How many antidotes are necessary?

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Hearts hand-quilted during this summer, including one from last night.

I'm not posting an excerpt, merely wishing to get my head around a piece of writing, all seventeen chapters of it, that kinda emerged outta the blue, or the gray, as today along the North Coast it's seriously MARINE LAYER DAY. Like the marine layer is super-peeved at unceremoniously being shoved aside in recent weeks for plenteous sunshine and is asserting itself in a You Can't Touch Me sort of way.

I could giggle at that marine layer, which won't last forever as it's already close to Mid-August, but this isn't a Where has summer gone? post. This is a How many antidotes are necessary? entry, as again I write a chapter littered with spiritual references and emotional upheaval.

I have a post waiting, entitled The message of reconciliation. It's based on a line in an aged hymn, Praise My Soul, the King of Heaven, which like many ancient hymns is merely the first line of the lyrics. "Slow to chide and swift to bless" is the line that led to that post's creation, but maybe I'm writing that post now, kinda like how I'm writing this book, or what's turned into a novel that originally was meant only as a short story to update where the Lund family has meandered to in what might be less than halfway through The Enran Chronicles. Not that this novel/section is going to turn into a saga ala The Hawk, LOL, only that it's muscling its way, like that stealthy marine layer, into the forefront. Whatever novel/long novella/majorly long short story! Do what makes you smile, fictional WIP.

A few stars shine in the early morning hours as the marine layer backs off long enough for me to get this shot. 

Because as long as it's not hurting anyone, and right now I don't think it is, it's FINE. F as in Fabulous, I as in Intriguing, N as in Nice and E as in Earnest. Oh my goodness, it's earnest in the most smirky way. Lots of smirking in this series, between Suze and Tia and if Squee could smirk, Squee would. I don't mean Squee the steer, but Squee the Donsaret, but let's keep this post related to current characters within my fictional WIP. Squee the Donsaret gets Squee's moment in the marine layer later on....

What if we all were slow to chide and swift to bless? What if fictional antidotes to world upheaval weren't necessary? What if I wasn't asked to be a messenger of reconciliation, but as a believer in Jesus Christ, I am called to that, yet not in a knock on your door manner. In a far more subtle way, writing books and blog posts. Gently I go into that good day and night via stories and prayers and now humming along to an old, meandering hymn of which I can post the lyrics because it's beyond copy-write laws. In the public domain is Praise My Soul, the King of Heaven, and here's another line that this morning made me cry: "Ransomed, healed, restored, forgiven...." Really? I mean, truly?

Yup. Seriously. Or what about: "Fatherlike he tends and spares us, well our feeble frame he knows." This isn't the judgmental overlord many who claim Christ espouse. This is LOVE drenching us like essential rain. Like the coast-hugging marine layer that hopefully is helping firefighters battle the Mile Post 18 Fire in Hoopa today. This is the God's honest truth about, well, God. Love is key. Love is truth. Love is what makes this world actually spin on its axis, not greed or selfishness or power-grabs or data centers or even my adorable quilts. Or my FINE books, lol. Love is why God sent his son, why Christ died, why anything at all matters in this crazy corner of the universe.

Amaryllis blooming at our house, photo courtesy of my husband.

"Sun and moon, bow down before him, dwellers in all time and space." Oh my goodness, when I read that line in the last stanza, I had to smile, for I'm writing all about folks having resided in faraway galaxies. God covers aliens too, as he made them, and they're not always the villains.

In my novel/novella/extremely long short story, aliens are as human as the humans. Just as needy, just as lovable, and just as devoted to Christ. Because God isn't about taking over a planet, he's not about subduing by violence, he's not about squeezing the last ounce of dignity from any person. He's the exact opposite, why he came as a vulnerable baby, and why he died on a cross. Why he makes me write funny, at times soppy, emotionally charged character-driven fiction where people smirk and sigh and seek his grace while enjoying a cold beer. Because he loves us humans and wants the best for us.

So that's a Thursday post for you. Not sure I'll write the one entitled Messenger of reconciliation, but if it emerges, you've had a heads-up. Now it's time to check the hens. Perhaps a chicken post is due. We'll see what happens.

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