The importance of a voice

These last two weeks, I actually sensed God's desire for me to open up more about my personal life. I've written about my struggle in telling the whole truth in the memoir I recently finished writing, and about the severity of my experience with post-adoption depression after we brought our daughter Evangeline home from Ukraine. 

A little bit of electricity zapped my fingertips as I hit the publish tab on both posts. What would people think if I put myself out there? I should just keep these things to myself.

This year, in addition to therapy and after school activities and church and writing and querying agents for my book, I've also had the privilege to speak to a handful of MOPS groups in the Chicago land area. I talk about the birth of my daughter in the former Soviet Union and her diagnosis of Down syndrome and about the grief that ensued for almost a year over the loss of the child I expected. I have other presentations about how to teach our kids to be good friends to those around us with special needs, and about loss and grief in motherhood. 

Every time I have a presentation, there is a part of me that is afraid of judgement. Maybe I shouldn't share all of me. Maybe I should just share the good Christian/ pastor's wife/ missionary parts of me and tuck away the other parts: the mom who didn't want her child. The mom who went to a bottle of Chardonnay instead of to the Lord. The mom who adopted another child with Down syndrome; a quasi stab at redemption, only to find that she, of course, was still the one who needed redeeming.

But each time, and I'm serious when I say this, I can almost hear God's voice saying, "share all of you, Gillian. Because in the hard parts, in the times you made bad choices, in your brokenness and lack of faith, I was there. And that's MY story in you."

Before I speak, I usually run to the bathroom and grab a wad of toilet paper to sop up the sweat underneath my arms. I smooth my hair, and look at myself in the mirror. 

I think of God's voice telling me not to waste the life he's given me. I think of one mom who may be struggling. If my voice encourages her to speak up to someone about her struggles, than sharing the ugly parts of me is more than worth it.

And I think of Polly's voice, chattering in my ear non-stop throughout the day. I think about her reciting the Star Spangled Banner with her class in the morning at school. I think about when she tells me that she loves me, and how it fills me up to the brim of my existence with thanks and praise that I get to be her mom.

I think about Evangeline. Oh, how I long to hear her voice. I anticipate it. I wait for it. And until then I stand up for her as her voice.

So, I step out in front of strangers and tell them my story, and I keep querying agnets for my book, and I keep writing down my rambling thoughts here. 

I include the embarrassing parts for sure. But I also include the best parts, how Polly and I are crazy in love now. How thankful I am to be Evangeline's mom. How awed I am that God knew I needed to be broken in such specific ways in order to be used for his purposes and for his glory alone.

Last night, I got an email from someone who attended one of my talks in September thanking me for my willingness to be vulnerable and for sharing my dark moments, thoughts and actions in my presentation. She is a mother to a child with special needs. Here's a little bit of what she wrote:

 

What you said made me feel “normal”, connected and accepted.  (I’m tearing up as I write this to you, even now, because it meant so much to me and I understand how difficult it is to be honest like that with others…even if they are “strangers”.)

That's really the point of why I do what I do. 

I have a voice, and I am learning not to be afraid to use it.

What about you? How are you using your voice?

Why it is hard to tell the truth in my memoir

 (NOTE: I added this post to Joy in this Journey's life: unmasked linky. Read more here.)

Most of you know I recently completed a memoir and am now querying agents for representation.

So far no one's bitten. I have received a handful of polite rejections regarding my project. I suspect I will continue to get rejections for a while. There are just too many aspiring writers trying to get their work in print. Some agents claim over 100 new query letters hit their inbox every day. EVERY DAY! And so I trudge on, do my research, send the queries, and continue to work on my craft.

But I have a confession: sometimes when I get a rejection, I breathe a slight little sigh of relief. It's not that I love rejection ( I mean, come on, I was in Junior High once). It's not because I want to tell one more person in my life that I have spent over three years writing a book and it seems that no one, as of yet, wants to read it.

I breathe a slight little sigh of relief because of fear. I made a commitment to the story and to God to tell the whole truth about those first years of Polly's life. In memoir, (as in life) its a no-no to lie. When I got serious about writing our story, I knew that I would have to be real about everything that happened after Polly was born. As a missionary and pastor's wife, my response to having a child with Down syndrome was much less than Christian. The bottom of my faith easily fell out. I got depressed. I stopped showering. I drank too much Chardonnay. I struggled to love my baby.

