Some things remain under wraps

Seven of eight hens, as one was being camera shy. More about the chickens at the end of this post.

While I've placed several excerpts of On Being Brave within this blog, now the end is nearing, so no spoilers. In part for myself, because if I change my mind and drastically alter a chapter, though usually I don't, I also don't need that recorded here. This novel, which wasn't meant to be a novel, carries great hope and some darker undertones. And sometimes it's tricky keeping my head above the rollicking waves, assured of my own safety.

I don't write dark fiction. I do write tense, emotionally charged scenes. I write deaths, I write deep loss. But overall a Happily Ever After triumphs because that aligns to my core beliefs. A week or two ago the Sunday reading was about Peter walking on water to meet Christ, standing on the lake. Peter was doing just fine until he took his eyes from Jesus, then promptly began to sink. Jesus hauled him up, and the main takeaway is, well, twofold. Keep one's eyes on Christ as well as Christ always keeping his eyes on us. For us, not allowing all the dark noise to dampen or subdue or distract or waylay or anything similar, but to remember we are loved, safe, secure. I've been keeping that in my mind in writing this story, because a lotta SHITE has gone down, but I'm still okay.

Of course I can say the same about other parts of this world, but do I need to? Isn't it enough that I'm writing after a few years of not, and maybe the tale is WAY longer than I thought, but then there's The Hawk, and I finally found The End of that, so best to keep moving forward under the kind, loving hand of what fuels my heart. Maybe the title of this book, On Being Brave, isn't so much about the plethora of characters and plot lines, but more about me.

Huh.

Okay, well, moving along.... No, wait. Not that navel gazing is my thing, but let me pause a moment and consider this. This blog is now about contemplation, among other pastimes, so let's be contemplative for even a minute. Being brave; what does that signify? Not merely going boldly where no others have previously gone, lol. It means shedding the fear. Stepping in confidence, ala St. Peter before he was a saint, only a fisherman firmly attached to this guy who claims I am and 'nuff said. So Peter, rough but good-hearted, faithful if not headstrong at times, steps outta that boat and starts plodding along on the water. He's WALKING ON THE WATER, staring at Christ, until he looks askance. Waves. Winds. He's standing on the freaking WATER, what the.... Then the courage falters, corporeal reality overwhelms, and he plummets, asking Jesus to save him.

And Jesus does. (Matthew 14:22-33)

God seems to be asking me to step from my comfort zone of melodramatic familial drama into something less mellow. More dramatic. Not always with a happy ending. No spoilers, but.... I need to be courageous. Fully aware all will be well, in my little fictional realms as well on a grander stage. On a scale I can't fathom, I truly can't, but that's okay because 1) it's not my fight and 2) it never was. All the terrors come and go, more than I could list, but people keep being brave. We keep pulling courage outta our back pockets. We keep smiling despite the winds and waves and disbelief. Despite all that, the world continues to turn.

Not always as we'd like, but what do we know? How am I supposed to ask for world peace if I can't trust my silly, not so small story is gonna come out okay? I did this SO OFTEN when writing The Hawk, wondering how in the hey was I gonna wrap up all this STUFF. But I did. The same goes for That Which Can Be Remembered, Alvin's Farm, novel series that began small, but grew like the mustard seed, the smallest seed that represents minuscule faith which can grow exponentially. It merely needs to land in good soil and...

Twice I typed soul instead of soil, LOL! How can I stress out about HUGE things far beyond my capacity to (micro)manage when I can't even stop a story from bolting the yard. All The Enran Chronicles initially were was a way to deal with grief. One story. That got full of itself. Found a discarded chapter. And now I'm working on Book Five. We can't control life, not much of it. I can't even keep the chickens from literally flying the coop! Four were out early this morning, not seemingly frightened that foxes are lurking. I bribed them back into the run with scratch, now again one is loose. Fine, you silly hens. I'm gonna trust that as you've stayed alive all summer, (hopefully) today will be another good day for everybody.

I put hopefully in parentheses because, well, who knows? Maybe today won't be a good day. But I saw a rabbit skedaddling around earlier, the foxes haven't eaten it. Now rabbits are faster than chickens, but.... But again I'm being asked to be brave. To trust. To wrap up this post and move on.

Okay, post done. Have a wonderful Wednesday!