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Remember in the Dark

Tracey Dyck 20 Comments

“Don’t forget in the darkness what you learned in the light.”

I first read that quote (originally by Joseph Bayly, it appears) in Circles of Seven by Bryan Davis. At least that’s where I think I read it. It was so long ago that time and frequent recollection have blurred out the quote’s origin. But the truth of it remains clear in my heart.

I’ve been grateful to live a pretty amazing twenty-two years so far. I can’t say I’ve had a hard life; all I have to do is look around and see countless people with struggles more difficult than my own. But not one of us slips through this world unscathed. We all weather storms of varying magnitudes. I, too, have faced looming shadows and endless valleys.

And it is in the midst of the darkness that we forget.

It’s easy to remember in the light. It’s easy to recall the truth of who we are and the truth of the God we follow when the reminders are as warm and near as the sun shining on our faces. But when night falls, oh, how quickly we forget. We panic, groping blindly for a corner in which to hide. We cry, fear clawing up our backs. We stumble on, wandering and getting lost in the blackness. We forget so quickly that we are children of light.

But faith is the substance of things hoped for and the evidence of things not seen. Did you get that? Faith is the substance and evidence of what you cannot see. It’s the paradox of holding an intangible thing, of perceiving what is not immediately visible. It is real. It’s not some wayward fancy. It’s not a lure-less hook tossed into the sea in the mere hopes that it will catch a fish.

It is real.

When you go to bed at night and flick off the lights, does that mean your room ceases to exist because you can no longer see it? Of course not. Sight has nothing to do with the existence of a thing. It is there regardless of whether you see it or not. But it takes a steady belief to remember that when the lights go out and your eyes fail you.

Memory is a fickle thing. Is it just me, or do you ever look at something to memorize it–be it a review sheet at school or a book cover or a name or a number or a recipe–and forget it two minutes later? “What was that again?” And you go back to check. This kind of repetition is what we need in the moment we’re plunged into shadows, when our minds go blank and the fear wells up. Go back and remember. What was it you learned in the light? What was it you saw and felt and knew? Isn’t that true today, right now, even if you don’t see it in front of you? Go back. Remember. Remember. Remember.

What was true in yesterday’s sunrise is true in today’s midnight. And it will still be true when the sun rises again.

I’m still standing here // No, I didn’t disappear // Now the lights are on // See, I was never gone

(Never Gone by Colton Dixon)

When He feels far away, He is near, as close as He’s ever been. When everything crumbles around you, there is a rock beneath your feet. When confusion clouds your mind, you will hear a voice behind you saying, “This is the way; walk in it.”

“Your word is a lamp for my steps; it lights the path before me.”

(Psalm 119:105)

The thing is, you can see that light if you choose to. It’s on a different frequency than the physical light around you, and sometimes it takes a focused effort on your part to switch to that frequency, to see with eyes of faith. But it’s there, and it’s real. The unseen really is more real than what is seen.

So today, dear soul, wherever you are and however dark it may be, never ever ever EVER forget what you have learned in the light. Hold it close to your heart. That candle will erupt into a torch, and then a burning wildfire, before long.

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What Lies on the Horizon

Tracey Dyck 35 Comments

This new year is something I’ve been thinking about a lot. Not just in terms of goals and resolutions, but in terms of where my heart is and what lies on the horizon. And it’s finally time to catch some of those whirring, buzzing, humming fragments of thoughts. Time to string them together into something to share with you, because I’m a firm believer in the strength we can find in each other’s journeys. I wouldn’t blog if I didn’t think that somehow, some way, the tangling threads of our stories matter to each other.

Last January, I set some lofty goals, writing-wise. (You can see them in detail HERE, if you’re so inclined.) Another thing in which I am a believer is the value of looking forward to set goals, and looking back to see how far you’ve come. So before we look ahead, let’s pause and turn around for a moment.

2017 goals

Finish the first draft of The Prophet’s Key. Nope. Didn’t make it. But I added 17,000 words to the rewrite I’d started in 2016, bringing the total word count up to 100k. I ground to a halt there, realizing just how bloated and huge the story was becoming. A course correction was needed, but at that point, leadership college was ramping up like crazy and I decided to put the project aside.


Began expanding The Brightest Thread into a novel. Check!


Go to Realm Makers. Another check! That was an incredible dream come true, one I hope to see come true again this summer.


Write, edit, and submit a story for Rooglewood Press’s contest. Surprisingly, check again. Mirrors Never Lie is on some judge’s desk right now, I imagine.