Do I really want people to read all of that?

To tell the truth, the answer is no. I don't want people to read the whole story because I am afraid of what they will think of me. I would rather hide the hard parts of my life and let them think that I scooped up my child with special needs and said a prayer of thanksgiving for her life and moved on. I would rather them think that I am always a woman of faith, worthy of the call to be a child of God.

But Flannery O'Conner says the truth does not change according to our ability to stomach it.

I would also add that truth loses its power when altered.

Even though I am afraid, I realize that my story isn't worth telling if not told in its entirety. The very essence of my memoir's power (if there is any) is brokenness. The fact that God came in and rebuilt me and my faith and my relationship with my baby after I fell apart is the real story. The redemptive story. And I am convinced the very thing people need to hear to truly get a clear, non-superficial, non-judgmental idea of Jesus.

I used to think of redemption as a one time thing. I believed in Jesus when I was sixteen years old. His payment for my sins on the cross equaled a done deal. I still believe this. It is the very core of my beliefs.

But I also believe that we are all a work in progress. There is a continual need for everyday redemption. The kind of redemption that heals a mother's heart. The kind that sets a person back up on the wagon after he has fallen off, that helps someone apologize to her kids for freaking out over spilled milk, or causes a shoplifter to put the bra in her purse back on the shelf in Target. A redemption that showed me that the child I was afraid to mother was the exact child I needed to reach depths of joy and wonder otherwise unknown in my life.

So I will keep putting myself out there. If my memoir publishes one day, not everyone will like it. There will be criticism (well deserved, I should add). There will probably even be disappointment. But most importantly, there will be the truth of everyday redemption and unexpected beauty, displayed in the birth of a child with slanted eyes and the widest smile on the planet.

And I think, that's enough.

Sorry I haven't posted... but I finished my memoir!

Sorry this blog is being neglected... again.

But I am happy to report that I have finished the third draft of my memoir and compiled a list of agents to query for representation. These next few days I hope to complete my book proposal and then, God willing, I plan to begin the process of finding an agent to help sell my book.

Here's a little blurb about my memoir:

The day I was told my daughter had Down syndrome, I was alone, holding my baby’s heel in the former Soviet Union. My book entitled KRASATA (beauty in Russian), A Memoir of Motherhood, Down syndrome and Unexpected Beauty, starts with a mother whose faith nearly bottoms out by the birth of her daughter with special needs. With humor, poignancy, and honesty, spanning two continents, the story ends with the unexpected beauty of an unwanted child who points out the benefit of brokenness and helps position her mother’s heart closer to God.

Oh, and I need a favor. Not only do agents want proof that you can actually write, but fore non-fiction, they want proof that people will buy your book. If you haven't done so already, please click over to my author page on facebook and "like" me. I have a goal to get to 1,000 likes. I am currently at 885. Also, subscribe here on Pocket Lint, or through network blogs on facebook. I promise I won't bug you too much with new content, even though I probably should.

I have been working on this book project for three years. Now that I am close to actually showing it to people, I'm a little freaked out.  Edna St. Vincent Millay said that a person who publishes a book appears willfully in the public eye with his pants down. I get that. There are parts of my story about having Polly that aren't pretty. There are pages in the book that are down right embarrassing. Nonetheless, I think that God wants me to get my story out there.

So I will forge ahead and perhaps, invest in a good belt.

"Balancing Expectations" in EFCA TODAY

My article entitled "Balancing Expectations, Listening to both church leaders and parents" is up at EFCA TODAY, the Evangelical Free Church of America's magazine.

The article touches on the proper perspective I shoot for as a mom to kids with special needs, the pastor's wife, and also the children's ministry coordinator at our church. Check it out and let me know what you think.

If you are a parent to a child with special needs, what's been your experience with your church and your kids?

Want to guest post on POCKET LINT? Now you can, with Friday Feature!!

What is Friday Feature?






Every Friday (hopefully!), Pocket Lint will feature a guest post.

