AFFIRMATION
What was I doing here? The past three days were a whirlwind of seminars, networking, and meeting other writers most of whom had already been published and many who had written books. I was fooling myself if I thought I belonged to this group of prestigious people. Me, who was only dreaming about writing.
It was my first writer’s conference. I had found the advertisement in a writers’ periodical.
“You should go!” My husband had always been an encourager.
“It’s so far!”
“Nonsense. Take your time getting there. Three days down and three days back. The time away will be good for you to reflect and see what God has in mind for you.”
He was right. I knew it. The last nine months had been a time of deep introspection. I had believed at the time I did the right thing by quitting my job. I knew God had another plan for me. I had believed it was writing. As the months lingered, I felt foolish over the decision I had made.
Five years earlier, I had prayed for a passion, something that would drive my energies. Since my youngest child had left home, my zest for living diminished each day until getting up in the morning seemed pointless. Soon after uttering that desperate plea for renewal, I attended what I termed a feel good seminar, the kind of workshop that motivates a person to go home and hug all the neighbors. I arrived with the poorest of attitudes, expecting nothing but bubbles of intent that burst as soon as the daily grind resumes. With exuberant pleading the speaker asked, “What do you want to do with the rest of your life?”
We were instructed to write our thoughts on a 3 by 5 index card. Without hesitation I wrote, WRITE. He then told us to expand the dream. I asked myself, “What would I write about?” I awakened from my daydreaming with a jolt. The speaker was addressing me, and I found myself publicly declaring a desire to write for Christ.
Riddled with uncertainty and insecurity, I resisted the call for another four years until the burning desire consumed me completely. I resigned my position and thrust myself upon a road of discovery.
The journey had brought me to this conference. As I mingled with faculty and other writers and heard of their accomplishments, my doubts escalated. What right did I have to place myself in the same category as those who had proved their worth? What had I done? I’d chucked a good paying job to pursue a career that I was too inept to ever realize.
Traditionally, the conference held an awards night. From the buzz of excitement surrounding me, I surmised the activity generated much enthusiasm. Like hopefuls at the Oscars, contestants held their breath as the winners in each category were announced. The first place of each category, published and unpublished, would be eligible for the top honors of the evening, The Award of Excellence.
With no expectations, I had submitted an article and three poems in the unpublished category. I was thrilled when my article received an honorable mention. That alone was an encouragement in an otherwise self-deprecating experience. Third and second place for poetry were announced.
How wonderful for them, I thought, as I watched each winner nearly gallop to the front to receive the coveted certificate. “And first place unpublished poetry goes to Linda Rondeau for Whispers of Hope.”
Now I was dazzled with disbelief. Surely, the announcer had called the wrong name. A friend seated next to me, poked me to get up and get my certificate. I had never won anything in my life, not even a raffle. As if in slow motion, I accepted the honor.
A few more awards were given for other categories. Then, the trophy was brought forward. A hush fell upon the exuberant audience as if angels were hovering. “The Award of Excellence goes to—
She stopped and looked at the certificate. “This is the first time this award has been given for poetry—The Award goes to Linda Rondeau for *Whispers of Hope.”
The applause was deafening. My knees seemed too weak to carry me to the podium. Angels’ wings ushered me toward my affirmation, and I felt as if God himself had smiled upon me.
*Authors note: Soon after this award, Whispers of Hope was published in a church newsletter and later in VISTA, a publication of The Wesleyan Church.
by Linda Rondeau
http://www.lindarondeau.com
It was my first writer’s conference. I had found the advertisement in a writers’ periodical.
“You should go!” My husband had always been an encourager.
“It’s so far!”
“Nonsense. Take your time getting there. Three days down and three days back. The time away will be good for you to reflect and see what God has in mind for you.”
He was right. I knew it. The last nine months had been a time of deep introspection. I had believed at the time I did the right thing by quitting my job. I knew God had another plan for me. I had believed it was writing. As the months lingered, I felt foolish over the decision I had made.
Five years earlier, I had prayed for a passion, something that would drive my energies. Since my youngest child had left home, my zest for living diminished each day until getting up in the morning seemed pointless. Soon after uttering that desperate plea for renewal, I attended what I termed a feel good seminar, the kind of workshop that motivates a person to go home and hug all the neighbors. I arrived with the poorest of attitudes, expecting nothing but bubbles of intent that burst as soon as the daily grind resumes. With exuberant pleading the speaker asked, “What do you want to do with the rest of your life?”
We were instructed to write our thoughts on a 3 by 5 index card. Without hesitation I wrote, WRITE. He then told us to expand the dream. I asked myself, “What would I write about?” I awakened from my daydreaming with a jolt. The speaker was addressing me, and I found myself publicly declaring a desire to write for Christ.
Riddled with uncertainty and insecurity, I resisted the call for another four years until the burning desire consumed me completely. I resigned my position and thrust myself upon a road of discovery.
The journey had brought me to this conference. As I mingled with faculty and other writers and heard of their accomplishments, my doubts escalated. What right did I have to place myself in the same category as those who had proved their worth? What had I done? I’d chucked a good paying job to pursue a career that I was too inept to ever realize.
Traditionally, the conference held an awards night. From the buzz of excitement surrounding me, I surmised the activity generated much enthusiasm. Like hopefuls at the Oscars, contestants held their breath as the winners in each category were announced. The first place of each category, published and unpublished, would be eligible for the top honors of the evening, The Award of Excellence.
With no expectations, I had submitted an article and three poems in the unpublished category. I was thrilled when my article received an honorable mention. That alone was an encouragement in an otherwise self-deprecating experience. Third and second place for poetry were announced.
How wonderful for them, I thought, as I watched each winner nearly gallop to the front to receive the coveted certificate. “And first place unpublished poetry goes to Linda Rondeau for Whispers of Hope.”
Now I was dazzled with disbelief. Surely, the announcer had called the wrong name. A friend seated next to me, poked me to get up and get my certificate. I had never won anything in my life, not even a raffle. As if in slow motion, I accepted the honor.
A few more awards were given for other categories. Then, the trophy was brought forward. A hush fell upon the exuberant audience as if angels were hovering. “The Award of Excellence goes to—
She stopped and looked at the certificate. “This is the first time this award has been given for poetry—The Award goes to Linda Rondeau for *Whispers of Hope.”
The applause was deafening. My knees seemed too weak to carry me to the podium. Angels’ wings ushered me toward my affirmation, and I felt as if God himself had smiled upon me.
*Authors note: Soon after this award, Whispers of Hope was published in a church newsletter and later in VISTA, a publication of The Wesleyan Church.
by Linda Rondeau
http://www.lindarondeau.com
posted by Linda Rondeau at 8:07 AM
1 Comments:
Linda, What a great affirmation and a great beginning to your writing career. Wishing you continued affirmations and blessings.
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