Complete the first draft of The Brightest Thread and do a round or two of edits so that it’s poised to move forward (aka maybe get published) in 2018. First draft–check. A round or two-ish of edits earns another check. And is the novel “poised to move forward” now? I’d say it’s poised to move into another round of edits, that’s for sure, and then . . . well, we’ll get to that in a minute.


Finish The Creative Way writing course by Ted Dekker. Um . . . no. This kept getting pushed back due to one reason or another, and I still have a handful of lessons to complete.


Possibly begin querying agents for TBT. I dipped my toes in the water by pitching it at the Realm Makers conference, but subsequently sent it to beta readers, knowing the novel needed more work. So querying didn’t happen last year.

All in all, four out of seven, plus some progress on a couple of uncompleted goals, isn’t bad!
Here’s where I would turn my hopeful attention toward this year’s list of aspirations . . . But again, we’ll get to that soon.
The past two Januarys, I’ve set aggressive timelines for my writing goals. And there is a place for those kinds of plans. I don’t regret pushing myself past my limits. Yes, I danced on the edge of burnout some weeks, but I learned valuable lessons about pacing myself, working hard, writing when the inspiration is gone, working under deadlines, juggling responsibilities, and what healthy (and unhealthy) creative practices look like. It was great!
But this year, I’ve realized I need to recognize what season of life I’m in. I am a student. And I won’t be in school forever, so rather than resist the demanding schedule and the responsibilities, I want to thrive. That means balance. That means reframing school from a burden into a passion. That means taking care of myself by carving out pleasure reading and making sure I get enough sleep. That means soaking in time with family and saying yes to friends when I can (instead of no, sorry, I’m busy, come back when I graduate).
But the biggest dream I have for 2018, the one thing that I am finally allowing to overshadow everything else . . . is my friendship with God.
It’s a little crazy, how even a year of Bible/leadership college didn’t cause me to become more intentional about spending time with Him. I read my Bible every morning because we were given class time for it–which was so good, don’t get me wrong–but the habit somehow didn’t transfer to my home life. In fact, ever since leaving high school and wading into the big, wide world of adulthood, I feel like my devotion time has been irregular.
But busyness is a lousy excuse. (And please, before I go further, don’t take this as a guilt trip for yourself! I simply want to be honest with what’s been going through my head lately!) I am a quester, a pursuer, a dreamer, and a doer by nature. Give me a goal, and I will plot, list, track, and work my way toward it, for better or for worse. (This is not always a positive, guys.) But being a doer is little good if I’m not doing the right things in the right order. If I can devote myself to a novel I’m writing and show up day after day even if the well runs dry, can’t I put the same energy into flipping open my Bible every day?
Yet this is about more than doing–although I do want to redirect that trait–this is about a relationship.
This is about Jesus being the first name on my lips in the morning and the last thought before I fall asleep.
This is about a dialogue with my Creator, the Lover of my soul.
This is about looking for Him in the everyday moments.
This is about being aware that He is here, always, and even if emotions run their own course I am never cut off from His love.
This is about a single-minded, single-hearted pursuit.
This is about seeking one kingdom above all others, and yet–
I don’t know how to get there. I want to, badly, but it’s not something you work up on your own or even work towards at all. It’s less about my hands doing something, and more about my heart doing something. The only labor involved is that of laboring to “enter into that rest.”
What I know right now is that every time I have hungered for more of God and cried out for a deeper knowing of Him, He has responded. And every time, all it took was asking . . . and then putting one foot in front of the other with my eyes open for an answer. Another thing I know right now is that I miss digging into the Word.

