# 1 Passage to Purpose: A Sign
Two years ago, I prayed, “God if you want me to be published give me a publisher.” He gave me a publisher and a “sign” I could not deny. I’ve never had a parking spot reserved for me, and they even spelled my name correct. My entourage, husband and two friends, warned me not to get the “big head”. I guess this makes me an official “author” and is a sign, literally, that God’s plan for me is writing. The journey to my purpose in life has been long. My fault; I can be dense.
I wish I’d known sooner. I would have paid attention in english class and studied writing in college. Instead, I’ve stumbled through life struggling to keep my head above water as I looked for a place to belong. I’m 54, and I’ve finally arrived. Maybe, the jury is still out on people buying my book.
Anyhow…the new Passage to Purpose Category is home to a series of articles about my long journey to becoming a published author. The articles will eventually transition into my adventures in marketing a book. The days of dropping a messy manuscript on a publishers lap and expecting them to do all the work while you spend the advance are gone. Unless, you are famous. Then they will ghost write it, have it published in thirty days, and send you on a book tour. I don’t fault them for that. They are in the business to make money. Famous people sell more books than the average unknown author.
Let’s move on to my “unknown author” story. The first hint that God wanted me to write flickered in the 1980’s. My husband worked part-time as a children’s pastor. Striving to be a “helper suitable” for my man, I wrote two teaching series for him to use in Children’s Church – The Ten Commandments and The Fruit of the Spirit. When he failed to teach the series as I had written it, the prima donna in me arose. I refused to write another series.
Several years later, I abandoned Children’s Church to teach an adult Sunday school class. One day, a woman from Honduras walked into the class with a cheap cassette tape recorder, this was way before everything went digital, to record my class. Elise thought the country of Honduras needed me. She planned to translate the lessons into Spanish and put them on the radio in her motherland. I was flattered that she thought the good people of Honduras needed my teaching, but her ambition was grander than her bank account. The poor recordings and cost thwarted her goal. I tried to comfort her by giving her the outlines of my lessons.
When others in the class requested copies of the outlines, I began writing more of the lesson until it became a transcript of everything I said. The copies I made for the student’s consumption would disappear from the table as quickly as I laid them down. Murmurs of “you should be published” hung in the air. I had no desire to be published and dismissed their comments as kindness.
I taught the class for five years before the church withered on the vine under the leadership of a pastor who loved God but not God’s people. My family departed in the sheep’s exodus for greener pasture and the door shut on teaching. I took my precious children, seven book length teaching series I’d written for my class, put them in a safe place and wept as I sunk into a depression.
I didn’t know God had a new path for me to walk, but more about that in my next post.