Things Worth Writing

They say authors should write what they know. Though it seems common enough to me, my life is a story to God. So what parts are worth the writing? 

On my trip to Philadelphia with my mom in October, we visited Benjamin Franklin's print shop. No white-out back then. No word processors or Word software. No delete button. Every piece of paper was precious, every word weighed for its worth.

Franklin Court Printing Office & Bindery

Philadelphia, PA

Benjamin Franklin said:"If you wou'd not be forgotten as soon as you are dead and rotten, either write things worth reading, or do things worth the writing."Poor Richard's Almanack, 1738.

Though my tagline is Mennonite Girl Without a Bonnet, I was reminded tonight of the diversity that I grew up with. My mother was raised conservative Mennonite, but my father was never "churched" until his probation officer required it as part of his penance as a teen.

You could say my parent's life long love affair is literally the stuff of novels----Conservative girl meets Americana bad boy. But often truth is stranger than fiction, and often I've been glad of it. 

Tonight I was reminded, that as much of my growing up identity was grounded in the Mennonite faith, as it was being a tomboy who loved to go coon huntin' with her Dad and the gang.

My cousin stopped by tonight to run his coon dogs behind our house in our woods. A flash from my past.

When I wasn't spending time dreaming I was Laura Ingalls--I was busy hunting with dad, watching the gang tan hides in the garage, raising coon dogs--dreaming I was Little Ann and my dog was Old Dan.

I mean--I have special skills no one knows about, right?

I know how to walk through a woods and not get slapped in the face with twigs that just spring loaded off dad's shoulders and aimed at me on eye level. I know the sound a bawling walker dog makes when he's treed a coon. I know the smell of the beagle club and the all night championships when we waited to see if Timber made Grand Night Champion, waking to a room so full of smoke it made me nauseated. I know how to show a coon dog and clean a kennel. I know that you can't tip over dad's battery pack for his headlight, or battery acid would eat a hole in the carpet.

But above all, I've known the enduring truth--that no matter how diverse our paths and our pasts--God is an author who writes incredible stories--of love and forgiveness, stories where second hand lions have a placed called home. 

I love you Dad.

So tell your stories. They may seem common to you, but your Author is uncommon and He tells amazing stories...