There are so many great things in the world:
-Great people
-Great causes
-Great writing
-Great teaching

If you are interested in guest posting on a Friday Feature, double check the topics below, subject matter near and dear to my heart, and if what you do/want to do/should do applies at all to one of the topics, I'd love to have you.

Topics include:
-Down syndrome
-Special needs
-Adoption
-Parenthood
-Writing
-Memoir
-Christianity
-Being a pastor's wife
-Moyamoya disease (or some other life threatening illness to children)
-Chicago
-Ukraine

Don't see a topic you fit into but still want to guest post? OK, pitch me, I'm listening?

To get on the Friday Feature schedule, leave me a comment on my Friday Feature page AND email me at gillian(at)rcn(dot)com (note, two steps: comment and email :). Pitch me your post. If it is a go, then you need to have your post emailed to me by the Wednesday prior to your Friday Feature. As admin on this blog I reserve the right to ask you to change or delete something and can also opt not to publish your feature if it doesn't fit here at Pocket Lint.

If you guest post for a Friday Feature, I encourage you to do a couple things:
-Write well!
-Be open and honest
-Publicize yourself at the end of your guest post :) (facebook handle, twitter, the works, bring it on!)
-Publicize your guest post at Pocket Lint so new readers will check out my blog. (Blog about it, facebook, tweet it etc...)

I'm not sure how well this idea will take off. If there are many guest post offers, please be patient as your post may be scheduled a few months out. But if it fits for Pocket Lint, it will be published. Also, please alert me in your email if you want to write about a time sensitive matter. I'll do my best to bump you up.

Friday Feature! Yay!

Oh no, now I need someone for this coming Friday...

How my Dad pointed me to God

Here's a short excerpt about my dad from my memoir, "KRASATA." Happy Father's Day, Dad!

I have this memory from the day I moved into the dorm my freshman year of college. My dad wasn’t thrilled with the idea of Bible College for me.

“What kind of job can you get with a Bible education? You need to learn something marketable. I had hoped you would go into journalism, maybe consider helping out at my newspaper later in life.”

He consented though, after learning that the college was tuition free, a two-hour car ride from home, and that I would major in Communications and minor in Bible.

The day I moved in to the dorm, after my brother-in-law Bill, a friend, and my father had moved everything up to the eighth floor to my room, mostly without elevator assistance, my dad and I stood in the foyer. We were trying to say goodbye,but both of us were distracted. Another family near us had formed a circle by holding hands. They bowed their heads and the father began to pray. My dad looked at them and then looked at me.

“Come here, Gill,” he said, sweeping his arm towards the hallway. I followed him out the door.

He put his hands on my shoulders while other new students and their families walked by, some turning around to see what we were up to. “Now, I know this is a big step for you. Do well, and, um, call us if you need anything. And, uh, here’s twenty bucks.” He handed me a stiff twenty dollar bill and kissed my cheek. Even though we don’t share the same core beliefs about God and the world, I was assured of his love and support that day, as I have been for my whole life.

While I hugged my father after our long trip back from Ukraine with our newborn daugther who had Down syndrome, I imagined that we were in the corridor of another huge shift in my life: we were stepping into the world of special needs, and the hug evoked similar stirrings in me, as it had on the first day of Bible College. Although my dad didn’t understand what it felt like to have a child with a disability, his presence was a sure thing. He would be there for me through this transition and he would love our baby more than life.

Part of God's plan for my life was to provide me with a dad who loves me and supports me unconditionally. When I was sixteen years old and my friend told me that God was someone I could trust, that he was a good heavenly father, it was no stretch of the imagination to believe her. I believed easily partly because of the stability and love I receive from my Dad, love that provided me a quasi-healthy self esteem (I mean, I am still a girl and I hate my jello-like tummy) and the belief that I am valuable. My Dad has always made me feel like I wasn't alone in this life.

I don't take this gift lightly. I know many daughters do not have these thoughts about their fathers.

And today, on Father's Day, I am thankful.

update

Here's a little update on me.

Firstly, I need to write that I am feeling better emotionally. Case in point. Most days I get out of bed and shower. I've been seen cleaning and organizing things in the home. My kids make me laugh.

