A Letter from Bridget

In my Creative Writing class, I gave students the assignment of creating a fictional character and then having that character write them a letter. The exercise helps you climb inside your character’s head and make them reveal their deep, dark secrets. When I decided I should do the assignment along with them, I chose Bridget O’Sullivan, the protagonist from my third novel, Bleak Landing. Bridget’s letter to me took a twist I hadn’t expected, but which seemed too good to keep to myself. Enjoy!

Dear Terrie,

Let’s get one thing straight right from the start. I’m only writing this for my class assignment because I’d rather die than settle for less than an A. I feel silly addressing a letter to you because, as you already know—or would know if you really existed—I don’t believe in you. Just so we’re clear: I do not believe you exist. When I told this to my best friend, Maxine, she said, “How did you get here then?”

Maxine is so gullible.

On those rare occasions when I sometimes wonder if I’m wrong, the best conclusion I can draw is that perhaps you exist, but if you do, you certainly don’t care about me. So I return to my original conclusion because deciding you don’t exist is easier than hating you. And if you existed, I’d have to hate you.

Supposedly, you are the Author of this miserable story in which I find myself. Supposedly, you control what happens to me. So, I must ask the inevitable. Why did you let my mother die when I was only five? What kind of love does that to a little kid? Why couldn’t you have taken Pa instead? My mother might have had a tough time providing for us, but at least she wouldn’t have been drunk half the time. She would never beat me, and she certainly wouldn’t have promised that filthy ol’ poker player he could have first chance at me as soon as I turned fifteen. I hate Pa for that, but I hate you even more for not preventing him from making that wager.

If you cared at all about me, you wouldn’t have let those rats Victor and Bruce lock me in the outhouse. You’d have come to my rescue somehow, but you didn’t. Near as I can tell, you let it happen for one reason only: to entertain your precious readers. You care more about them than about me.

If you loved me, why did you let my landlady’s house burn down with everything I owned inside? And while I was at church, yet? Trying so hard to be good. Harriet Watson says I should be thankful I wasn’t home at the time or I might have been badly burned or even died. She says I should feel grateful to you for sparing me. She’s wrong, but I can’t very well argue with her when she’s been so kind to me. Far more kind than you’ve been.

Victor’s mother says I should trust you and be patient because the story isn’t over yet. “All the bad things will be redeemed,” she says. “One day you will look back over your story and you’ll see how Terrie was with you every step of the way.” She tells me you allow us to go through hard things so we can grow. She says you hurt along with us, and sometimes you even cry when those awful things happen. I want to believe her, but how can I? Even the few good things that have happened in my life turned bad. They’ve made me mean enough to lose my best friend.

The way I see it, there’s only one way I could believe in you. If you really are my creator and you’re in charge of this book and you love me … you would need to write yourself into this story. You’d need to leave your precious home and come here and be one of us. Live in our world. Go through this Great Depression alongside us. Walk barefoot in the dirt. Eat nothing but eggs and potatoes for weeks on end. You’d need to do something truly heroic. Perform some miracles to show us your so-called power. Sacrifice in a really big way to demonstrate your love. You might even need to die.

I guess if you did all that, I would have to believe in you. Write yourself into my story and then I’ll believe.

Doubtfully,

Bridget 

If you've yet to read this book, click on the picture to purchase.

 

It Tolls for Thee

My third novel, Bleak Landing, released two years ago this month. Its first page contains an unusually lengthy dedication page. I chose to dedicate that book to the pastors and pastors’ wives who have influenced me in a positive way throughout my life. There are ten couples on the list. I suppose it’s an unusual thing to do, but I knew I’d never write enough books for each to have their own and I wanted to honor them all.

In recent weeks, two of the people on that list of twenty have died. In May, my friend and mentor Linda Letellier left this world for the next. I’m thankful to have seen her last fall and for modern technology which allowed me to view her funeral service online from Mountain Lake, Minnesota. The cover of the program showed a beautiful picture of her pulling biscuits from the oven, holding them toward the camera with her huge, hospitable smile. It said, “I’m home. I’m safe. I like it here.”

More recently, we said good-bye to Donna Lee, who was my pastor’s wife when I was growing up in Amaranth. In a packed-out little country church, we felt inspired by stories of the impact made through her humble, obedient life. She touched many hearts. We walked away encouraged to never let go of God, no matter what life throws at us.

