Perspective

Oh my word, I’ve written a novel. Scratch that--I’ve written two. That’s over 700 pages of printed text over the course of not quite twelve months. Yikes. Did I really do that? Is Tyndale really publishing all those words? Are they really going to put my name on the cover of the book? Life is crazy, you know that?

So now I have a website and a blog and I suppose I have to keep up with these sorts of things. But I have to admit that I have no idea where to start. I don’t really journal, instead I’ll write a poem or a few lines or a dozen pages of fiction that is in all reality non-fiction. (Aren’t emotions just as real as events? Sometimes more so, I think.) Anyway, so here I am, typing a blog and babbling away even though I can’t imagine anyone will care to read it.

The truth of the matter is, as awesome and unbelievable and wonderful as this all is, I think God is doing a really good job of keeping me grounded. Though Publisher’s Weekly just featured my book in an article (Sparkling Debuts, May 21, 2007), though my Advanced Reader Copies are even now jetting their way across the US and Canada, though my life’s dream is being realized at the prodigious age of 29, I’m still just Niki. I’m a mom, a wife (scratch that--a pastor’s wife; an entity in and of itself, sigh), a substitute teacher, a Bible study leader… It’s hard to see myself as a novelist. Never mind the fact that I recently had foot surgery and it’s difficult to think about anything past the throbbing in my toes and the way I’m convinced I can feel the three-inch pins sticking out of my foot. Disgusting. Hardly glamorous or exciting or any of the things I’ve always imagined being published to be.

But then again, who wants glamour? Aaron and I traveled to Ethiopia the day after Thanksgiving 2006 to pick up Judah, and what we saw there has essentially robbed me of any desire for fame or fortune. Not that I don’t have moments (okay, long, uninterrupted stretches) when I wish more than anything else to be known. “See me! Love me! Think I’m wonderful!” But then something happens in my life that snatches my head out of the clouds and plants my feet firmly on solid ground. I’m thankful for that. It’s a scary prayer to pray, but nonetheless: “Lord, keep me humble.”

It’s all about perspective, isn’t it? When I look in a mirror, all I see is me. When I have the foresight to turn around, the world becomes a very big place and I am nothing more than a speck of sand on a breathtaking, endless beach. I’m okay with that. It’s enough to simply be a part of it. And, speaking of perspective, it does me good to pull up this picture whenever I start feeling special, important: Two little girls begging on the streets of Addis Ababa. Who am I to long for glamour?