Why I Write: Young Adult

Continuing my summer series on Why I Write.

Last week I explained Why I Write: Fiction.

Today I'll tell you Why I Write: Young Adult (or YA). I didn't intend to write YA when I began. I was reading a lot of Francine Rivers and Deanne Gist back then, and beginners emulate. It's the way of many creative pursuits.

Well into my first draft I began to have some doubts. Was my character too young? Were her problems too juvenile? Were her friends too immature? Near the halfway point, I had a sudden, liberating realization: I was actually writing YA.

This freed me in many ways, and excited me. I have always loved YA. My favorite course in college was Dr. Shively's YA Lit class, where I was reintroduced to brilliant authors like Lois Lowry, Chris Crutcher, S.E. Hinton, Sandra Sisneros, Harper Lee, and L.M Montgomery. I had read their books as a kid, but now, studying them as an adult, their work became something new, fascinating, and wonderful to me.

They speak a different literary language. They're frank, bold, and unapologetically serious about problems that plague young adults.

They don't shy away from topics, or water things down. I love that. They don't talk down to their audience, or assume their young readers need words, sentences, issues, or stories simplified. They respect their audience, and the stage of life their audience is in.

Young readers need that. I needed that.

I was such a confused, love-sick, angst-filled young reader myself. I know this because I left a paper trail of all my confusion and heartache. I desperately needed to know I was not alone. I needed to know God was still real, and he was still near; still active and working in my life and in the world.

It was a time of questioning, and doubting, and seeking answers in the wrong place, and being so darn sure about every single thing I decided was true. It was a time of rebellion, of taking risks, of making mistakes. It was when I realized how important friendship was, and now that I'm an adult, I see how important my choice of friends was.

Most tragically, it was a time when I was obsessed with trying to figure out what would make me happy. The world was constantly shoving down my youthful throat that my happiness was all that mattered. Not my parents, not my future, and certainly not God.

"Do whatever makes you happy," is Satan's battle cry. It's an insidious command that leads to irreparably broken relationships. Young adults are so dangerously susceptible to it. Even faithful young adults.

That's why I write YA.

This question of personal happiness is my character's biggest struggle. It's why she teeters on the edge of a family that expects her to obey, and why she might miss out on sharing in their great destiny on the Mayflower. She believes obedience will lead to a life of misery, and she has an opportunity to leave her family and seek her own happiness. Will she take it? Will her desire for what she thinks will make her happy win in the end? What will become of her if she chooses happiness over duty, sacrifice, and perseverance?

Readers, even young readers, who have much to learn about consequences know the answers. They know her desire for happiness will lead her down a dark path, even though they may despise her father for saying it. They still know.

It's different to see this play out in someone else's life rather than one's own. An observer can see more clearly, with less emotion.

Readers will (I hope) yearn for her to choose obedience, to see her make the treacherous ocean crossing with her family, and watch her persevere with the rest of them in the New World.

And my earnest, constant prayer, is that readers will be encouraged by this story, so that when the time comes for them to choose obedience or happiness, they will be ready, strengthened, and buoyed. Capable of seeing the grand scheme, the next step, the joy to be had in a life of steady perseverance.

20 Things That Matter More Than the Almighty Book Deal

When you have a voice inside your head that whispers, "You should write a book," and won't shut up until you do what it says, it's hard to believe there is anything more revered, more longed for, more dreamed of, than the Almighty Book Deal.

Almost every writer who makes it to this point is still facing years--YEARS--of waiting. The journey looks different for everyone, but the waiting is universal. In time, you grow weary of worshiping at the alter of the Almighty Book Deal, and become discouraged that the sacrifice of your time, imagination, and sanity may not be enough to appease its voracious appetite.

Take heart, Aspiring Author. Here is a list of 20 things that matter more than the Almighty Book Deal (ABD).

1. Obedience. You were called to write this book, as crazy at it sounds to your family and friends. You obeyed the call when you typed, "Chapter One," and when you followed those words with 70,000 more. Stay obedient to it now.

2. Humility. I'm going to be honest with you. If you recently typed, "The End," and have only read it a second or third time all the way through, it still sucks. Even if your mom told you it was great. The sound of crickets coming from the literary agency isn't a sign that you should give up and close the file forever. It's just a timely dose of humility. Swallow it and get busy fixing what you did wrong in the first draft.

