On Wednesday morning last week, I went in for my weekly unwrapping. He took off my bandages. It was the first time in three weeks I could stomach my hand. I didn’t see stars. He said it was time for rehabilitation and that I could shower with my finger, and try to bend it. (It’s very stiff.)
“Can I type?” I asked him. It’s all I wanted to know. Can I write? On the computer.
“You can try, but I don’t think you’ll be able to,” he said.
“But if I can, it won’t hurt my finger?”
“No. You can try. But I don’t think you’ll be able to.”
I thanked him. He’s been pretty nice doctor. Doesn’t believe in painkillers but he’s nice. I had to twist his arm for narcotics the first week out of surgery. I told him there was no way I was going home without something harder than Tylenol. He reluctantly acquiesced.
The kids and I went back to the house, I took off my wrap, sat down at my computer and opened the new novel I was working on before the beam incident and picked up exactly where I left off. I couldn’t type for long. But I typed.
The next day I did the same thing only I typed some more. The next day – the same.
This morning, there’s less tingling and it hurts less every day.
It’s easy to doubt who we are and very easy to doubt what we’re supposed to be doing with our lives and our time, especially if what we’re doing is risky. I have doubts about my writing daily. Sometimes hourly. It’s hard to self-promote. It’s hard to market one’s own work. I like to promote others – not myself. In this business though, I don’t have a choice. If I’m going to publish, I have to tell people about my book.
And every time my agent sends the news about another rejection I doubt what I’m doing and why I’m doing it. Shouldn’t I be doing something easier? Maybe all these rejections mean I suck. Shouldn’t this be easier if it were what I was supposed to be doing? It’s not. It’s hard. Most days those thoughts fly across my mind – I think I better do something different.
On the days when rejections are all I see, I say it out loud to myself. I’m going to quit. It’s too much.
And then one day, out of the blue, my little ring finger on my left hand gets busted up and I have to have surgery. Everything changes. The doctor said he might have to cut the tip of my finger off and all of life became as clear as a fresh summer morning after a rain fall.
Tears streamed down my face. I was lying on my back holding up my wrapped finger. “Doctor, before we go into surgery can I tell you something?” I could barely talk.
“Yes.” He paused before leaving the room.
“I’m left-handed.”
“They told me.”
“And, I’m a writer, Doctor. I write.”
“I’ll do my best,” he said.
They wheeled me back a few hours later to surgery and I got emotional, started crying. The whole thing was emotional – another country, shock, my finger hurt, my kids were crying before I left my room.
The surgery room was sterile, that damn robe barely covered my body and I felt exposed, lots of men and bright lights. They didn’t knock me out, so I could hear everything and had to work extra hard against a panic attack. I even asked the doctor for something to calm me down and he said – “No, I need you to calm yourself down, please.”
Okay, then.
Clarity. I prayed and thanked God I hadn’t lost my hand. And then asked him to save the tip of my finger. I want to write. Even if only for myself. I am a writer.
Clarity. It doesn’t matter if I’m good or bad. Not really. Not in the way I think it does. I write because I love to write. My task is to write the very best I can in the moment – the rest of it is out of my hands. (excuse the pun) Is it hard to deal with rejection? Absolutely. Am I tempted to write in a corner and bury my work? Yes. Every day. Will I? No. Because we write to share. We write to give.
There are so many things that are out of my control. There are a few within it. I get to choose what to do with the couple of hours of free time in the morning or in the evening before I go to bed. I can choose to get up early every day and write a thousand words. I can still choose to type. Nail or no nail – I can move my finger. I have a hand. W and S. Those are important letters.
Clarity. I am a writer.
Tell me about a moment of clarity.
Much Love,
Tina
Psalm 37 tells us to “Delight yourself in the LORD, and he will give you the desires of your heart.” I believe he lives his life out through us when we are in his plan for us. And that plan includes following our desires, the things that we enjoy, as we remain close and dependent upon him. It’s just not always an easy thing, and the unexpected frequently happens. You’re in his will, Tina, and he will see his plan through. We are blessed, even when we don’t always feel it. Look back and remember how he has worked in your life right up to this moment. Keep up the good work.
We miss you all.
Paul
It isn’t easy and the unexpected happens. This is true. Thank you Paul. Very much for writing. He has worked in my life. And my finger will heal … over time. We miss you too.
Much love,
Tina
wow, Tina, I actually didn’t know what you are going through. Thank you for sharing. I appreciate that very much.
Rejection, bullied, in a black hole, inside a turtles shell. That’s me, but not anymore. I learned to come out with writing my Talon story, about challenged Matica and her best friend, the condor Talon.
Matica is me in my books.
Well, Tina, thank you for pouring out your heart.
Best for everything and quick healing of your finger.
Gigi Sedlmayer
I am so glad you poured yourself out in those books. This inspires me. Thank you Gigi for sharing.
Much love,
Tina
Tina,
All I first saw was Clarity…. like you. .. sitting in a black hole. .. Looking for clarity. …i must tell that the first time I went back to church in 5 or 6 years was last Sunday. ..and as always. … We had a new preacher. .. But this one spoke and pointed directly at me that day. ..He said. …”God has a plan for you! “….AMAZINGLY…..my black hole disappeared. .. instantly. … see. .. I’ve been separated from my husband for 3 months. …issues with his anger that stems from his childhood. .. issues with being a provider for me and the children. …issues with just being a stepfather. …But i know now and believe he had a
I do think He has a plan for you! And one that requires courage and tenacity. And that no matter what happens, I love you.
Tina
Has a plan for me. .. Sorry for sending before I was done. .. Anyway. ..Tina… You know as well as I do. .. That was his way of telling you. .. Don’t give up and it clarified what you were meant to do. … If that is what you want to do. .. Then do it. .. You are a great writer… You get it honestly from our grandmother! …. and you probably do this way better than me. … Let God handle it. .. He always shows us what’s best. …I love you!
Hmmmm, clarity. Well last night when my kids went running exuberantly towards a busy road in the dark while I held our baby girl and tried to wrangle a screaming two year old who wanted a cookie….in that moment, nothing, I mean nothing else in my life mattered. It was terrifying. And I’d been too stubborn to stay home when I really should have. As I shook and cried in fear the whole 30 minute drive home, one thing was crystal clear – some out of necessity and some out of a desire for self-sufficiency, I’ve worked so hard to make much of my life work without the help or input of my husband. Thinking I was helping, alleviating pressure or stress for him, I’ve communicated I don’t need him. Like last night, going to a kid meeting that is always a lot of manage, knowing we always go together but when he couldn’t come, I went anyway.
I haven’t asked him…but I’m pretty sure he wants to feel like I need his input, value his opinion and depend on him in certain areas. There is nothing weak about this. It’s part of how marriage is supposed to work. But I think I’ve somehow forgotten that.
So glad your finger is learning to work again. So glad you can write, the world needs to hear what you have to say.
Much love,
Karissa
I wish clarity came easier and not because of something hard… I really wish.
A moment of clarity came as I ready this beautiful post. I am moved by the power of the call to write and frustrated by how easy it is to smother it. I’m thankful for your progress in healing and grateful for the insights you’ve gained and shared. Today, with God’s help, I’ll write. I will look at my ten digits and be grateful to see them lined up on my keyboard waiting for some direction from my heart and mind. Thanks, Tina. Blessings on you and the work of your hands.
It is easy to smother! That’s so true, Leona. I hope you write. I think there are people who will be blessed by what you and you alone have to say. Much love my friend.
Tina
God works in mysterious ways His wonders to perform. Your moment of clarity was a gift. Don’t ever look back.
Amen. I won’t.