Four more sleeps and I'm off on my mile-high adventure - my first writer's conference since 2000, definitely my first one this big. And certainly the first time I've gone off with a book under my arm, hoping to meet just the right agent or editor who will love it--or at least see its potential. Two weeks shy of my 52nd birthday, I'm a little slow out of the starting gate.
It's a funny thing, though. The closer I get to take-off day, the less it seems to be about the book. Other writers have said by the time a book is published, they're so sick and tired of the thing it's all very anticlimactic. I'm beginning to get that.
Not that I wouldn't love to see it published. It's just that as I prepare to go, I find myself praying a lot less about putting my manuscript in the right hands and a lot more about what God wants me to hear from him. And that's a good thing. I've been walking with him long enough to know that usually what you think he has for you and what he actually has for you are two very different things. I'm learning to watch for his surprises and appreciate them when they come. Experience has shown me that when I ask him a big question and really listen for his answer, it often comes in the form of an assignment--and probably one that doesn't make much sense to me. Mostly, I'm learning to trust him with outcomes. After all, "outcomes" are pretty much out of our hands anyway, right?
So I'm asking my friends who pray to pray for me. Please. There's so much I could ask for, but if you just ask that I will hear from God, I believe everything else will fall into place.
I'd love to do the same for you. If you would like prayer, send me an email at the address at the top of this blog (or comment here if you don't mind who sees it) and tell me how I can pray for you today. I promise I will.