3. Relationship with other writers. You probably started writing, in part, because you're an introvert. Worry not. You don't have to go far to leave your cocoon. For writers, email and social media can be as valuable (sometimes more so) as a cup of coffee and a conversation across a real-life table. Seek out writer friends, unpublished ones for the mutual critique and camaraderie, and published ones for the mountains of knowledge, wisdom, and experience they bring. Don't count anyone out and give back as much as you know how to give.

4. Feedback. Yes, feedback matters more than the ABD. By the time you have the book deal, it's too late to fix the problems your readers will notice. Get as much feedback as possible. Accept it with grace. Even if you don't agree. Even if it makes you angry. Fix the problems and then get some more feedback.

5. Rejection. It stings, I know. Think of it as athletic conditioning. The first workout makes your muscles scream and burn, and you would rather die than go back for more. Go back anyway. The next time it hurts a little less. And the next time you notice you're stronger. Keep going back for more. The goal is to be lean and ripped, and you won't get there until you begin to look forward to the pain, because you understand the benefit of going through it. Let the rejections pile up. Take a little pride in each one, knowing how it has served to strengthen your spine and thicken your skin.

6. Perseverance. This one is no joke. My own engine has sputtered and died on occasion, and for a variety of reasons: a rejection, an illness, a negative critique, a season of busyness that kept my mind far from my stories. It leaves me drifting and listless and disinterested. It's a dangerous place to stay because this is when it seems logical to give up. After all, who would know? It's not like you have an editor beating your door down for the next chapter. But it can also be a time of clarity. When your drive to finish has stalled, and your craving for the ABD is diminished, you can see more clearly why you've been working at this for so long, how far you've come, and how messed up it would be to quit now. Don't quit. Call a friend to give you a jump and get that engine to turn over asap.

7. Time to make it better. There's no substitute for time. Use it well. An artist's work is never really finished anyway. These aren't Bob Ross paintings, a stroke here, and a happy little tree there, and in thirty minutes, you've got a complete masterpiece. Up close those things are a hot mess. Writing is 1% creating, and 99% editing. It's cutting away large chunks, tightening up sloppy dialogue, and cleaning the mess you left in the first draft. So, let the time pass, get busy, and trust me: It. Can. Always. Be. Better.

8. Growth. As a writer, yes, but also as a human being. People who achieve success too easily are stunted. It ruins them. Embrace growth.

9. Time away from the screen. After the ABD you will be a slave to deadlines, edits, social media, marketing, book tours, and blog tours. You're not there yet. So, step away from the screen. It's ok. No one has to know. Go for a walk. Mop the kitchen floor (if that's your thing). Journal about something no one will ever see. Enjoy your freedom while it lasts.

10. Maturity. It took a stint in federal prison for Prison Fellowship founder, Chuck Colson, to realize that nothing is more important than the maturing of the soul. Not wealth, not prosperity, not pleasure. Not even the ABD.

11. Prayer. Almost nothing is better for your prayer life than waiting, wondering, and striving toward something you think God has called you to. He will not grow tired of hearing your musings to him on the subject of the ABD. Write these prayers down and watch them change over time as you grow and mature in all ways.

12. Pleading. Like the deer that pants for the stream, plead with God to take from you this dream, and set your heart on another, if he desires that you do something else with your time and talents. When you find, day after day, that your heart is still tuned to it, plead with him to go with your on your journey, wherever it takes you. Plead with him to delay the ABD, slowing you down if your pride is likely to take you farther than he wants you to go. Plead with him to open doors of his choosing and to close others, and to help you in the fight to stay humble and obedient through every small victory.

13. Small victories. Celebrate every positive critique, every tough chapter you labor through to the end, and especially those long awaited words: "The End." Take note of the little gifts of divine inspiration that serve to reveal things in your writing you didn't see before. Let it encourage you to keep going, and fill you with hope that this labor is not all for nothing.

14. Acceptance. Another rejection, another contest lost, another year passed with nothing tangible to show for it. You're no closer than you were this time last year. The answer from God is, "Not yet." Accept it. Move on. There's no point arguing with him about the timing.

15. Contentment. Make your peace with what you've been forced to accept. This is how far as he's brought you, and this is where you'll stay for a little while longer. "Godliness with contentment is great gain." 1 Timothy 6:6

16. Self-sacrifice. It's so hard to pour so much of yourself into something no one else seems to care about. So many hours lost to dreaming, typing, staring out the window, perfecting a character's expression. The creative mind is a burden, churning constantly, leaving you in a fog while you perform daily responsibilities. It isn't normal to space off at Thanksgiving dinner, creating dialogue based on the bickering of your relatives, or to fantasize about visiting historical/exotic locales all by yourself. It's a lonely and secretive life. There's a cost to it. Give of yourself for something that will be much larger than you.

