From Idea to Outline

                                                        South African Bible Study Group

It’s only footballers and movie stars who write about their lives, isn’t it? I’ve often toyed with the idea of writing my autobiography, but wondered if there is enough to interest others? Then I discovered the genre of memoir. Um, yes, working to a theme could be exciting.

But you know how life is and I just don’t mean the writer’s life. I mean everybody’s. Stuff gets in the way. So yes, I started a few courses, who is my audience, ten easy steps, and you too can do it. Except steps have never been my road to success. I can’t even cope with the NHS target of 10,000. Is that per day or month? I had to admit I couldn’t do it until …..

Our fellowship group asked me to share how I became an ordained minister in the Uniting Presbyterian Church of Southern Africa. Yes, it really is called that. Well, the talk seemed easy until the day arrived and I thought more deeply about it. What motivated me? How did I discern a call on my life? It sounds all very high-minded. When did it all start? Did they really want a blow-by-blow account? How is the South African system different? How did my husband cope? No, he isn’t a minister. What did they ask me in the interviews? Does that matter?

It was fun going through the old photos, thinking about the barriers and difficulties and the joys. Were there any joys? This was a patriarchal apartheid society in the 1980s and 90s. Hadn’t I better write something down instead of just musing over the photos? I gained my love of photography from my mother, so the evidence was all there. Twenty-three years of it.

Fellowship Tuesday arrived, and six enthusiastic faces greeted me. How could they be so interested in my life? As I spoke, I realised this was my audience, enthusiastic women in their thirties and forties (one husband was there, no comment).

As I mentioned the scriptures which had encouraged me, there were audible approval noises. The mention of miracles and the Lord’s faithfulness produced gasps and sighs. Surprisingly, these friends snatched the old photos eagerly and examined them, to my amazement. It reminded me of those years in the 70s when folk would pour over someone else’s holiday snaps. Were they pretending? The enthusiastic fight to grab the photo of my blended family said it all. They were genuinely interested.

                                        My blended family: his three, my one and one of ours

One and a half hours breezed by but working on the maxim that it is better to leave the table before you are full, I called a halt. The number of years covered was twenty-three and the years left to cover was also twenty-three. Ah, the magic of numbers. That fitted so conveniently with two books. The third could cover my writing life. It wouldn’t need miracles and conquered obstacles because by then I would be famous. A trilogy!

Now my chronological ducks are in a row, I can do that modern thing of mixing up the time sequences. Two flash forwards and one fill-in of backstory and a pinch of reflective wisdom in the present sounds about right. My outline is done.

My title for this memoir could be “A Clown’s eye view of God’s faithfulness. Well, just a working title.

 

My first Christian holiday club for children 1978

                                                                  I'm the clown on the left