If I’ve learned anything in life, it’s that everything is ordered by the timing of a powerful internal and eternal clock. We, being impatient creatures, often find ourselves wresting against this powerful force, whereas nature, and animals within her realm, live in harmonious and peaceful acceptance of this sync and rhythm of life. The geyser, Old Faithful, operates under this law of nature, erupting every hour on the hour. Even the smallest butterfly knows when it’s time to head south to a mountain in Mexico for the winter. They are keenly in tune with their internal clock. Bears know when it’s time to find their cave and hibernate. Salmon know when it’s time to fight the current and swim upstream. Small, white blossoms know when it’s time to burst through the cracks of our walkway announcing the arrival of a new season. Even their timing is perfect.
Yes,” there is a time for everything and a season for every activity under heaven.” (Ecclesiastes 3:1) There is a time to keep and a time to throw away. In the past several years I have found myself in the season of “throwing away and casting out.” It was during one of these days of sorting through and casting out that I came across a storage bin of family momentos. That was a day of epiphany for me. It was a sudden revelation of exactly what my book was to be about. I knew I was called to write a book, but I had been struggling with direction. Now I knew. There in front of me, neatly stored away, for just the right timing, was a treasure trove of old family photos, letters, newspaper and magazine articles, missions pamphlets about my parents’ missionary work in Peru, and various books and booklets with a wealth of information. I instinctively knew in that moment that I was to take this unorganized collection of information and put it into a book. There was no doubt in my mind. It was as if some unseen hand had gathered these materials together for me and neatly packed them away for this very day, this beginning of a season for writing.
In the excitement of receiving this revelation, I took the bin of stored materials, scattered them across the dining room table in a heap, and wondered where and how I would ever begin. There was no rhyme nor reason to the bits and pieces and I quickly found myself overwhelmed at the challenge before me. No one ever warned me how difficult it would be to begin writing a book. I sat staring at this vast assortment on the table as if I were looking at a thousand-piece puzzle. Little by little, bit by bit, and piece by painstaking piece, I began weaving the story of my family; my father, my mother and my brother Ken.
Within a year’s time I had managed to finish the first rough draft of my manuscript. It was not an easy task, as at the very same time I was facing the painful reality that my mother would soon be departing this life. How I wished I could have had her insights into this project. As it was, I spilled many tears along the way. There were times I had to stop writing and just have a good cry. My family are all in heaven now, and I am left to tell their story.
I remember the day when I typed the final words to the final chapter: Let go and let God. I sat back rather pleased with myself. I thought I had completed what I had been called to do. I stood up and walked over to the window, still musing about my accomplishment. As I stood gazing out the window, I looked down and saw a stone sitting on the windowsill embedded with the words Let go and let God. I knew it was no coincidence. Only seconds before, I had typed those very words. That message was not to be part of my book. That message was meant for me! I would have been thrilled to have had my book published overnight, impatient human creature that I am. However, the message was clear. God still had something He wanted to add to the story, and I needed to wait. So, my manuscript sat on the shelf for over a year, waiting for God’s appointed time. I knew something was going on behind the scene, and someday it would be revealed to me.
Then came the day that I received some exciting news. Plans were being made to celebrate the 100th anniversary of the Assemblies of God in Peru in October of 2019. The invitation had gone out to all the former and present-day missionaries and missionary kids to attend and be part of the celebration. I instinctively knew, God willing, that I would be making that trip. This was the missing link I needed to give my book the closure I had been desperately seeking.
I can see how I am coming full circle. I have gone through a season of barrenness, a season of inspiration, growth and productivity, and now the season of harvest has arrived. My inner clock is calling me south, back to the mountains of Peru.