17. Introspection. Sometimes it feels like a punch in the throat to have to ask yourself, "Why am I even doing this?" after years of what feels an awful lot like wasted effort. But sometimes it's good to go back to the beginning, to remember why you started, to follow the thread of this thing you've been pursuing, and to look down and see your fist still firmly clenched around that thread.

18. God's presence. It's worth more than holding your work in your hands, seeing your name on the spine, more than royalties, more than winning a contest, or landing an agent, or the ABD. It just is.

19. God's sovereignty. Despite the Disney Channel's message that "if you work hard, your dreams will come true," it may not be God's will for you, or for me, to get the ABD. That has to be ok. No amount of waiting, or editing, or pleading for it will change God's already made up mind. How can you or I do anything but fall down before this holy, majestic, omnipotent God, who is so gracious to make our little lives matter?

20. God's glory. If I am focused solely on going after my own glory (which, let's face it, is what the ABD really is), I will not have eyes to see God's handiwork. Don't misunderstand. It is possible to balance excellence and ambition with godly humility. You can stay humble without staying hidden. Your talent can be valued and even celebrated without vainglorious self-promotion. You can strive toward excellence without being proud. You can work to hone and improve your skill without being self-obssessed. You do have to step back from yourself, your creation, your desires, your effort, your fear, your insecurity. Let your journey be interrupted. Let it go on longer than you expected. Let it sanctify you and glorify him. Let him worry about the ABD.

Encouragement To Keep Writing

"Perhaps." 

Adverb. 1528. Possibly but not certainly.

"Perhaps the Lord will be with me," Caleb says in Joshua 14:12b. Which is it? Possibly? Or not certainly? Maybe or maybe not? If He is not with Caleb disaster will surely reign. Caleb will be defeated, probably humiliated.

I entered a writing contest last month.  I stumbled on it and I had just given my manuscript a read-through so I uploaded the doc and clicked submit before I could talk myself out of it.  I've been scared to submit it to actual publishers.  Scared of being rejected, of being criticized, of feeling foolish for trying.  Of doing it too soon, before the work is ready.  So, obviously it wasn't ready for a contest either but I prayed really, really hard that "perhaps" God would cause the judges to like my work. I thought it was good enough to at least place. Turns out it wasn't.  "Perhaps" turned out to be defeat.

I was discouraged the day they announced the top 30 and I went to bed without an email from them to say congratulations. My confidence wavered to the point where I wondered why I even do this. Why do I think up these stories and ping away at the keyboard of my mini-HP for hours and hours and hours? It was confirmed that my work was not that good (I even found simple, stupid flaws in it when I looked at it again) and I despaired.

I thought, perhaps...perhaps the words I string together are only intended to be shared with Him. Perhaps all the hours writing have been in vain. Perhaps God does not wish for me success the way I have defined it. Perhaps in 5 years I will look back on this time of floundering creativity and laugh at what I once thought possible.

Perhaps paralyzed me.

But I studied more closely the Joshua 14 passage and I saw that Caleb was not shrinking nor wavering in confidence. He approached Joshua with boldness, recounting all the ways God had been faithful to him over the years. He had equal boldness in facing the still uncertain future. Excitement even, energy and enthusiasm for what he expected God to do--what he was confident God would surely do.

Perhaps his "perhaps" wasn't a hesitating, self-defeating, doubt-filled request, but a proclamation of humble expectancy. Perhaps this is Caleb saying, "God is God and does not march to the tune of my fife.  It is He who makes the winds blow until the grasses bend and break under the howling, invisible force of it.  I am but a man who knows naught but what God has already done and what He promised so long ago."

Can I say the same thing?

God has done so much for me and I know his promise is this:

Yet I am confident I will see the Lord's goodness while I am here in the land of the living. Psalm 27:13

So maybe...what if...who knows?  Perhaps He is with me.  Perhaps He sees my efforts.  Perhaps He is in this fight with me. This fight to be heard, to bring Him glory, to get better at my craft, to get my words out into the world so that they would teach, edify, and uplift young readers who are barraged with words that tear Him down.

