Lessons from Aslan and ICRS

While there were many interesting things which appeared on the ICRS floor this year, (Eugene from Focus on the Family would have scared my kids silly and the Holy Lips lip balm was a bit much for my taste) Alsan the Lion from CS Lewis's Chronicles of Narnia was not among them.

At least not that we could see.

But He did make His presence known to me with a roar of truth and reminder. It was a lesson I needed after a day filled with fun and friends and lots of opportunities to either give in to comparitivitis or to praise God.

There's a quote which appears in the third Narnia book, The Horse and His Boy, that God kept bringing to mind throughout my time at ICRS. Aslan tells both Shasta and Aravis: "Child, I am telling you your story, not hers. No one is told any story but their own."

So here's my story in pictures.... and what I learned.

I learned that one of the greatest parts about being a writer are writer-friends.

This is me and Mark Mynheir in Waterbrook Multnomah's booth. If you look closely, both of our books (The Void and Ransomed Dreams)are found within.

Lesson two is that you get through the tough parts and enjoy the good parts with a little (and a lot) of help from your friends.

This is my awesome friend Sharon Hinck with a beautiful poster of her newest release, The Restorer. Sharon and I have shared tears, prayers and lots of encouraging words. Today we shared plenty of smiles and talking about very cool God moments when He showed up to surprise and delight us both.

Here are some more God friends who love me well and both cry and smile with me.

This is my amazing mentor Mary Griffith and another amazing woman who has taught me much about being real with God~ Claudia Mair Burney

Then, right before my first-ever ICRS signing, Kristin Billerbeck caught me to say hi. She made me smile in her classic Kristin way and chased off any remaining jitters I had.

Lesson three is that you never know when God is going to show up. After all, "Aslan isn't a tame lion" and our God is certainly not tame either. But He is good.

I got to sit down (which felt SOOO good after already walking a ton on Monday) and share a book of my heart with lots of really incredible people. But we didn't much talk about Ransomed Dreams. Instead, we talked about their dreams:

A very cool devotional writer and I got to chat about ACFW and her dream of writing fiction.

A number of great bookstore folks told me about their stores and how they love Christian fiction.

And a super-awesome lady I met at the Faith and Fiction breakfast came up to give me a hug and share a few more beautiful New Zealand words of encouragement and blessing.

In the background are some of the wonderful Waterbrook Multnomah folks: my jewel of an editor, Julee; Jan, a super encouraging part of the amazing sales team; and Teresa, a new friend and expert book handler who helped keep books flowing from the table to the great people I enjoyed meeting.

After my signing, I hung out with some other author friends and my over-the-top awesome hubby who made the day extra special just by being there.

There were plenty of God meetings too. A friend of David's was going to interview Ron DiCianni and I shared with her how I described two of his paintings in Ransomed Dreams. She let Ron know that as well as how much I love his work.

I also got to meet Casting Crowns and let them know how much their song The Voice of Truth has touched my heart. So much so that I had one of my characters listen to the song and see the foolishness of continuing to run from Jesus. I'll leave off the gory details about how I had a "writer moment" sharing a few too many words about how Steven and Gracie are alive and talking to Jesus.

But even with all this amazing heart chocolate, I still found it far too easy to look around and say like the character in The Horse and His Boy, "But what about them?" Or a far more whiney version, "Why not me?"

That's when Aslan's words rang loudest. "Child, I am telling you your story, not hers. No one is told any story but their own."

God's words rang with even more specific clarity about trusting His timing, His perfect plan... for Amy, not for anyone else. So instead of counting what didn't happen or what I wish had happened, I stopped looking around and simply started saying, "Thank You, Daddy. You've been so incredibly good to me."

So incredibly good that this picture of how we ended a very full and fun Monday at ICRS only skims the surface of how much laughter a number of tuckered out authors can handle...