I think I write out of freedom now. Instead of an ambition to earn something, knowing that it is something that he's commissioned me to do, almost. That gives me a different sense from me trying to earn validity through the eyes of others, or through a bestseller list, or, um, or others praise in some way. Linking it with the Homeward Ache, I think, has helped me realize that writing is also something that is not going to end with death.
All of these things that I might have a a wistfulness about not being able to finish well, there is an eternity coming where that creation mandate doesn't go away.
Welcome to the habit podcast conversations with writers about writing. I'm Jonathan Rogers, your host, and this is an episode from The Habit archives. Amy Beckley has written that in every place her life has taken her from the Blue Ridge Mountains of her early childhood to the teeming streets of Seoul, Korea, to the old wood paneled libraries of the University of Virginia, to the Rocky Mountains, where she
now lives. And now I'm quoting her. There have always been hints of beauty and great knocks of mercy that have called me from beyond my surroundings, always speaking of a king and friend and father whose presence is truly home. That sense of longing, those clues that maybe we were made for a different world, make their way out in everything. Amy writes, and especially in her book, That Homeward Ache How Our yearning for the Life to come spurs on
our life today. In this episode, Amy and I talk about homeward longing, the idea of Zen, and the importance of writing in community. Amy Beckley, I'm so glad to have you back on The Habit podcast. I'm really excited about your new book, This Homeward Ache. Um, and I'm looking forward to talking to you about the book and about this whole idea of the homeward Ache and Sehnsucht. If I'm saying that word right.
Yeah. Thank you for having me on. I'm so excited to be talking about it on this podcast, because I think there are a lot of listeners who will know and resonate with that long.
Yeah, a lot of, uh, like minded people. Yeah. So tell me about your history with Homeward Longing or Homeward Ache.
Mhm. Um, well, as far back as I can remember, I think one of the first instances, um, encounters I had really with that longing, um, one of them involves a meadow that I lived near when I was nine years old. And I remember, um, walking up the hill and seeing, I mean, it was, you know, kind of probably just one of the many meadows that you can
see dotted all over the Blue Ridge Mountains. And, um, but there was something about the quality of being there and what I was seeing and the atmosphere that I was in that cut me to the heart. Really? And, um. And so, years later, uh, when I ran across C.S. Lewis's description of Zane and of, um, his own encounters with that kind of longing, that's the memory that surfaced for me. Mhm. Um, and so I still look back on that first experience as being probably one of the
most impactful ones. Um, yeah.
Yeah. Um, and I guess we, we kind of jumped right in. Maybe we should have, uh, backed up. Maybe we can back up now. Um, what you're calling homeward ache, uh, or or homeward longing. Lewis called. Well, Lewis didn't invent that word, of course, but. But he used the word Sehnsucht.
I always have trouble pronouncing that word, but, um. Um. And so, um, so the meadow was your connection to your your first memory of of that kind of, um, that longing, that that ache that is better than the relief from the ache.
Yes. Yeah.
Um, do you have a definition of of at the tip of your tongue here?
Well, I've heard it described as, um, a longing for a place that you can't return to, a longing for a place that you may have never even been to. Um. And I like that. I think, um, Louis only uses the word xainza, which he took from German romanticism. Um, I think it's only used once in surprised by Joy. But he also, he calls it by other names like Inconsolable Longing. And, um, it's for me, it was really in his stories that I got the sense of what
he was trying to get at and what he was describing. Um, but that's, I think generally the, definition that's given for.
Yeah. Yeah. Um, what's the the argument from desire. So-called argument from desire from, uh, I guess mere Christianity where where Lewis says, you know, all our desires point to something that something that fulfill, you know, you're thirsty because there's such thing as water and you're hungry because there's such thing as food, right? And if you long for something that that isn't on Earth, maybe that means you're made for something besides Earth, right?
Exactly.
Yeah.
Yeah.