This is a fight that is so easy for Him to manipulate to His favor (it seems insurmountable to me but He is God after all). But how much would it please Him for me to go forth into the scary world of publishing, with everything I have, committing everything I do to Him? Trusting Him to help me when I cry out to Him for help, and patiently waiting for Him to act in His time, in His way?  Perhaps He delights to surprise His people with what He can do.  Perhaps "perhaps" is enough for me to venture my call on a God like this.

Perhaps the Lord is with me.

The Big D: Countdown to the end

12 September
Every day that passes gets me closer to the end of this.  Until then, I just continue to carry on and stay active, putting things on the calendar and taking care of things that need taking care of but I think this last little bit is going to feel like the longest of the whole deployment.

I have a handful of friends whose husbands just returned in the last week or so and I'm not going to lie to you. It is so hard to see them with their husbands. I had to watch a friend and her family sit in front of me at church last Sunday and their little boy (who looks SOOO much like his daddy, who I had never seen before) was crawling all over him, clinging to him and whispering in his ear, and I knew how happy they were because I watched her cry, 10 days before his return, overwhelmed by the absence they had endured and the excitement of him finally coming home. But there I was, still alone and fighting the urge to be insanely envious of her. In those moments, it feels like I still have SO LONG to wait!

There are so many of those hard moments when it feels like this separation will never end, and maybe it even feels like the cost of this life is just too great.  I've heard from several women who are struggling and I'm the kind of person who says we have to be master of our emotions and turn to something that encourages us.

I happen to be reading "Bonhoeffer," right now, a book about a German pastor who stood up to Hitler in the years leading up to WWII and was arrested and executed for his part in an assassination attempt. He spent 18 months in prison before being executed by the Nazis but during those long months he was permitted to write letters and he had a fiancé named Marie who received many of them. Something he said to her in one of his letters has encouraged me and I go to it in my mind every time I want to feel sorry for myself or I wonder if this is all worth it:

"No, you needn't have a moment's worry--I'm not worried either. You do, of course, know from the little we've said to each other that danger exists not only out there [on the battlefronts] but here at home as well, sometimes rather less so, sometimes rather more. What man of today has the right to shun it and shrink from it? And what woman of today should not share it, however gladly the man would relieve her of that burden? And how indescribably happy it makes the man if the woman he loves stands by him with courage, patience , and above all--prayer." Dietrich Bonhoeffer

I want to encourage you who are struggling. The separation will end, the hard moments will pass, and when you are reunited, the painful memories will fade. I don't say this as an expert because I am still living through it. I say it because I believe it will happen. Be courageous, have patience, and pray.  If all else fails...

    

Lot's Lot In Life

My first college roommate was named Lindsay.  She was tiny, athletic, artistic, had a ton of friends, and was an identical twin.  She was also funny.  One day, while hanging out in our room in Phillips Hall, her sister took a wipe off marker and wrote on the full length mirror that was on the back of our door, "I like to get naked and poop."  It was just good, harmless fun all the time with them because they were, above all, Christians.  I was not at the time and they drove me crazy. 

In 1998 the internet was still relatively new.  I lost my internet virginity in that room in Phillips Hall by signing up for my first ever email account.  Lindsay was much  more worldly than me, and had been online long enough to have an assortment of AOL messenger friends.  She would chat with them at all hours.   I would be laying in bed at 2am and hear the thunder of her fingers on the keys: "dadadadadada."  Followed by the cheerful AOL, "Ding-dong!"  And then she would giggle at the screen, her face glowing white in the otherwise darkness of the room.  At 2-freaking-am!!  It was all I could do to keep myself from pressing my pillow into my face, writhing around on the bed and moaning, "For the love of God, STOP IT, PLEASE!" 


And she had 8am classes and I didn't.  Every morning she was up before me.  I didn't mind that.  But there was something inside one of her drawers that she kept in a walmart bag.  The rustling of that stinking walmart bag at 7:30 am when I didn't have to be up for another hour was enough drive me batty.

But I never said anything. I may not have been a Christian at the time but I was a nice person and I was polite.  She and her perky sister didn't have the market cornered on "nice."  Even us heathens could pull that off.