I am still going to a doctor once a week for my depression. I am taking a new anti-depressant too. A friend of mine said that she was leery of medication for her moods due to possible side effects. I think that everyone in the Marchenko house agrees that there are far more dangerous side effects to the lives of all involved if mama ain't happy 'round here. Seriously, though, I am not someone who always needs to be on meds. But when I need them, I need them. And I thank God for his provision and care through them.

Secondly, I not only made it through the holiday season but I actually experienced quite a bit of peace. I found moments here and there to ponder Jesus, the Christ child. The kids had fun doing their daily advent calendar and activities and our church was able to put on a little nativity play for the first time this year (since we've been there at least). All good things that pointed us more towards God during the holiday season.

Thirdly, writing... well, it's not going so well. It is difficult to write when you are having trouble completing thoughts. But I do feel myself coming out of it. I am finding more of a drive to get words down on the page. I am also becoming keenly aware that my future has to do with writing. I'll let you know how that plays out.

Serg and kids and church and everything else seem to be doing well, too. I'll be sure to update more on them soon.

Bittersweet by Shauna Niequist, review and giveaway

Shauna Niequist’s book, Bittersweet: Thoughts on Change, Grace and Learning the Hard Way, published by Zondervan, was a great excuse to ignore the kids and other responsibilities for a day or two and sit on my duff and read. Several reviews of Niequist’s 2^nd book (1^st book, Cold Tangerines: Celebrating the Extraordinary Nature of Everyday Life) note that by the end of the book the reader feels like a new friendship with the author has been formed. I could not agree more. The wording; the ease and comfort and lightness even in the midst of difficult subject matter, is Bittersweet’s resounding strength.

I was pleased to see Niequist focus on the duality of life often overlooked in our American Christian sub-culture; the bitter and the sweet.

“Bittersweet is the practice of believing that we really do need both the bitter and the sweet, and that a life of nothing but sweetness rots both your teeth and your soul. Bitter is what makes us strong, what forces us to push through, what helps us earn the lines on our faces and the calluses on our hands. Sweet is nice enough, but bittersweet is beautiful, nuanced, full of depth and complexity.” –Page 11, Bittersweet

Many times Christian books give a quick wink and nod to struggles. “Pray harder! Pray more! Rejoice always! Busy yourself with Christian activities!” While all these things (i.e. praise and prayer and involvement in a local community of believers) are important, they don’t always allow needed space for a person to sit in the mess. God doesn’t promise that if we follow a strict check-list we won’t hurt. Suffering can be wasted because people are trying to get over and through trials quickly.

Shauna is brave. She writes about the underbelly of her life; the bottom falling out of a perfect job, infertility, rejection, struggle with weight, miscarriage. Instead of scurrying around like a hamster trying to feel better in the midst of pain, she slowed down and tried to learn the lessons God had for her. It was refreshing to read about the purpose and importance of struggles.

“The question is not, will my life be easy or will my heart break? But rather, when my heart breaks, will I choose to grow? – Page 233, Bittersweet

There are truthful nuggets like this throughout the book. Once in a while I wanted Shauna to dig a bit deeper and to explore a certain thought or idea more. Overall, though, I enjoyed Bittersweet. It’s the kind of book Christians need. It’s the kind of book I want to read. It’s the type of honesty I want to write.

Need a last minute Christmas gift for a friend? I recommend you check out Bittersweet.

In that vein, Pocket Lint is having its first giveaway! Yay! Want to play and get a chance to win a signed copy of Bittersweet from Shauna?

Here’s what you need to do:

• Leave a comment telling me about a bittersweet moment you experienced.
• For additional entries, leave a separate comment for any of the following: Subscribe to this blog, join my Facebook page or follow me on Twitter (@gillianmarchenko).

I’ll announce a winner next week!

Merry Christmas!

Shauna Niequist is the author of Cold Tangerines: Celebrating the Extraordinary Nature of Everyday Life. Her second book, Bittersweet: Thoughts on Change, Grace, and Learning the Hard Way, was released last summer. She lives outside Chicago with her husband Aaron and their son Henry. She studied English and French literature at Westmont College in Santa Barbara, and worked at Willow Creek for five years and at Mars Hill in Grand Rapids for three years. Shauna loves to travel, eat, read and host dinner parties.

Thank you Shauna, for the lovely book!