Details about the synchroblog and how to join in are below. Anyone can link up if you’ve written something on waiting. Alternatively, you can write a poem, like mine, based on what you’ve been waiting for all your life.
It’s for those who can’t wait. My publisher, the lovely Malcolm Down, has been joking about the irony of publishing a book called Those Who Wait for what must be the most impatient author he’s ever dealt with. (Guilty as charged). He said it should be called, ‘Those Who Can’t Wait’. This made me laugh, because that’s actually exactly who it’s written for. It’s for those who not only can’t wait, but don’t want to wait, and don’t understand why God doesn’t act in times of seemingly meaningless delay. It’s a book for those who question and wrestle with doubt and disappointment.
When I was eight, I was chosen to do a reading at the school’s Advent service. It felt like a very important role, and I practised it for days to get the words right. I got to sit in the choir stalls, which was an important place. I wasn’t, however,
I wasn’t, however, chosen for the choir. My voice was judged inferior* – at least that’s what I remember feeling, even if that wasn’t the full reason. Whenever the choir sang, they all stood up; I remained seated in the stalls. Gradually, I realised – I was the only one sitting down when the choir stood up. All the other readers were also singers.
Whenever I am despairing of life, it is the honesty of the Bible that saves me. I am that child again, looking into the eyes of the storyteller, stuck in the middle, but longing for that good ending I’m promised.
Long story short: I sent him my book; he loved it, and on Friday I signed my first publishing contract! I’m overjoyed to officially announce that I’m partnering with Malcolm Down Publishing, who will publish Those Who Wait on Monday 16th October 2017.
So I commissioned the best artist I know (Jon Marlow, who happens to be married to me), and the best graphic designer I know, Laura Pasterfield (who happens to also be an ordained minister). They have captured the heart and feel of this book so well in this cover. Here it is:
This is the only way to accept praise and criticism, especially of your work – with a light hand. Don’t swallow the opinions down: the good ones are too saccharine, the bad ones too bitter to digest. Hold them in your hand lightly.
I was once at a confirmation service where the former Bishop of Exeter, Michael Langrish, gave an excellent sermon, using a ladder as an illustration. My memory of it is a little dim now, so I’ll be forgetting the nuances of his point, but in any case the image of a ladder has remained in my mind.