Before long Lindsay had a boyfriend from third floor Phillips.  It was common knowledge that Lindsay and Nick had never "done it."  I don't know if he was a Christian or not but he respected her enough to hold out for her.  He was incredibly smart.  One of those people that you can just tell will go on to get a masters, or maybe even a Ph.D.  (He had a fondness for Carl Sandburg.  Being an English major, I thought I should too so I bought a book of Sandburg poetry at the college bookstore.  I never even cracked it.  The following year, some of my friends who stayed in touch with his visited the house he shared with several other guys.  I went into his room and saw that he had copied lines from Sandburg's poems with a sharpie on his walls and ceilings.  Out of a book he borrowed from the library.  I had never felt like such a fraud.  Last I heard he was attending a Grad school in Wyoming and was married to a girl named Sadie.)

I had a boyfriend too.  I wish I could say that I took advantage of the wonderful, godly example that God placed in my path.  But I can't.  I threw myself at him like a love-starved teenaged girl and held nothing back.  At the end of the school year, he had already packed up his room and needed a place to sleep.  I said he could sleep in my room (which I had hardly been in since we had met--couldn't stand to be around that holier-than-thou crowd, y'know).  Lindsay put her foot down and said she wasn't comfortable with it.  My boyfriend and I had to unload his car and sleep on the floor in his room instead.  I was so mad at her, I don't think I ever spoke to her again after that.  School ended (and so did our boyfriends) and we moved on and our paths never crossed again.

It's painful for me to dredge up all those memories.  I don't really like who I was then and I can't help but think of the what-if's.  What if I would have let myself be influenced by Lindsay?  How would my college experience and consequently, my life, have changed?  How much shame and regret would I have been spared? 

The reason I am thinking about them this morning is because I have been looking back on Genesis at the completion of my monumental nine month study and the story that haunts me the most is the story of Lot.  He seems like a relatively minor character.  Though he survived the destruction of Sodom, he will forever be remembered for his wife being turned into a pillar of salt and for offering his virgin daughters to the pack of disgusting animals that waited outside his door.  Great legacy, right?

He did have a small portion of faith.  How could he not, having spent so much of his life in the shadow of his uncle, Abraham?  To Lot's credit, he believed the angels who came to warn him about the impending destruction.  Though he had become desensitized to sin after so many years in Sodom, he knew enough of Abraham's God to know that He didn't mess around.  He went to his daughters' fiances (I bet he neglected to mention what he almost did to their future wives) and told them in Genesis 19:14a, "Quick, get out of the city! The Lord is about to destroy it."  The bible doesn't describe Lot's life in sodom but one can pretty well guess how far he had strayed from Abraham's godly influence by the reaction of his future sons-in-law to his terrible news.  "But the young men thought he was only joking," Genesis 19:14b.

After dragging his butt, arguing with the angels, hesitating, and waffling, he barely makes it out.  All he has are his two daughters.  He has influenced no one in Sodom, not even his own family.  He had an opportunity, having lived in a depraved land and having witnessed God move in the life of his uncle, of saving hundreds or thousands, or maybe even hundreds of thousands.  God would have spared the city for 50 righteous people.  45 righteous people.  40, 30, 20--even 10 righteous people would have saved them all (Genesis 18:24-32).  But Lot's witness was totally wasted.

Well maybe not wasted.  Nothing is wasted, right?  Every word that finds its way into scripture is there to teach us something.  Lot's life made no impact on the world around him but his story still shows us today how a person can be saved and still be useless to God.

Do you see why that haunts me?  I was like Lot back in college and Lindsay was Abraham.  I had been baptized.  I attended church as a child.  I knew God.  He gave me Lindsay to show me and teach me but I was not interested in that.  I wanted Sodom.  That was a time in my life when I was useless to God. 

But it wasn't wasted either.  The story ends well.  I followed that worthless boyfriend around, working where he worked over the summer.  After he dumped me and fell off the face of the earth, I continued working at the same place.  Three years later, near the end of my junior year of college, I was walking back from my lunch break and crossed paths with a handsome security guard with a dark crew cut and light blue eyes.  A year later we were saying, "I do."  Eleven years and three kids later, we are still going strong.

Lot's story ends well too, eventually.  One of his surviving daughters gave birth to Moab, whose family later became the Moabites.  Though they fought with and tormented Abraham's descendants, the Hebrews, all was not lost.  Ruth, grandmother of David, ancestor of Jesus Christ, was a Moabitess.