And it is interesting the way, uh. And you've already touched on this for you. It was this meadow which was like, there are probably a dozen other meadows like that that you've seen in your life that didn't have the same effect on you. Mhm. That didn't feel like this little, this little, you know, tear in the, in the veil that, that pointed you to eternity. Um, and when I talked to people, when I hear people talk
about their experiences of this Aik. Um, it's not because I mean, even even with Louis, it's, you know, a flowering currant bush, which he makes no claim is the greatest flowering currant bush in the history of the world. It's just the one that happened to to have an effect on him and that little, you know, moss garden in a in a biscuit tin. Right. Again, nothing all that special. Yeah. But for some reason it it made him long for something, um, something bigger.
Yeah. Yeah. It's like something that comes and greets you instead of, um, something being. I mean, I know that there's an argument to be made for thin places, and I think there are special places where a lot of people can encounter that longing in that particular spot. But I guess one of the major premises that my book is running on is that it's not something that we conjure up, um, even by visiting a special site. It's something that comes and meets us often when we are not looking for it.
Yeah, yeah. Um, goodness, truth and beauty. Um, when it comes to goodness, when it comes to to truth, both of those things that those are things that we pursue. But beauty is something that you you almost don't have any. You know, it it feels like grace because it comes to you on sort. Yeah. And it's and certainly you can seek you can seek beauty. But some of the most memorable moments of an encounter with beauty are times that, that you weren't looking for it.
Yes, I would agree. Yeah.
Um, okay. Well, you you say in your introduction there are lots of books and articles about Zen. Mhm. Um, and you say you're taking a different approach. What's different about your approach? Um, from other other books and, and thinkers uh, on this subject?
Yeah. Um, I would say the way that it's different is it's Is almost exclusively, um, narrative nonfiction essays that are drawn from personal stories and I. It was a lane that I predefined for myself, and so I had to keep within those, uh, lines as I was writing
the manuscript. Um, and I was very tempted to step outside of them sometimes, but it doesn't, um, I wanted, I wanted a book to tell a personal story because, I mean, on at the most basic level, it was because this is the only story I have to tell.
And it I had felt that in reading books about this longing before, um, that the thing that I most longed for was to hear from somebody else who had experienced it and not just hear about their experience, but hear how they were living with it, you know, and that they hadn't just dismissed it or pushed it under the rug. And so this book definitely doesn't have, um, there's no statistics, um, or historical surveys. I'm not looking
at a cultural group. It's not a Bible study. Um, it really is just, uh, the story of an ordinary life. Learning to live with that longing.
Yeah. All right. We've talked about the meadow. Um, what are the other ways that this homeward ache has made a difference in, in your life? Or have you have experienced it? How has it changed the way you parent or, uh, or live in community with friends or go to church or.
Yeah. Yeah, that's I would say that's the whole story of part two. That's what all the essays are trying to describe that effect. Um, I would say it was the journey of walking through and exploring what the ache was, where it came from, why it was significant, and why it wasn't just, uh, a trail of breadcrumbs that was meant to lead me to the truth of Christ as Savior and be discarded with. Um, but something about that
journey itself was transformative. And I think there's a quality to the inconsolable longing, to homeward longing that can teach you to have clearer eyes for eternity and for the
kingdom of God here in a way that, um. A lot of other cerebral exercises can't, I think and I think that's why, um, I think that's why some of these interviews are actually difficult for me to do because, um, Lewis talked about, um, that he felt almost bashful talking about it, that he, he, you know, he was very conscious of treading on tender ground as he was broaching this subject for his readers, because it's such a tender thing. It's a personal experience. And if you've had it, if
you if you remember your encounters with it. Um, those are things that we hold very close in our hearts, I think, and that are very dear to us. And, um, but to take that attitude and to take that stance to living and to look at parenting, to look at writing all of these things, um, I guess that is what I wanted to look at. And so I guess I'm basically saying I tried to answer that in part two, or at least begin to.
Yeah, yeah, you should. Um, I'm sure you have more of these interviews coming up. You should ask your interlocutors to tell their stories of when they experienced how they've experienced.
