A guest post by Pam Richards/@candletothesun
I am happy to feature Memoir Author Pam Richards in this guest post on writing about miracles. In her memoir, Singing from Silence, Pam pays tribute to her friend , Christian musician Rich Mullins and shares a miracle she experienced after his death. Here are my reviews on Amazon and Goodreads.
Have you ever experienced a miracle in your life and then wondered who you could share it with? Would others think you were crazy? But you know that it’s real. As a writer , how would you reveal it in your writing?
Pam will explore these questions and invite us all to explore our own lives for miracles we may be willing to share.
Welcome, Pam!
Which genre would best permit an author to unveil a miracle?
A scientific journal stands to lose professional respectability by flying in the face of the known laws of physics. In the same vein, fictional accounts–unless they fall into the categories of magical realism or fantasy–don’t tend to climb too far out on a limb. Preserving believability through careful attention to realistic detail is normally critical to the author’s intention to make his scenes pop.
Miracles may be well and good, but we fear they undermine the careful crafting an author of fiction relies upon to duplicate reality.
Science is still advancing the boundaries of our knowledge every day, but most of us are much more unfamiliar with the invisible precepts of wave versus particle than we are with more sensibly accessible categories of science like chemistry or gravity.
If not in a memoir, when can we cite a miracle?
Is it such a stretch to consider the Gospels of Matthew, Mark, and John memoirs? In writing about the miracles they saw, of course they risked being called crazy. They saw things we probably never will: events that defy logic. But more things exist than we can experience with our senses. In Rich Mullins’ final interview with podcaster Dick Staub in April of 1997, he noted the failure of logic to cover the vast spectrum of human experience:
“. . . I basically feel like the enlightenment has played itself out. And it’s done all the damage it can possibly do. I mean, I don’t know how much more damage the idea of that logic is supreme is going to do, but I think, you know, we got to the bottom of logic, and-and it doesn’t really cover the material.”
Is logic able to address all things seen and unseen? I think it’s much safer to say there exist many real things that we will never be able to prove through reason and our senses.
I constantly watch the skies as I drive. Often, I see a parhelion. Sometimes called sundogs, these iridescent segments of rainbow flank the sun in the high clouds at a certain latitude from the horizon.
The only time my children see them is when I’m in the car to point them out, and my passengers are always quick to instruct me to keep my eyes on the road. They’ll never be natural sky watchers like my father was. They claim I see sun dogs simply because no one but me looks into the sun.
My father flew weather reconnaissance heading into a typhoon during World War Two, and we always had in common our fascination with the skies. Toward the end of his life, he struggled with dementia. I urgently wanted to share the vision of a parhelion with him. I’d call him when I spotted one, wherever I was, and ask him to look out the window. The sun dog doesn’t last very long. Evanescent, ephemeral, the parhelion holds its short-lived candle to the sun. My father, who wasn’t so steady on his feet, couldn’t get to the right place at the right time to see one. He died before we shared that vision.
I was the one with the blessing–or from another point of view, the burden–of seeing sun dogs. Do I believe they are miraculous? Not really. I know the precise weather patterns that enable them to exist. I know exactly where to find them in the sky, and at what time of day. But I do think it’s fair to use them as a metaphor for miracle. Some people experience them, but most don’t. No matter how well you train yourself to see the parhelion, you may never see one.
Why do I feel compelled to let people know about sun dogs, even when I realize how seldom they are seen?
Because I know how beautiful they are.
They are a symbol of their Maker’s beauty, and along with the gift of enjoying beauty, I believe He gave me the obligation to share it.
Those of us who write memoirs to share the truth of our lives may consider our responsibility to reveal the miracles we have experienced.
If we are letting our readers slip their feet into our shoes and live a part of our life’s journey, how can we deprive them of our most transformative moments?
When we have had a parhelion moment in our lives, how do we address it in our memoirs? Do we hide it behind a cloud of careful compromise to obscure its exceptional—and perhaps questionable—nature, or do we reveal it in full glory?
Do we stifle it with silence, or do we let our writing sing?
Author’s Bio:
Born in 1956, Pamela Richards is an artist by temperament, inclination and training, although she has spent most of her professional career as a sign language interpreter. She has also done sign language illustration, raised three children, and cared for her parents.
She enjoys photography, building websites and making video presentations. She feels led to promoted the work of artists who touch hearts. She gives out of her own creative gifts.
She has spent the past four years as a writer, compiling her memories of her experiences with Rich Mullins, who profoundly influenced her spirituality and concept of creativity.
Pam was compelled to write her memories of Richard after listening to his music again after nearly ten years of trying to push him out of her mind following his death. “I found that denial really does not help us deal with grief,” she states, “and that music offers an immediate portal to memory. But Richard always knew that.” She has learned that those who mourn will not be left uncomforted, and this is what she shares in her writing.
[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZQ7I1QwDJXc]
How about you? Have you ever experienced a miracle in your life and if so, how do you feel about sharing it? Let’s talk.
We’d love to hear from you. Please leave your comments below~
Next Week: Journal to Memoir: Planting the Seeds for Story
