Tuesday, July 12, 2005

Where Two Worlds Collide




It’s Tricia again, jumping in until our friends get back from ICRS. Like Barb, I was unable to attend this year. I instead chose to stay home and work on my next novel set in World War II. Picture this . . . an gutsy female war correspondent, a B-17 navigator, and a young woman impregnated by her Nazi lover and sent away to a home for other young women in her condition. Eventually their stories will intersect. In fact, that’s the part I’m currently working on!

The odd thing about writing fiction (which I’m sure the other writers will agree) is the challenge of living in two worlds at once. Part of the day I’m here, in Montana. It’s summer and my three kids are enjoying the break from school. I cook dinner, take my dog on walks, cuddle with my husband on the front porch swing, and chat with friends on the phone while drinking my favorite double-shot, sugar-free mocha.

My other world is one I created in my mind. In that world, I’m currently in England. I’m in the air with bomber crews as they attempt to damage the Nazi oil refineries in hopes of crippling the German war machine. Bullets are flying. Enemy planes are swooping out of the air. Men are crying out for God’s mercy. Whew.

So, I’m sure you can imagine what a challenge it is. “Yes, Nathan, I’ll make you a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, but can you wait until my bomber safely lands on friendly soil?”

Then again, there is also a place where both of these worlds meet . . . and that is in my heart.

When one of my good friends, Kathy, read my first novel From Dust and Ashes she wrote me and said, “That book was so much of your story. I felt it was you within those pages.”

Huh? In that book, I was writing about a pregnant Nazi wife, abandoned by her husband, and feeling guilty for what she’d witnessed inside the concentration camps. Yet her life is transformed by an American solider who liberates the prisoners and gives her love and hope.

Pregnant.
Abandoned.
Feeling guilty.
Rescued by a liberator.

Yeah, I guess it was my story after all!

You see, I can write about concentration camps and about those chained in darkness, because I’ve been rescued in the same way. Not physically, but spiritually.

Psalms 102:19-20 says, “Tell them the Lord looked down from his heavenly sanctuary. He looked to the earth from heaven to hear the groans of the prisoners, to release those condemned to die.”

When I was pregnant, abandoned, guilty (you get the picture) . . . well, those were the darkest days of my life. Yet, I praise Jesus my liberator. Like the American soldiers who opened the gates to the concentration camps—Jesus heard my groans and saw that I was condemned to die. Jesus rescued me from the darkness, swinging wide the gates, and releasing me from my death sentence.

So, I guess for me writing is not just escaping into a world that happened 60 years ago—one that I recreate in my mind. It’s creating a story where I can share His story. Not with preaching or a three-point sermon, but by showing how lives are changed by liberation and love.

So today, try to consider how His story has affected the story of your life.

And I’ll think of you as my characters overcome obstacles and save the day!

2 comments:

Samantha said...

I've noticed that in what I write (nothing big.. stories and whatnot for Lit) I express myself best when I can pretend it's not me.. if that makes sense.

Oh yeah. and Barb.. some good summer reads for me have been Pitch Black and Torch Red in the True Colors series. Of course those, I can't leave out your books (I sersiously loved them and was disappointed when the ended cause I had to get out of the pool and get another one) Screwtape Letters is also a must read. Oh yeah- have you heard of Blue Like Jazz, it's a Christian read, and my friends mom bought it.. she's gonna let me borrow it when she's done, but it's really humourous from what I read and talks about passion. I could go into it, but this comment is long.

And to you two- take care!

Samantha

T. Suzanne Eller said...

Love this, Tricia.

Suz