Yeah, I would love to hear that. That's been one of the best parts. Yes.
Um, you say that this the this homeward ache is an ache that's worth carrying. Um. Why why is it worth carrying? Because one way to handle it is to ignore it and to be embarrassed that you're. That you were so sentimental or or whatever.
Oh, sentimental is such a good word, because that was one of my prayers that I, as I was writing this book, I was praying, I think, continually that, um, I wouldn't fall off the edge into sentimentalism or that it would strike. It's bound to strike somebody out there as that anyway. But, um, I think the ache is worth carrying because of what it does when you when
you hold it, you're holding an open stance to. Receiving more instances of it, of, um, of being in a vulnerable place and to walk through life with that kind of vulnerability, um, I think gives us a better foundation from which to love. Really?
Yeah.
Yeah.
Um, and it's, it feels like, though it's also an ache that that contains a promise. Right? You you feel this ache because there's something, you know, it's not just your imagination that there's something or it's not just wishful thinking that there's that there's more to this world than meets the eye.
Yeah.
Um, and, um, and they're here and they're in in your book, you you talk about re-enchantment. Um, don't you have that right?
I do, yes. The attitude of wonder. Yeah.
I just had a moment of, you know, I read another book. This this. I was reading a different book this morning. I was afraid I was it was getting it wrong. Uh, yeah. Um, but the. Well, we can call it. We can call it Re-enchantment. You can also call it disenchantment because the world enchants us to. Yes, the status quo enchants us and says this is the only world there is. And it's like the, you know, the silver chair, the the, uh, the green, the green lady,
you know, saying, this is all. This is all there is. And for 23 hours. Yeah. Um, Prince William believes it. And then for one hour, he knows it's not true.
Yeah.
Um. The. Okay. Um. I want to I want to read a a moment that I, that I love from your book. I guess the polite thing would be to let you read it, but I've got it right here in front of me, so I'm going to read it my own self.
Go right.
Ahead.
You say one day soon our longing will heal in the most curious way, and we will find that it was not a wound that marred our earthly existence, but a cleft through which the fullness of our coming joy shone. I love it. Do you have any more to say about that?
Just how gracious of God that that is true. I think that's absolutely linked to what you were saying just now about the ache being linked to a promise.
Yeah.
Uh. And how. What a depressing thing it would be if it weren't linked to a promise to have an ache that was just terminal. Um, and I think that's part of the reason why I wrote the book, especially part one, because there are people who feel the ache but don't know where it's coming from. Don't dare to think that. And they don't dare to think that it's tied to something that could be coming. Um, we were we were actually at Disney World, um, earlier this year.
It was a trip that we had saved for for a long time. But, um, I think maybe having had all of those years of anticipation, I was really odd to be there, in a way. Um, I was trying I was standing there trying to understand why, you know, some believers I know love going to Disney World. They make a habit of it. Um, and then we were there also to just the best part of it for me was watching our kids, seeing it through the eyes of our kids. And you get this sense of wonder
and joy and marveling at things. But, um, it was just a it was almost a surreal experience of you're in this utopia where people are actively trying to host this experience for you and draw you into a world where you don't have to worry about daily things for a while. And, um, and you're part of the magic and you're part of a story that, you know, hundreds of other people around you are familiar with. Um, but it was just a little bit jarring for me because
I remember thinking like, what if? In some ways, maybe this is the closest that some people are going to ever get to the experience of the New Jerusalem. And so something about that thought and holding it together with the reality of God's promises, I haven't exactly, you know, spun out all of the definition and the meaning of that.
But I just remember trying to hold both those truths and finding it sad but also hopeful at the same time, because the fact that we have an appetite to be a part of such a story and such a world, um, or such worlds, I think, signals that we definitely have that longing in all of us. Anyway, it was really long. Yeah, that makes sense.
Um.
