• visited family in Colorado, old friends in New Mexico, and were visited by family in Texas.
• mother taught two weeks of art camp for kids at a museum, and I got to help!
  
• drove across parts of east Texas several times. Every other hill or so, my mother would say it was her favorite part of Texas. She said the same thing while we drove across New Mexico and Colorado, too... ;)
  
• watched the 7-and-1/2-hour-long Bleak House mini-series (*cough* twice *cough*) and plunged into the even-better book. Astonished and falling quite in love with Dickens' writing. Such characters he paints, and with such paint!
• wrote a good bit of my novel
  
• drank lots of coffee
  
• read lots of books
  
• watched too many movies while drinking tea with fellow conspirators, my mom and youngest brother
  
• made lunches
• cleaned (now and then)
  
• organized
  
• listened to audio dramas and books on tape/CD/MP3
• ate oranges
  
• discovered the most scrumptious chocolate coffee cake recipe
  
• sewed cloaks
  
• journaled
  
• played in rain
  
• laughed
  
• cried
• pondered
  
• puzzled
  
• and even went roller skating, with much fun and bruises

It was busy, varied, and I hope God-honoring. I'll try to come around more often. The fall writing bug has bitten me bad lately. And it's been rainy and cool, perfect writing weather! So beware! The main danger to my writing is finding too much good stuff to read. ;)

The glory of glorifying the Glorious One

"Though this be madness, yet there is method in't."
~Polonius, from Hamlet~

This is my last week of regular classes. Next week is finals, and finally a week from tomorrow I shall graduate with my English degree. It has been wild, but it's already exciting to get to see small glimpses of the God's mighty plan behind and under and through it all. To Him be all the glory, for my grades, sanity, and so so much more!

I did not finish my NaNoWriMo novel. 15,000 out of 50,000 words was not bad for a first try, I think. I am definitely planning to try again next year. I refuse to be depressed and gloomy about my budding pages. The characters I met are alive and vibrant (to me, anyways), and the place they live is only frozen in time until I can get back there and finish writing their story. I intend to do it, and many more stories besides! Thanks to all who were encouraging me last month. The only reason I keep writing is because of you. And, of course, God. :-)

He's been working on me these last few days.

Monday was a horrid day. I woke up grumpy because I hadn't finished all my homework, so I rushed through an assignment, left a messy room, and was late to my first class. Then I found I had left my book at home and could only pretend to work on an in-class activity. By my next class, I felt ready to burst into tears, so I skipped it, which made me feel guilty on top of everything else.

It was not even any one thing that had me depressed. Maybe my pile of four papers, a creative project, and studying for a test for next week was a huge part of it. Maybe it was the ice on my windshield. Maybe it was the fact that I missed my morning cup of coffee. Anyway, I ended up with a headache, and after supper took a nap, which is usually the most effective medicine for me.

Around midnight I woke up. Headache was gone and replaced with such a comfortable cozy and relaxed feeling that I gave into it and went back to sleep. But I got up around 4:45 a.m., did my Bible reading, journaled, and finally cleaned my room while listening to the MP3 of Raising Dragons. The rest of the day (besides class time) I spent finding addresses, agonizing over proper forms of address, and carefully writing both on my graduation announcements.

After I finished late that night, it was such a satisfying feeling.

And then I watched the Prince Caspian trailer that was just released. :-) Not as thrilling and satisfying as watching the first one, and I might say something about my Puddleglum-ish complaints on it later. There are several weighty ones. But it was a small taste of what still might be a wonderful Narnia film, and I went to bed content.

That morning when I woke up I realized a small part of what God had done. He had used a headache, a messy room, and my act of writing announcements to remind me that I am not Him. I get too upset when I realize I can't do everything perfect, when I should remember that only He has that job covered. Papers too will pass away. Only His Word and people will endure (not that people are immortal on earth, but they will never cease to exist wherever they end up). What a relief to remember that! And it wasn't just remembering factually, in my brain: it was a huge perspective change.

I think doing the announcements was a huge part. I sometimes wonder if I am more encouraged when I send things to other people than they will be to get them. :) In this case it was just a plain announcement. But it made me think about other people, and my smallness, and my joy overflowed with the thought of God's hand.

God is bigger than the boogy man... and bigger than scary papers. All glory be to Him!

Sonnet and Shadow

A fruitful class: We read sonnets in my Shakespeare class last week, so a few nights ago I decided to finally write a sonnet of my own. I've wanted to do this for some time. Sonnets have a pleasant, unstilted rhythm because iambic pentameter is close to the way we naturally speak, which may be why I found mine easier to write than I expected! Still, I'm not quite satisfied with all the lines, so any suggestions or comments would be welcome.

On content: I've been thinking lately about how little we can know about what's inside another person, and the joys and perils that fact presents. This sonnet helped me think through and see things that hadn't occurred to me before.


Known

Does shadow lure because it is unknown,
Not evil-stained for all to see and mark,
Nor is it stamped with virtue, clearly shown,
But holds itself enshrouded, secrets dark?
Can it be right for good to hide its face,
For servant heart to work beneath the floor?
Why can we not draw out to light the base,
Monsters unmask, all foulness to abhor?
Why can we not know deepest depths of heart?
"It would be simple, thus, to judge," we deem.
Yet so fell man, by grasping for that part;
In never was ours first to grant esteem.
For God was wronged, He fully knows my sin,
Yet sees first Christ, my only Good within.

Authenticity Quotes

Here are some quotes that stuck out to me from a recent Boundless article:

We long for reality, even fake reality.

One irony in our culture is that, for all of our praise for "spontaneity" and "radical free choice," we are remarkably conformist. In a way, we are conformist in practice (all wearing jeans) while being nonconformist in principles (believing widely contrary ideas about honesty). Yet we should be personally flexible but morally predictable. We should agree on important values and then apply them in wide-ranging, freedom-inspired ways.

Authenticity practices a gracious honesty, and it takes wisdom to know when is the best time to say the fullness of what we think and feel.

Authenticity doesn't mean we never act insincerely. This sounds rather odd, but "pretending" is, at times, essential, inevitable, and ethical. In Faking It, William Ian Miller acknowledges that although insincerity conjures up many negative connotations, "I am not a hypocrite ... for pretending to find interesting what is dull, ... [n]or am I a hypocrite for putting on a somber face at the news of the untimely death of a person I didn't especially care for."

"Let us pretend in order to make the pretense into a reality." ~C. S. Lewis~