nanowrimo.

I am going to write a novel in November 2013.

But ten minutes ago, I realized how terrified this makes me.

I don't know if I can even do it. I have spent about three hours today trying to find a way to start, and I have nothing. I ran through everything I'd heard about writing. I remembered C.S. Lewis describing the picture he'd had in his head since he was 14, that of a faun in a snowy wood with a red scarf, an umbrella, and some packages, which became The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. But I couldn't find any pictures in my head. I read about Flannery O'Connor looking at a blank piece of paper for upwards of three hours until an idea came to her. But I don't know that I have three hours to spare.

Ten minutes ago, I told my roommate K that I was doing NaNoWriMo, but the problem was that I couldn't come up with a story idea and I was super scared. And I sat at our kitchen table with tears running down my face while she was probably wondering whether or not I'd lost all my marbles.

What I didn't elaborate on, what I'm realizing now, is that if I try this and I fail, it means I can't write. It means my dream of being a writer is dead. It means that I have nothing to tell anyone. It means I am a failure in the most intense sense of the word.

Why is writing a story suddenly so hard? As a girl, I had so many story ideas bubbling up inside of me, even though many of them were caricatures or copycats of my favorite books (the Chronicles of Narnia and the Redwall series were my two great inspirations). Where did all my ideas go? In a way, I feel more like a child, yet more like an adult, than I've ever felt before: a child in the sense that I literally feel lost and don't know how to start writing, but an adult in the sense that my freedom to dream and play and just try something feels totally hampered and hemmed in.

Fortunately, I have in my lap Anne Lamott's book Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life. She just reminded me that "good writing is about telling the truth." I think I can do that. I will find something to write about. I know I will. But I think I have to allow it to be less than inspired. And just do it. Because in the end, it will not really matter if I've created something "good" or not, and I have a hunch that it won't really mean I'm a failure at life if it's terrible stuff. What it will mean is that I finished a novel. I FINISHED A NOVEL. That sounds good to me.

So excuse me, because now I'm going to go tell a story.

why i love serving communion.

It's been four years since I last blogged.

Three years of teaching literature, grammar, and writing to seventh graders.

Now I've started two years of graduate school, condensed into one.

One year of freedom from the stress of working.

I'm finally ready to write again. And I'll start with something I've been wanting to write about for a long time: serving communion at my church.

A little background before I begin. At my church, members can volunteer to serve communion to the rest of the church body at any service. You don't have to be anything other than a member to serve, which means married couples, single people, men, women, leaders, and laypeople are all equally qualified. When the pastor finishes his prayer at the end of his sermon, servicegoers lift their heads and open their eyes to see a pair of servers waiting for them with bread, wine, and grape juice (for those with sensitive consciences) in hand. The band begins to play, and then people form a line toward the servers.  They tear off a piece of bread, dip it in either the wine or the juice, and eat it while heading back to their seats. Within one to two songs, everyone has been served, and then the servers head back to the front of the church, where they take turns serving each other before returning to their own seats.

It may sound simple. It may sound routine. But my experiences serving communion have been anything but that.

I love serving communion because it puts me in awe of the extent of God's saving grace. I'm always amazed at the rich variety of people I see coming toward me in the communion line. It reminds me that God calls people from all walks of life, all personal histories, all ages, all races, all ethnicities, all corners of the world, to Himself. It reminds me that these people are my brothers and sisters in Christ, people with whom I may have much in common or nothing at all, made relatives by sharing the same belief in the same Savior (whom we all call Brother as well as Lord).

I love serving communion because I am reminded of the significance of the symbols. If I'm holding a loaf of French bread wrapped in a scarlet napkin, I say, "The body of Christ, broken for you." If I'm holding the two cups, a glass one filled with juice and a stoneware one filled with wine, I say, "The blood of Christ, shed for you." People react to these words in various ways. Sometimes their eyes light up and the corners of their mouths draw up in a smile, joy shining in their faces. Sometimes tears pool as a wave of heartbroken gratitude breaks over their countenances. Sometimes their faces are impassive and no one but God knows what they're feeling inside. All of their reactions touch something deep in my spirit because I know in these moments that I'm not serving these people mere bread or mere liquid. What I'm offering to them, and what they are taking, is a reminder that their sins have been forgiven, that they are covered by grace, that a Savior knows them by name, and that they know Him. What a powerful opportunity to serve my brothers and sisters by reminding them of the deep truth behind the simple act they are performing.

I love serving communion because I get to see people as they really are - and myself as I really am. No matter who comes up to me, whether I know them personally or not, there is one thing that each of them have in common with me. We are all sinners. Each of us once lived desperately trying to fill our empty souls with some person or thing until salvation came and made us free. Although we are free in our spirit through Jesus Christ, we are still bound in our flesh to our sin, and so we observe the Lord's Supper, eating the bread and drinking the wine or juice, to remind us of our great need and His great provision. 

Every Christian should take the opportunity to hold out the bread and wine or juice to their fellow Christians. Not only is it an opportunity to serve others by reminding them to look to Christ, it is a chance to reorient yourself back to Him as well. It may even leave you with the same reflection that John Newton, the author of the hymn "Amazing Grace," had at the end of his life:

"...two things I remember: I am a great sinner and Christ is a great Savior."