I'll tell you what. What I love about Disney World. I've been once, uh, as an adult, I was just so amazed at how much the people who made the place seem to love what they were doing, and. And that in itself is meaningful. Um, and, um, I mean, even even the, um, you know, when you're waiting in line for the roller coaster about the Himalaya, you know, the Himalayan monster, the Yeti thing, there's this museum of of Yeti culture that's completely made up while you're waiting
in line and those kind of details. Um, and that kind of hospitality, um, really, um, made me. I was so impressed. But we are off the we are off the subject. I don't know how that relates to the new heavens and the new earth. Um, but I'm looking forward to your next book in which you sort all this out.
Sounds great.
Uh, let's talk about George MacDonald. Uh, who, uh, also, uh, doesn't play as big a role as C.S. Lewis in your book, but he plays a he plays a role. Um, and you quote him on the wise imagination.
Mhm.
And I love this, uh, I love this insight, which now I don't remember if you're quoting MacDonald or if you're just paraphrasing, but it's not the things that we see most clearly that influence us most powerfully. Um, Um, yes. And I don't that that feels like a really important insight. And then I don't know what the next step in making sense of that is, you know, in other words, if the things if it's not the things we understand most clearly that influence us most powerfully, do we then
stop trying to understand things clearly? Um, I mean, and I'm kind of asking when I was as I was composing this question, my first thing was, what are the what are the practical applications of. Well, that's that's not in the spirit of the observation that to go looking for practical applications to, to this very impractical but true observation.
Yeah. So you're asking what the implications are for us.
Yeah. Or what does this have to do with, um, the idea that that it's not the things we understand most clearly that impact us most powerfully.
Um, Mhm.
Our influence is most powerfully. How does that does that change anything about the way we think about writing storytelling? Um.
I think so.
Yeah. Um, well, he's saying that it's not the things we see most clearly. Right. Um, that influence us most powerfully. And so, um, I think as writers, as people who are trying to tell the stories that we're living, um, it I think it reminds us that the essence of what we're trying to convey in writing is never the static image itself. So as good as we can get at describing our surroundings or doing all those writerly things like keeping notebooks with details and using our five senses
and all of that, that's important. But ultimately, when you are trying to convey something, be it through a essay or story or poem or whatever, um, we're trying to convey something that is at the core of our experience, and those are things that are informed by things that are not seen, like the the things that we have felt, the things that we have lived through, the grief and the sorrow, the lament, the joy, um, the underlying truths that we believe to be at work in the world,
all of those things. I mean, it's really a marvel that when you read a book, you you can parse it, but you're not just reading simple details. You're actually taking in a whole way of looking at the world. Right? So I think when we consider how we're influenced and what we're taking in, um, it is absolutely a lot of unseen, the unseen things that color our experience, that inform it, that form the basis of most of it.
Um hmm.
Did I misquote MacDonald when I said the things that, uh oh, I did misquote him. I've seen some things we don't understand. Yeah, things.
But I think that could be true too.
Yeah. The things that we don't always comprehend.
Yeah.
So sometimes we have to work it out on paper too. Sometimes we don't get to the end of figuring it out.
Mhm.
Yeah.
Um. Yeah. Yeah. Okay. And then you know, McDonald's formulation in the same, you know, on the same page I think. Um, speaking of the outward world as a passing vision of the persistent. True.
Yeah.
Um, and that, that confidence that that which is ultimately true and persistently true, um, makes itself known in the in the the visible world.
Yeah.
Not perhaps completely. You know, we don't know those things completely through the visible world. Um, Um, but, um. But I love that language. A passing vision of the persistent. True.
I do too.
And a truth, as you said. Uh, in your in your book, in that essay. It's that's not something we're conjuring up in our, in our brains. The persistent true is is not something we made.
Yes.
Um.
Yes.
That turns it all into an adventure, doesn't it? A juggling act.
