I am Meg Moseley. Meg, a writer. Seeking the real God in the real world.

Tuesday, May 23, 2006

Corey Hau in Infuze Magazine

The current issue of Infuze, an online magazine of "Art, Entertainment, and Faith," includes some photography by my friend Corey Hau. (That's pronounced "How.") Corey is a missionary with YWAM and based in Seattle, but these images are from an orphanage he visited in Kyrgyzstan earlier this year. (Scroll down the "Creative Works" on the sidebar and you'll see his name.)

Corey is a gifted photographer. He sees the world as it is, beautiful and broken, in need of the Savior. Please take a few minutes to visit Corey's blog, "Remain," for more of his photography and his thoughts.

Infuze requires a quick and free registration. It's worth the little bit of trouble. Besides photography and other visual arts, poetry, short stories, and articles, the magazine does interviews with interesting people and reviews of current music, movies, books, and video games, both secular and Christian. It's always crammed with good stuff, sometimes controversial, always interesting.

Monday, May 22, 2006

On I-75 with Levi's Will

I didn’t know I’d chosen the perfect book to read on this particular road trip with my family: Levi’s Will, by Dale Cramer. Just before we started our 12-hour drive to a wedding in Michigan, I grabbed the book. It’s about an Ohio boy named Will who ran from his Amish family at age 19, wound up in Atlanta with a new last name, and spent years seeking reconciliation with his hard-headed father. The book was named one of Library Journal’s best books of 2005 and Booklist’s best Christian novel of the year, and it has been nominated for the 2006 Christy Award.

Honors aside, I would have loved it on its own merits and also for the way it dovetailed into this particular weekend. I didn’t start reading it until we were on our way home to Atlanta after the wedding. Somewhere in Ohio, it struck me: We were traveling the same highway, I-75, that Will drove, over and over, between Atlanta and Ohio. We had just witnessed a wedding that was largely populated by conservative home-schoolers whose lives seem somewhat Amish-like. And, like Will, we saw two worlds mixing and sometimes looking at each other askance.

I kept reading as we zipped through the flat Ohio farmland and into Kentucky’s hills. I had nearly finished by the time the tire blew, just north of Berea. I retreated to a shady spot on the hillside to read while my husband and the boys worked on getting the shredded tire off. They had some trouble with it, so I had plenty of time to read and think--about the fathers and sons and brothers in the book. About the women who loved them.

I kept wondering about the Amish and about some of the more conservative wedding guests. Why won’t they let their daughters work outside the home? Why do the women wear head-coverings? Why do they keep having babies every year until their wombs wear out? How do various groups decide where to draw the lines on particular issues?

I couldn’t answer most of my own questions, but the guys conquered their problem with the stubborn tire. We climbed back in. I finished the book before dark as we drove on through the mountains. Driving twelve hours in one day, you cover a lot of territory so quickly that you see the contrasts: flat farmland in the morning, rolling hills and rugged mountains by afternoon, and city freeways and skyscrapers lighting the night. It’s all part of one day. The varied landscapes are all parts of one country.

Different types of believers are all parts of one body, like it or not.

At the wedding, the different trappings didn’t seem to matter. I suspect they should never matter very much. What matters is getting past the rules to the grace. Getting past the differences to the hearts. I need to remember that, always. Thanks to Dale Cramer for the beautiful reminder.

Wednesday, May 17, 2006

The fiction addiction

The fiction addiction is taking over my house again. For a while, I had everything under control. Books were on shelves, where they belonged, except for two or three that I was reading or re-reading. Then my friend Suzan came over and lent me a stack of good reads. Then I hit a bookstore on Mother’s Day and bought a few more. The end table began to disappear under a load of books.

I went to the library with my fifteen-year-old. I told myself I couldn’t check out any books because of the stack sitting at home. Yeah, right. I left the library with seven. My son checked out nine, although his bedroom floor was already littered with books.

One of my son’s older friends from church stopped by and stumbled upon the litter—literally stumbled, probably, since they’re all over the floor—and the two of them plunged into an intense discussion of what they’ve read lately. There’s quite an age gap between these guys, but they’re on the same page when it comes to enjoying a good story.

I was happy to see their camaraderie, but I wish I saw it more often in that generation. Not many of the 20- and 30-somethings in our church seem very interested in fiction. They tackle some heavy non-fiction, including Christian classics that cover way more theology than I figure I need, but they steer away from fiction. Especially CBA fiction. Maybe it’s because they’re too busy to read much, and they think only non-fiction is worth their time. Or maybe CBA fiction, on the whole, is written to please a different demographic. A 60-year-old Sunday School teacher in Peoria, for instance. I don’t know.

But I’m glad there are at least a few young guys out there who are addicted to good fiction. One day, I hope they and their wives will read thousands of bedtime stories to their own kids and never, ever scold them for a floor littered with books.

Monday, May 15, 2006

Fantasy Blog Tour

Some of my cyber-buddies who hang out at the Faith*in*Fiction discussion board are doing a blog tour of fantasy fiction, so I'm going to jump on their bandwagon. These are a bunch of fun people, so even if you think you don't like to read fantasy, you might enjoy the ride. It looks to me like they're covering books for kids, adults, and everything in between, so that means you.

Becky Miller's blog, A Christian Worldview of Fiction, seems to be the gathering place, and she will send you on your merry way to Tim Frankovich's Christian Fiction Review, Sally Apokedak's All About Children's Books, and Mirtika Schultz's Mirathon, among others.

Have fun!

Friday, May 12, 2006

Feeling like an auntie

I don't know this from experience yet, but I've heard that authors feel like new parents when they hold their newly published books for the first time. They've gone through a long pregnancy, but there it is, finally. A baby made of ink on paper. The thoughts of the author's heart have gone through all the stages of the writing process and the publishing process. Finally, what started as a germ of a story is a real book.

I went to my mailbox on Friday, and there was the gorgeous hardcover edition of The Measure of a Lady by my friend and critique partner, Deeanne Gist. I loved this story months ago, when I read the first line: "This Street Is Impassable, Not Even Jackassable"--a sign that actually stood in muddy, mucky San Francisco during the Gold Rush.

Deeanne is devoted to historical accuracy, but she also writes a fast-paced, funny story that goes deep while it entertains. This book is her baby, but I feel like one of the proud aunties. Congratulations on another beautiful baby, Deeanne!

Spring surprises

It seems like the trees were bare just days ago, and now they're dense and green with leaves. How did May get here so soon?

This is my first spring in this particular house, so I'm enjoying the surprises. We didn't know we had a star magnolia in the back yard, for instance. It just looked like an ordinary little tree in the corner, but now it's filling up with white flowers.

Another discovery: wild strawberries down in the wilds below the deck. They'll be a pain to pick, being on a steep, rocky bank, but it might be worth it unless the bank is home to snakes, in which case they can have the berries and welcome to 'em.

Do snakes like berries? Am I revealing myself as an ignoramus? (That wouldn't surprise me in the least.) And how can I know whether or not there are snakes unless I get out there and poke around?