Friends, how would the people who know you best react if you told them about God?  Would they think you were joking?  Would they laugh in your face?  If so, then something needs to change.  We don't have the same sense of urgency as Lot.  Our world isn't going to end by dawn tomorrow.  But it will end some day.  And what we do with our time here--it matters.  The people we influence for good matters.  Lindsay's influence, though it was not felt at the time, it mattered.  Don't let your witness be wasted and drag your feet when the time comes to follow God out of this world like Lot did.  Who would have followed me if God had spoken to me at that time in my life and told me to warn everyone?  We get to read his story today to learn how to leave behind a better legacy than he did.  Take advantage of it.  You never know how your life will make an impact.

There's this girl.....

I'm going to do it.  I'm going to take a risk.  Last week I wrote all about how we were made to do big things and that there is a sense of urgency because this life is brief.  So what good is all that thinking and pontificating if I don't even take my own advice? 

So I have no choice in the matter, really!  What am I going to do, you ask?  Well, it's kind of hard to say it out loud because I might never even finish it.  Or if I do, nothing may come of it.  It could be a huge waste of time.  Wait a minute....maybe I should rethink this....NO!!  I have to!  Right?!?!  Okay...want to know what it is?  I'm going to...er...I'm going to attempt to...umm...well, I'll just spit it out:  (gulp) I'm going to write a novel.

What on earth makes me think anyone else would have any desire to read a story that comes out of my head, you ask?  It's all right.  I've asked myself that many times already.  But I've come to the conclusion that it doesn't really matter.  I'm not doing it for acclaim, or accomplishment, or wealth.  Those are things the world offers and 1 John 2:15 tells us not to love this world or the things in it because "the world is fading away, along with everything people crave."  And besides, I know for certain that my mom and my sister will read it, so it won't be a total loss, right?

I am doing this for one reason.  This is something I can do that can bring honor to God.  I believe that when He poured the ingredients into the soup of my soul He threw in some gifts and talents that combine for the perfect recipe to make a writer.  For a long time I didn't even know I had these gifts and talents.  Then I had a feeling I might possess them but I let them simmer for a while so that I could have my babies and take some time to get to know God better. 

Then an interesting sequence of events transpired.  Several months ago a good friend loaned me a book by Francine Rivers and I fell in love with fiction again. 

That's how it began. 

I'll continue the story in subsequent blogs.  And I'll reveal bits of the other story, you know...the novel (it feels strange even saying that).  All I'll say for now is that there's this girl...she wants something really badly and she's willing to risk everything to get it.  And when she finally gets it?  Well, that's when the story really gets interesting.  Her story is my story.  It's every person's story who has ever pursued a relationship with the One who made them only to discover that we were made for a purpose--one that is scary and foreign and seemingly impossible.

To be continued......

Boasting about the "What if's"

A new job begins today for my beloved.  A blessing?  That remains to be seen.  It's hard to say when there are so many what ifs.

We can't help but strategize with our limited human imaginations: "What if this new job keeps you from doing the part-time thing you've got going on the side...what if it isn't enough to pay the bills....what if the people there can get you a job at a department you REALLY want....what if taking this job means a better opportunity is passed up....what if this turns out to be so great we might want to move to be closer....what if this turns out to be a dead end and a total waste of time....what if....what if?"

I have never doubted that God would work all things out for good to us who love Him.  But there are so many twists and turns and decisions to be made along the way.  I have to force myself to resist asking God for answers to the "what if" questions.  It's not for me to know and I probably couldn't handle it anyway.  Life never makes sense when we're looking ahead or when we're in the middle of it.  It's only in hindsight that we can see the purpose in the pain.

I will also resist making up my mind what would be "best" for us.  A job here or a job there?  Or how about a job here for a year or two and then a job there.  And we won't be satisfied until the ultimate dream job becomes a reality.......right?  But this is the biggest "what if" of all: what if the thing we say we want the most is not really in God's plan for us at all? 

Jesus' brother, James, warns us of doing this in his book, James 4:13-15.  "Look here, you who say, 'Today or tomorrow we are going to a certain town and will stay there a year.  We will do business there and make a profit.'  How do you know what your life will be like tomorrow?  Your life is like a morning fog--it's here a little while , then it's gone.  What you ought to say is, 'If the Lord wants us to, we will live and do this or that.'  Otherwise you are boasting about your own plans, and all such boasting is evil."

Lord, help us not to waste this pain by boasting about our plans.  We do not pretend to know what's better for us than You do.  And we look with anticipation to the day when we will look back on this, a changed family, transformed by the pain--made better by it, making sense of the trial, and thanking You for it.