Yeah. That's good. Okay. I want to spend a little time talking about your chapter on writing, because a lot of people listen to this podcast are writers, and you have some great, um, great insights. Uh, there in that chapter, um, you talk about the idea that as when you're in graduate school and you the way you grew as a writer, there was not by getting more eloquent, but by Getting
better at thinking clearly. And I think it's really important for writers to get out of the mindset that what we're looking for is better words, or that we're looking for words first. We're not looking for words first. We're looking to see and to understand and to, um, as you said, to think. To think clearly. Yeah. Um, and by the way, I'm glad to know that you got better at writing in an in an English graduate program. Not everybody does.
I have to, yes.
Um, so. Yeah. Thinking, thinking clearly. Um, um, understanding. Having a vision of the world that you can then put into words. And obviously we need skills at putting things into words. Um, and I don't think you were Pooh poohing that, that skill, but I think it's really helpful to put that skill where it belongs, which is not a, you know, and I and as the ultimate goal of a writer, which is a strange thing to say.
It is, isn't it? Um, yeah. I don't know that I ever had the dream of being an eloquent writer in grad school. You know, a lot of it was survival. Um, and finding your place in the academy or figuring out, uh, so much of. When I look back on college now, I realize that so much of it was learning the language of the different subjects that I was in.
Yeah.
So when it came to English and going to grad school. Yeah. The, um, the thing that I really gained from that time was how to think and realizing that good writing a lot of times comes down not to the individual words and their patchwork, but the ideas and the framework of the ideas and how you're organizing them and pacing them and
presenting them. And, um, it's, you know, especially when you're writing papers and you're trying to make a persuasive argument, it's almost more important that you are a clear communicator than that you are impressing the socks off of whoever's reading. You know your advisor. There may be nobody else but whoever's reading your thesis or dissertation. Um, and I, I'm
really grateful for that time. I knew that I. That was kind of my test testing ground for whether or not I wanted to go on, um, to a PhD program. But I'm even having stopped at the Ma level, I'm really grateful that that's the education that I got.
Yeah. Well, our, our, um, uh, the way we learn how to write in an academic setting, which is where we all pretty much learn how to write. Yeah. The the, um, the carrots and sticks are arranged in such a way that that I'm always writing for myself for what I can get out of this experience, whether you know, what I can gain, whether that's being moved on to the next grade or getting a promotion or, you know, impressing somebody, um, it's really hard to learn to think in terms of
loving your reader. Write in an academic setting and then when you get out of academic setting, there's not much else that matters than how I can serve. Serve readers and introduce them to things that are important to me.
Mhm. Yeah. I would say though, that in grad school I learned some of the act of hospitality you.
Did.
Of writing, but that was more even, that was more for am I getting my point across so that I can get what I need to out of this assignment? The actual learning to love the reader, including the readers of this book, I think, came quite a bit later for me. Um, because there's also a difference between, um, hospitality for the sake of being received. Well, um, and hospitality, because you are investing in the life of somebody that
you may have never even met. But. Yeah, um, but whom you want to encourage or who you want to encourage through your words.
Yeah, yeah, I don't, I don't, uh, if you were to learn that sort of thing in graduate school, you would be a miracle on two legs. Yeah, it's just not a setting where that where the rewards are set up for that. Um, okay, so in your essay on writing, you talk about a, a recent change in your perspective on what it means to be a writer. Um, I'd love to hear you talk about that. Now, you said this happened in January of this year. Do you mean 2023, or did you write this another year?
No. I was writing from the viewpoint of, uh, the story that I tell at the beginning of that chapter. So it was actually 2017.
Gotcha. Okay, good. I was I was thinking, wow, you've really made a lot of progress here.
And yes, I'd be impressed too.
Um, okay, I that makes sense. Um, and you said you You ask the Lord what you should do.
Yeah.
And then what happened?
