My friend, Shelia Mullican, gave me a birthday gift on Sunday. She gave me a copy of Walking On Water: Reflections on Faith and Art, by Madeleine L’Engle. I had never heard of it. Of course I have heard of Madeleine L’Engle. She’s right up there with C.S. Lewis. But, I must confess, I have never read A Wrinkle In Time. I tried, back in the sixth or seventh grade, but could never get into it. Everyone in my family loved it. They will tell you it’s still one of their all-time favorites.
For some reason I have always had a difficult time reading fantasy. Sometimes I wonder if I’m not handicapped when it comes to imagination. I’m more of a concrete person. On the Myers-Briggs profile I’m a strong S—Sensing. Creative and imaginative I’m not so much. I tend to look at life literally. But there is something in me that knows I would love Madelenine L’Engle’s books if I would just let go and let her take me where I could never go by myself. Unlike most of you Walking on Water will be my first real introduction to her. And it’s not fantasy. It’s just her, the deepest parts of her. I can’t wait. I know I’m about to make a very dear friend.
My husband has encouraged me to write. And the fact that he is in the publishing business causes me to take his encouragement seriously—though I feel completely inadequate when I give it a try. I do not enjoy the process of writing. Occasionally, I like having written. I have many half-finished blog posts waiting in “the wings,” but I keep getting stuck.
I want to like writing. I want to push through the out-of-my-comfort-zone feeling. I want to know what it’s like to stop analyzing every word, and criticizing every thought and just let go. Nicole Nordeman, in the Introduction to Walking On Water, says that L’Engle helped her “remember how to slow down, how to let go, how to wake up to the voice of the Creator in [her].” Are we all meant to hear that voice and become “co-creators” on some level?
Now somehow this book has landed in your hands. … Maybe, like me, one of your friends recommended it because for the fifteenth day in a row you’ve sat staring at an empty canvas, or a lump of clay on your wheel, or a blank piece of paper on your piano, and you’re stuck. …
Be encouraged. Close your eyes and let go. Remember, as Peter did, what it felt like when nothing was sustaining you in the small space between your feet and those daunting waves but the power of an unrelenting Love.
And walk on.
Thank you, Shelia. I’m walking into the pages. I feel as though I’m entering into a mystical land full of secret treasures, and I do love treasure hunting. But I’m a little scared.