I sometimes wish I lived in a place and time of tolling bells. In our world of rapid communication, we see no need for happy church bells to ring out on wedding days, or for somber funeral bells to let us know someone in the community has passed away. I think the clanging of those bells would serve as helpful and regular reminders that we are here for only a short time, that our turn is coming. The bells remind us we are all part of one another.

Often, people don’t want those reminders. I happen to believe they are healthy. If we live each day remembering that the next funeral could be our own, wouldn’t we live differently? I don’t mean in the “life is short, grab all the gusto you can get” kind of way. I mean it in the “what will really matter after I’m gone?” kind of way.

On the day you die, will the things you’re worried about today matter? Your fears and cares? The grudges you’re hanging on to? What do you hope people remember about you? When stories are told, will they be of love, generosity, and grace from your hand? Or will you be remembered for lesser things…your hobbies, your possessions, your obsessions? Will the funny stories about you be tainted with a hint of bitterness or will they be shared with pure and honest admiration? Will others aspire to be more like you? Will those who know you best have sweet memories to inspire and encourage them on their journeys? Will they know how much you loved them?

Each day brings you one step closer to that day. What’s one thing you can do this day to make that day everything you hope it will be? Name it, then do it. What’s stopping you?

No one has said it more poetically than John Donne: “…any man’s death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind, and therefore never send to know for whom the bells tolls; it tolls for thee.”

A Letter from the Palace

Last week I received a letter from Buckingham Palace.

In January, my friend Lucy suggested I send Her Majesty a copy of my third novel, Bleak Landing. The book includes a scene from 1939 when King George VI and Queen Elizabeth (our current queen’s parents) visited Winnipeg. As I researched and wrote about that event, what intrigued me most was how Prime Minister Mackenzie King and Winnipeg’s Mayor John Queen accompanied their Majesties on their various tours. The poor radio announcer, describing for his listeners the actions of the King and the Queen and Mayor Queen and Prime Minister King, got tongue-tied. Rumor has it he grew frustrated enough to swear on air, although that cannot be substantiated.

One hard-cover, large-print edition of Bleak Landing remained on my shelf waiting for the right recipient. I took Lucy’s suggestion and mailed it to the Queen, along with a nice letter. What did I have to lose but a few bucks in postage?

In the process, I learned about royal gift protocol and what types of gifts royal family members can accept. They may, for example, eat any food they receive. Perishable gifts with a value of less than £150 can also be given to charity or staff. Gifts cannot be sold or exchanged and eventually become part of the Royal Collection, held in trust by the Queen for her successors and the nation.

A list of the Queen’s official gifts from 2018 includes over seventy items, ranging from Lego to framed charters to photographs to statues to jewelry to salt. And yes, books. I wonder if mine will be on the 2019 list when it’s released next spring.

I imagined my book becoming one of a gazillion items collecting dust in a gigantic warehouse where some poor scribe must document each one in a dusty, ancient record book with a quill pen. (I also imagined Her Majesty riveted to my book late into the night, while sitting in her royal bed sipping Earl Grey from her royal teacup.)

I would wait and see.

Four months later came the frame-worthy reply, written by Her Majesty’s lady-in-waiting, Lady Susan Hussey. While the letter makes no promise of the Queen or anyone else actually reading my book, it is filled with the gracious thanks one expects from royalty. When I did a bit of digging on Lady Hussey, I discovered she recently turned eighty years old. A baroness herself, she is godmother to Prince William, and has served the Queen basically her entire adult life. One can only imagine how many of these thank-you letters she has written.

As lovely as it feels to receive a letter from the palace, the royal stationary will never match the value of a much finer letter from a far more powerful source. It’s a love letter from the King of kings, and you and I have access to it every day. According to Hebrews 4, the Word of God is alive—meaning it has power to change you, not just once, but over and over. Nothing and no one is impervious to a Bible. Test it out for yourself and see. If Shakespearean English isn’t your first language, find a modern translation like the New International Version or even a paraphrase like The Message. If you’re not sure where to start, begin with the life of Jesus as recorded by Matthew, Mark, Luke, or John. Digest a few verses or a chapter per day.

Then wait and see.