Yeah. I'll back up a little bit on that. Um. In 20. So I graduated from grad school in 20, in 2009. We moved to Colorado in 2010. And I think amid the whole, you know, upheaval of everything that we had known and the stripping away of community and learning the ropes of new motherhood, um, I had started blogging. This is as best as I can remember it. Um, I had started blogging just to. I don't know that I was trying to get words out. I think I
was just trying to make something. Um, and then, you know, there was a little online Christian women blogging world out there at the time. Um, and those were mostly for helping me to reorient my perspective from day to day, you know, because they can all blur together. Um, but I think it was when I ran across the rabbit room A few years later that I it just it
was an epiphany. It was, um, it was really something to see that there were people writing entire essays and articles on works of art that they loved, and trying to figure out why and what, um, the beautiful things
were about those works of art. Um, and so then I started writing longer form essays, but I always did it as someone who was kind of sneaking away from daily life to do those things, you know, like if I left, if I was leaving some household chores done, um, there would always be that faint hum of guilt underneath it all. And I didn't know exactly what I was doing with those essays and whether I would submit them
or stories. Um, so so the January of 2017, um, I sat down and I, I, I felt the freedom at that point to ask the Lord, listen, am I really am I really wasting my time? Should I, you know, should I get my head on straight and go back to work? Um. And so I left it open, ended to him. And I really think that was the first time that I could have asked it that way, without
wishing that he would answer in one direction or the other. Anyway, so I asked that question and then, um, I think the way that I talk about it in the book was that it? The answer came in little pieces at a time, and it did surprise me because it wasn't. Yes, get back to work, be a mother, be a wife, um, or whatever all of that entails. Um, and it wasn't. Well, you have a shining gift. You should go and use that.
It was really just. It just came down to a very plain answer of, do you know what I've made you to do? Do be a part of the kingdom, be a part of the body of Christ. And, um, and when it came down to it, I, I realized that writing was maybe one of those few things that I had to offer that could be of any use at all to somebody else. Um, and so that was kind of a realistic answer, I thought. Or, um, a
middle ground. Good, solid answer for me. So, um, when that came, I decided to I think that gave me the freedom to start treating it as more of a, um, a charge that I had and something that I could be faithful with in doing.
Mhm.
Yeah.
But you also say it wasn't a lofty charge. Your sense of occasion was not a lofty charge, but rather like a little garden allotment.
Yes. I want to say that that's a phrase that I got from you. Um, maybe I wanted to have it newsletters or.
That's something I've talked about before. So yes, it definitely caught my attention.
Uh, yeah. So I loved I loved that image.
Um, yeah. And I think it's so true that you have an allotment plot and you can invest the time and the energy to make it flourish. Um, and dream about what you can bring out of it for others.
Yeah, I love it. Um, and it's it's that's a freeing way to think about it. I mean, this whole this whole chapter, there are lots of ways that you talk about writing in that chapter that I feel like that that chapter, that essay, um, I mean, that essay is, is, you know, worth the whole book. I mean.
Wow.
I, I love the whole book, but but that I think that essay is so helpful, um, in the ways that you reframe, you know, I mean. Creative work, you know, and what it means to within the kingdom to do
creative work. I mean, things like, um, when you said, um, uh, you know, I'm now you paraphrase this a minute ago, but I'm, I think I have, as a member of the body of Christ, Your first calling is to live and breathe and be, and your writing grows out of that, out of your being, not out of your, um, whatever else,
wherever else it might grow out of. And I do think a lot of times, uh, writers think it's their job to ventriloquize to learn to sound like somebody else and to have, you know, to have a different kind of ideas than the ones they normally have.
Yeah.
Um, because how could my ideas be worth that much to anybody else? Because who am I to have big ideas and and I appreciate your what you're saying here. I big or small, they're my ideas. And somebody might need them.
Yeah. Yeah. I love the way that you phrased that to ventriloquize something. Yeah. And there's a difference. I think there's a balance or there's, I guess the flip side of how you can look at that, that you want your writing to continually. You want to be good at it. You want to get better at the the art aspect, the skill aspect of it. And a lot of times that does entail research and becoming a better thinker or
a better communicator. But yes, to feel the pressure to be somebody that you're not, I think is ultimately it's it fizzles out eventually, but it also detracts from the the story that you have been given to tell, which is, I think, for every person much more momentous than they often think it is.
