Pouring Out

 

First of all, apologies for missing my slot last month. It actually took me more than a week to realise we had passed the 30^th… The holidays have been good, and filled and manic and painful, but I have learned a few interesting things which I would love to share with you.

Holidays have been trying and exhausting, although the fruits and blessings afterwards have always made them worthwhile. Going anywhere with four children who are all dysregulated in different ways for the duration is draining, but afterwards, they invariably look back with fond memories.

This year, it was no different, although now they’re bigger, the fallout felt bigger too. Or maybe I’m just getting old! The Lake District was gorgeous as it was last year. The weather was beautiful, the caravan spacious and comfortable, and Goldie had a wonderful time swimming every day as labs do, but the weeks felt beyond hard.

I went for a long walk with Goldie one day. I had guessed from the map and comments about the walk that it would be about 7 miles. It turned out to be longer than that, and Richard and the kids went to the arranged pick-up point earlier than arranged, so I was thrilled to have a great excuse to cut the walk short, and finished at ten miles, which was more than I’d planned anyway.

This holiday I learned a thing or two that will help with my writing as well, once I can arrange my thoughts and words again. I learned that sometimes we have to adjust our expectations and hopes. Adoption for us has meant pouring into and pouring out, and giving and blessing. It’s giving up dreams of having a two-way relationship. It’s accepting that there will be a lot of blessings in disguise coming our way. It’s giving and supporting, knowing that it won’t be accepted. It’s practising unconditional love without it being reciprocated. At least not in wished-for ways.

It's the long hike that is painful and a little futile (I only walk because Goldie loves it so much!), but the rewards are views and vistas shared only with a labrador looking for squirrels or bunnies. It’s gasping at God’s power and glory portrayed in nature, with a lab standing patiently nearby, hoping we’ll walk a little further. It’s wondering how much further, and how much longer we can keep going, then looking back and seeing the little lake surprisingly far behind us.

So when writing feels hard, or even a little pointless, pour out anyway. If it feels you're walking alone, write anyway, and be blessed by it. When it feels you’re just giving and writing without a good return, write anyway. Blessings will come, even if they’re unexpected or sometimes unwished for. We do everything as unto the Lord, and He will be with us, carrying us, lifting us on wings like eagles. Enjoy the views, the beauty of the Lord in everything you do this week!

Maressa Mortimer is Dutch but lives in the beautiful Cotswolds, England with her husband and four (adopted) children. Maressa is a homeschool mum as well as a pastor’s wife, so her writing has to be done in the evening when peace and quiet descend on the house once more. She loves writing Christian fiction, as it’s a great way to explore faith in daily life. Maressa is part of a special Dystopian book group online, which you can find here: https://reamstories.com/faith-based-ya-dystopian/.

Her debut novel, Sapphire Beach, was published in December 2019, and her first self published novel, Walled City, came out in December 2020, followed by Viking Ferry, a novella. Beyond the Hills is the second book in the Elabi Chronicles, and was released in 2021, followed by stand-alone novel Burrowed, released in 2022. The third book in the Elabi Chronicles, Downstream, has just been released. All of Maressa’s books are available from her website, www.vicarioushome.com, Amazon or local bookshops.