A Life of Surrender is a Life of Adventure

Today, Christian writer and book blogger, Nikole Hahn, invited me to be a guest on her blog. I saw this as a great opportunity to introduce the complicated topic of surrender as the key ingredient of a peaceful heart.

Surrender is a loaded word conjuring up images of defeat.  Growing up with five brothers I learned early on that only the strong survived.  Life was about winning. Our days were a series of board games, contests and secret clubs in the attic where we had to prove our worth to belong.  Surrender was unthinkable unless you were being dangled by your feet over the third floor stairwell, and even then you did it with your fingers crossed behind your back. Surrender was for sissies.

This philosophy framed my thinking as I ventured out into the world.  I would win at that, too.  I knew the rules. I knew how to be nice to others and work hard. Winning was fantastic!  That is, until I started losing. Losing sleep, losing interest, losing a sense of real meaning and purpose to life amidst all of the frenetic activity and endless repetition that filled my days. Something important was missing.

My marriage and family began to fall apart, and I along with it. I was so tired of competing that I wanted to fling the game board across the room and turn my head so I didn’t see where the pieces of my life scattered. One bleak day, I raised my white flag and did the unthinkable. I gave up and put my future in God’s hands. When I look back now, I see that it had nothing to do with weakness.

Surrendering was the strongest moment of my life.

Choosing surrender as a lifestyle is about letting go of shoulds and musts and embracing life as it unfolds. It is about living in the present and accepting ambiguity as part of a divine process. Trusting in a greater power to teach, guide and reveal opportunity for good works when the time is right. Accepting that each of us is a Helper Bee and not the Queen.  The moment I stopped controlling outcomes and threw away the almighty checklist was the moment magic, grace and profound peace found their way back into my days.

It’s difficult to let go of cultural expectation. From a very young age we are taught, consciously and subconsciously, what “happiness” is supposed to look like. Surrender demands that we push our hand, palm out and fingers spread wide, against the seductive pull of a materialistic culture that promises a deep, lasting peace it cannot provide. Letting go of these limiting cultural myths and norms allows us the freedom to reach within ourselves and find out who we are meant to be.

One of my favorite mantras when traveling is “Let the trip take you.”  This attitude takes the unnecessary pressure of expectation out of the journey and introduces the joy of adventure, the element of surprise when you happen upon something delightful that you never could have planned.  I now apply this in a broader sense to my life.

The fruit of surrender is real joy.  Give it a try, one tiny white flag wave at a time!

Saturdays From 1-3

For the rest of my life the phrase “Saturday from 1-3″ will hold a tender significance. Some authors loathe bookstore signings.  They warned me that they can be lonely places that do nothing but reinforce your deep fear that nobody really cares about your book.

“Bookstore events are a thing of the past,” they’d say. “The sale of a few books is not worth your time and travel expenses.  Use the internet.  It’s cheaper and reaches a larger audience.”

Perhaps there is truth to all of this. But the internet can’t replace the human exchange between the writer and the reader.  It is sacred territory. I am happy to sit, legs crossed and back straight, at a wobbly table near the entrance to the store.  Happy to drum my fingers on a stack of books waiting for new homes as the clock ticks because I know that there will come that one person who has driven to the store to meet me.

To laugh and share her tale of life in a foreign land that she misses with a desperation she can taste and just knew that I would understand. She wants to feel that again, alive and vibrant, and she thinks the book will transport her back to a happier time.

Or to sidle up to the table eyes cast downward, introducing himself as the father of a daughter who has left her husband. A father who finally lifts his gaze to mine to reveal blue eyes glistening with tears because, he blurts out, he loves them both. He doesn’t think they understand what this will do to the whole family. He prays that the book will give them hope, steer then back to each other.

And the one who strode with confidence to the table, picked up a copy and stated that he, as a clergyman, was offered a post in Rome.  But he just didn’t know if he had the courage to move there.  It would be three years, he confided with a voice that did not match his stride at all. Did I think he should go?  Perhaps the book would help in his decision.

Or the couple, hand in hand, searching for an adventure.  They saw the title in the paper and thought, why not?  Why can’t they do something like this? What’s stopping them other than their fear of the unknown. Could I share with them some of the nuts and bolts of moving abroad?

These are the exchanges that feed my writer’s soul.  A book is so much more than the author’s story, and I respect that sacred space between me and the reader.  The story finds its power in their souls, not mine.

So as I continue to call bookstores and ask if I might be able to set up a signing, I don’t mind if they tell me that their signings are not usually lucrative for the author.  Because I know that will not be the point of my being there.