And those two things I know for sure? They’re interconnected.
So my planning/listing/doing side is happy to have discovered a really cool Bible reading plan in the back of my new copy of The Voice translation. It’s a plan that takes me slowly through the Bible in three years instead of one. That’s exactly what I need right now, just a quiet, thoughtful walk through Scripture. It’s not even chronological–in the past two weeks, I’ve dipped in and out of Genesis, Job, Psalms, and Proverbs. This plan takes up only 40 weeks a year, leaving time to investigate some suggested readings for Easter and Advent. So it’s not a high pressure thing, and so far I’m loving it.
I’m journaling as I go, just jotting down whatever means something to me today, rather than trying to encompass everything as if I’m writing a scholarly essay. I’m rediscovering glimpses of this great narrative God has been weaving throughout history, and I’m stumbling upon little bits of it that are woven into my own life today.
Am I a changed person? Am I on some spiritual mountain right now? No. But this is slowly, surely being built into a habit, and I hope that the more I do it, the more it will pervade my thoughts and attitudes throughout the day.
It’s a simple thing: seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things–all these dreams and lists and goals–will be added to you. This year, I want to actually try that, and not just fool myself into thinking I’m already doing it.
If you’re anticipating some grandiose announcement of a hiatus, that’s not coming! I’m not scrapping anything entirely, just shifting some priorities around. Like I said, I need to give myself room to enjoy my school studies and get back into a regular daily time with God.
So for the next few months, writing is taking a backseat. It’s not out of the car entirely, but it’s not the driver right now. Here’s what I’m aiming for:
January-April: Slowly start organizing the beta feedback on The Brightest Thread. Possibly start working on a secret project I hinted at a couple months ago, which is still stewing in my mind. Possibly try my hand at some flash fiction to submit to magazines and whatnot. I’m giving myself the freedom to be sporadic and to take time off whenever needed. This is going to be playtime, not work time.
May-August: Edit The Brightest Thread. Assemble a list of literary agents and actually start querying. Attend Realm Makers in St. Louis (hopefully!!!) and pitch TBT again there. Finish The Creative Way course. Get that secret project off the ground for real. Maybe even make some tweaks to the blog to spiff it up and make it look more professional. It’ll be summer, which means there will be time to power through some goals!
September-December: Totally depends on how the previous goals are going. Likely, I’ll continue querying TBT, working on the secret project, and who knows? I might even be in a good spot to start casually planning my next novel. I’ll be back in school, so I may ease off a bit again, though.

that’s our heart-to-heart for today, friends.

I kind of hesitated to talk about the deep stuff, because I know things like prayer and devotions are highly personal (and I’ve been guilt-tripped by well-meaning writers and bloggers before, which I wanted to avoid here), and maybe you’re not into that to begin with . . . But I think it’s a good and healthy thing to be honest with each other. We’ve all been through dry spells, all struggled to form good habits in this area. And I couldn’t talk about my writing goals without talking about why my approach is different this year.

What are YOU aiming for and dreaming about for 2018? Big or small, deep or more superficial, I’d love to hear it!

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Wonder in the Ordinary

Tracey Dyck 22 Comments
[image via Pinterest; graphic mine]

I’ve been moving too fast to think much about Christmas–I mean really think about it, settle into the Scriptures, stare out the snowy window, and journal whatever comes to mind. I plan to make time for that soon. In the meantime, though, a single thought has nestled into my heart. A tiny thought. Not a new thought or flashy thought, just a true one. In fact, this little thought starts with a single word:

ordinary

After being repeated for millennia, the Christmas story is sometimes glossed over like a too-beautiful-to-touch trinket we bring out once a year to place on a shelf where we can admire it from afar. At times I forget how very humble, tangible, and imperfect it all was. How very ordinary.

Mary, an ordinary young woman. She was probably going about her wedding preparations like any other fiancée at the time would have done. Maybe she was planning the feast or washing dishes or sweeping the floor when an angel interrupted her ordinary day and dropped life-shattering news into her lap.

Joseph, an ordinary young man. Also preparing for his upcoming wedding. Startled by Mary’s news that she was pregnant, of all outrageous things. And then an ordinary night gave way to a decidedly extraordinary vision confirming Mary’s words.

A census. A dusty travel, uncomfortable and inconvenient. (Surely we’ve all been there? Road-weary and impatient and wanting nothing more than a meal and a familiar bed?)

A stable with ordinary animals, ordinary stink, ordinary cold. Nothing special about it at all, except for the baby born inside.

Shepherds–oh, the shepherds. I’ve always been fascinated by them most of all. These men weren’t all that high on the social ladder. I don’t imagine they made much money at their jobs. Just think–long hours out in the elements. Smelly, bleating sheep all around. Sore feet in worn sandals. Only the stars above their heads as they stared blearily into the darkness, trying to stay awake and watch for predators. I’m sure this particular nightly watch looked and felt and smelled much like any other, with the same old frustrations, little pleasures, and predictable routine. It was an ordinary night. Perhaps boring. Quite likely unremarkable.

That is, until the heavens exploded with light and song and the kind of news that drives you to your knees.

Emmanuel–God with us.

After half a millennia of utter silence between God and man, even the staunchest believer might have wondered if the faith of their history was little more than a fairy tale, or if God was ever planning to speak again. Maybe He’d moved on. Lost interest. Shut mankind out. Forgotten the rescue He promised.

But no, not even close. On this ordinary night, above an ordinary field, an indescribable army of angels sang of the long-awaited Answer.