Yeah.
Yeah.
What? Momentous or not, it's just what you've got.
Yes.
When you. When you get out beyond. When you start, you know, leaning out too far over your skis. You're from Colorado. You understand these.
Things. I don't ski, but. Yeah. I can.
Imagine.
The, um. But you end up only giving people something that that they could have gotten for themselves. If it's not coming from you anyway, then, you know, and you had to go elsewhere to borrow it to give. They could have borrowed it to. I. Your your limitations really do provide you with some clues as to what you
have to give to the world. They're not just a I mean, and you talk about this, um, in a slightly different way when you you talk about getting rejoicing in the fact that it's not your job to write about every topic or to write in every genre. You've got your your things that are that are you you, um, learn to sing the song that God put in your mouth.
Yeah.
Um, yeah. That's what that's that's that's from the Psalms.
Yes it is.
Which you, you know, you you quote. I'm not, I'm not. I'm quoting you. Quoting the Psalms is what's going on.
Yes. That's good. Yeah.
Um. But I love it.
Yeah.
That's learning to sing. The song that God put in your mouth is a remarkable way to think about what what this work is.
Yes.
And it I think it really just shows the remarkableness of our God to that he he could have had the song come from anywhere else. He could have just had it sung or just exist in itself. But the fact that he brings us alongside him and that we were made to participate in that, and that there's a mystery of there's an interchange and a growth that happens as we do so. Uh, it's so exhilarating to think about and so good of him to give us that participation, I think.
Yeah.
Yeah.
Yes. I want to talk briefly, and we're running out of time. I've still got lots of things on my list that we're not going to get to. But, uh, speaking of ways you reframe, I love the way you when you talk about your involvement in a community of writers, you know, at the the Anselm Society, through cultivating through the rabbit Room and I don't know how else. What's your other you know, communities of of writers are. But I love the way you talk about, um, asking for feedback. Um,
let me find this here. You say, um, it's not to to ask others for their feedback is not ask them to find all the faults in your world in your words, but ask them to help you make those words as clear and well expressed as possible. And, um, I think that's a really helpful way for people who are concerned about being in a writer's group or or opening up, giving a a draft that's not a final draft. Uh,
that's a vulnerable thing to do. And if you're thinking what I'm doing here is asking people to tell me everything that's wrong with what I've done.
Yeah.
No wonder people don't want to do that. It doesn't sound fun to me either.
Yeah.
Um, but if it's. Here's some people who are willing to help me. Um. speak my speaking my voice a little bit better. Yeah. And say what it is that I have to say a little bit better.
Yeah.
That has been the gift of being in communities like this. And I've been so interested to see how the dynamic of that feedback changes over years. I can still remember at the very beginning of the Anselm Arts Guild, um, or soon after I had come into it, at least reading a piece aloud and getting feedback on it. Um, and we had, you know, just just met. We had all just become acquainted with each other. And, um, that feedback is very different from the feedback I get nowadays
when I talk to colleagues in the same community. And, um, I think it's not just that we're asking for feedback to be, uh, about whether or not we're, um, expressing the words clearly enough, but it's also a request to be known.
Own.
Like when you're in community with peers, when they know where you are coming from and they know what your aspirations are. Um, I remember that one of the questions that we asked, uh, in a guild meeting was, um, what is your dream of your, um, magnum opus? If you had to describe your magnum opus, what would it be? And those answers were so illuminating to me. I carried them with me today. So when I'm giving feedback to somebody, it may not be that they're working on their magnum opus,
but I know where their heart is. I know where the hope, the hope that they hold for the audience that they want to reach. And that changes the feedback that I give. And also knowing their voices and growing used to them over time. Uh, it makes me give different feedback from, you know, feedback that I would give to a stranger. Some things become less important than others, and some things become more important.
So.
Um, that has been a gift to be a part of.
Yeah. How did you answer that question?
The magnum opus?
Yeah.
I don't remember right now. Um, I may have said something about it was probably linked to this. Um, I don't know if it my. I think a long held dream that I've had has been to write a nonfiction book about this longing and then a fiction book that evokes it. So it doesn't address it directly, but it I think my aspiration has always been to. Write something that will hearten and encourage somebody else. The way that I've been impacted by Lewis or Tolkien.
Um.
And favorite stories that have stuck with me over time. So it was probably something like that.
Yeah.
Yeah.
Um, okay. I, I want to ask, uh, I think this is going to be the last big question.
All right.
You say I'm a different storyteller than the one I would would be if I had not stopped to ask my Lord what he thought.
Mhm.
How are you different?
I think I write out of freedom now instead of. An ambition to earn something.
Mhm.
And um I think in the book I talk about or that chapter, I talk about how um asking him just um, knowing that it is something that he's commissioned me to do almost. That gives me a different sense from me trying to earn validity through the eyes of others, or through a bestseller list or, um, or others praise in some way. And, um, it's helped me, like we were talking about, realize that I'm working alongside others. Like
I think C.S. Lewis in an essay talks about how, you know, we have writers have their work and a charwoman doing her work and a writer doing his work. They're both doing it to the glory of God. Like, it's it's a it's work. Um, but also, um, linking it with the homeward ache, I think has helped me realize that writing is also something that is not going to end with death. All of these things that I
might have a a wistfulness about not being able to finish. Well, there is an eternity coming where that creation mandate doesn't go away.
Yeah.
I'm so thankful for that. And I think most of all, I think it's just been that question enabled me to to open my arms to him in a sense and to say like, well, obviously this is not something I'm doing alone and you're here. Um, and how do I walk this with you? And that has been, I think, just.
Are.
An amazing step by step journey of watching him provide when I was absolutely out of ideas or, um, the ability to be coherent about anything. Um, and even I see the the mercy even these days even this week with the with the book coming out soon. Um, you know, things are topsy turvy and I've got a sick family, but I see the mercy in it. I feel like
I can't dismiss, uh, the circumstantial things where I'm seeing him. Um, remind me that it's not a road, that I'm walking alone or a burden that I have to carry or, you know, or a gift that I hoard to myself. This experience of walking with him or writing. So anyway, yeah, all of that. I'm so glad that I asked that question, you know, and to go back to, um, the pattern that I see throughout the book, maybe it wasn't a question that was solely born of me. Maybe too was part of the guidance.
Yeah, yeah.
All right. Let me let me ask my typical last question, because I know you've answered this. You answered this last time you're here. But they may have changed. So who are the writers who are making you want to write these days?
Um.
I probably I don't remember what I answered before. Um, but I think something that has become dear to me recently is reading the letters of the writers that I, that I admire. So it's it's not just the works, the writers who have produced these works, but the writers who and who they were behind the curtain. So Louis writing to children and Tolkien writing to his publisher and his friends and talking about, um, the things that have
surprised him along the way. I've really loved revisiting those stories.
Yeah.
And then, um, there are I have so many living authors these days. Um, some of whom have become good friends who really inspired me, like, um, trust a pain in the cultivating project. And, um, Matthew Cyr, they've they've both had pieces that caught my attention, I think, because they were writing about their fathers and Trusta was writing about the kindness of God. Did her father, who rejected Christ,
finally see the kindness of God in the end? And then you've got Matthew Sears piece about loading his father's ashes into a shotgun and, um, and making that be his tribute to him. Um, there's just something about the way that they tell those stories and the way that they plumb the depths of, um, their own sorrow that I'm so grateful for.
Yeah.
Yeah, yeah. I love it when when people answer this question with people that they know.
Oh, great. I'm glad.
All right, well, Amy Lee, Amy Buckley, thank you so much for being here. It's always a pleasure to talk. Hope we can talk again soon.
That would be great.
Thank you so.
Much.
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