I have to smile at what the first angel announcer said: “You will know you have found Him when you see a baby, wrapped in a blanket, lying in a feeding trough.” (Luke 2:12, the Voice)

He didn’t announce a king or conquering warrior. He didn’t point the way toward a coronation ceremony or a battlefield or a palace or even a busy corner of the city.

The angel sent the shepherds to look for an inconspicuous newborn, wrapped in a definitely not new blanket, sleeping in a rough-hewn, straw-filled feeding trough. A kid in a barn. That was Jesus: fresh from heaven, expelled into an ordinary, messed up world fighting to hold onto hope.

And that’s when the ordinary was never the same again.

This Christmas might not be anything special for you this year. It might look the same as it’s always been. Maybe it looks a little gloomy this time around. Maybe it’s good and happy. Whatever the case, chances are it’s a fairly ordinary Christmas. But keep your eyes open for a glimmer of the extraordinary–a glimpse of majesty, a flicker of awe-inspiring wonder–nestled in amongst the trimming of just another day.

Because the ordinary is exactly where you’re living right now, and it’s exactly where Jesus loves to meet you.


Merry Christmas, dear souls! He is God with us indeed.


P.S. Currently listening to Brandon Heath’s The Night Before Christmas, which fits pretty nicely. I won’t be active online for the next couple of days, but afterwards I’ll be back to reply to comments!

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What I’m Looking & Listening For

Tracey Dyck 24 Comments

“Give thanks to God no matter what circumstances you find yourself in.” (1 Thessalonians 5:18a)

Can I be completely honest with you? Canadian Thanksgiving is coming on Monday, and while I am relieved and grateful for a long weekend . . . today I’m not feeling it. Holidays are supposed to bring warm fuzzy feelings, but sometimes we’re just too tired or frazzled or upset or sad to get in the spirit.

I’m not all of those things, although I’ve had a busy couple of weeks with frustratingly long hours of homework. My creative soul feels stifled. My to-do list doesn’t seem to be getting any shorter.

But that’s just it–thankfulness is not about feelings. In this social media age where all we see are the highlight reels of people’s lives, it’s easy to think everyone else is so much happier than we are. Yet neither life nor emotions are static; they’re constantly changing like the seasons. And the truth is that if I can find reasons to complain, I can find at least as many reasons to rejoice.

To remind myself, here’s a brief list. (Perhaps it will remind you, too, of the good things in life.)

***
[Pinterest]
I have a wonderful, fun, supportive family who loves me.
I have friends checking in on me and praying for me.
I get to walk to school each day, enjoying the crisp air of autumn mornings.
I can still make money at my job despite going to school full-time.
There’s a stack of good books on my desk almost two feet high, all waiting to be read.
I’ve been in college only six weeks, and already I understand how to make an income statement, what factors change supply and demand, how to write memos, how to calculate equivalent payments of compound interest, all kinds of things that Microsoft Word can do, and how business is all about creating value for customers.
I have an amazing church that makes every Sunday morning feel like coming home.
I’m healthy.
I have opportunities every day to laugh.
Great movies are a thing.
So is good music, such as:
Reckless Love by Cory Asbury (a long one, but so, so good)
Deeper by SVRCINA (thanks to Katie Grace for introducing me to this singer)
Clap Your Hands by Owl City (it’s about golf? but it’s really fun)
Something in the Water by Tim Neufeld (this cover never fails to make me happy)
I Need Thee Every Hour by Anthem Lights (their entire Hymns album is so peaceful)
I haven’t run out of things to write about, and after a week of no writing, Snow White is waiting for me to pen the next part of her adventure.
I get to connect with faraway friends through the internet and snail mail.
The sun rises.
Seeing the full moon shining over the harvested fields makes me want to shut my car headlights off and stare for a while.
Watercolor pencils are magical.
So is pumpkin pie.
Dreams aren’t out of reach–I’m on my way, and you know, the days of small beginnings are actually exciting when I stop and climb to a new vantage point.
It’s sweater weather.
Tea. (What else needs to be said about that?)
The blue jays have returned.
Asking customers at work what their plans are for Thanksgiving transforms mediocre small talk into real conversations and real smiles.
Journaling late at night when my brain is tired and filters are down is relaxing.
God is there. Quietly faithful. The same today as He was yesterday. The same as He will be tomorrow.
***
Sometimes we need to stop, breathe, and consciously think of all the things we have to be grateful for. And to be completely honest with you again–after writing this list, I feel a lot lighter. Happy Thanksgiving!


What are you thankful for today?

[Pinterest]
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