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
Yes, I’ve experienced more than one miracle in my life. But, one stood out as I read this article. The reason it stood out is that in my excitement concerning the miracle I was eager to share it.
I learned an important yet hard truth.
The miracle? A few days before my mother’s death she was allowed to glimpse into the home which awaited her. More importantly she was able to talk to those of us gathered around her about what she was seeing. It was breath taking and amazing in the true sense of the word, “amazing.”
When I began to share some of the things Momma told us about with her pastor, he looked at me with a frown and told me that many people who were as ill as she was experienced delusions and I shouldn’t put much stock in what she was saying.
I still tell others about the beautiful time Momma had telling us about seeing her dad walking toward her, the colors of the flowers in the field which she could not name because we have no words for the variety of colors she saw, snow that was not cold, much more, and most importantly her brief yet telling description of Jesus as he walked with her dad to greet her. In her obvious excitement, she spoke his name, “Jesus,” then her two word description, “He’s pretty!”
I tell of the miracle I witnessed, but I don’t expect others to see, understand or even believe me when I tell it.
Dear Yvonne,
It’s so nice to meet you. Thank you so much for stopping by and sharing your beautiful story. It really touched me. I had a similar experience when my best friend, Judy was dying in her hospital bed from end-stage breast cancer a the age of 49. She had been in and out of consciousness but the day I visited,she was alert and talkative. When I walked into the room, she smiled and said ” I see beautiful flowers, daffodils.” She seemed to be going in and out, like she was straddling the here-and-now and the here-after. I claimed it as a gift that she was seeing the afterlife in all its glory and a miracle.
I appreciate your comment, also about how you do not expect others to believe or even understand the meaning you place on these events. I’m happy you shared your story and what it meant to you. As you see, it helped me to tap into one of my stories.
I visited your lovely website at http://journalinabox.com and am very intrigued with your work in helping people expand their self-awareness and lead productive lives through journaling.
Hope you’ll stop by again!
Best wishes,
Kathy
Thank you for sharing this, Yvonne. In so many of these stories, the thing that strikes me most is how joyfully delighted, how like a child these spontaneous responses to the Divine seem to be. It makes me feel a little sorry for the pastor who frowned. Someday, when he enters the Kingdom with the heart of the child, I hope he smiles like your mother did.
Pam
I will certainly never look toward the skies again in the same way. I don’t think that I have ever seen a sundog, but then again perhaps I never knew how to look for them. Could this be true, too, with miracles?
Interesting question,Pat. Personally I think there are little miracles in each day, but I may not see them. For me, it’s a matter of perspective. When I was undergoing cancer chemotherapy and realized my prognosis was uncertain, my perspective changed drastically. It turned out to be a gift, as I began to see the little miracles in each day because the sudden and acute awareness that life was precious made me appreciate everything more- the birds, the flowers, being able to breath. I experienced some pretty big miracles too. When one faces their mortality, one looks for miracles. At least , I did. I love Pam’s description of sun dogs. It’s a perfect example of how miracles do exist and a great reminder of what a gift it is to share it.
Hi, Pat!
Miracles and sundogs take a little faith to start with–just enough faith to look in the right direction at the right time.
We can’t sell someone our faith, we can’t hand it over in a transaction. Faith isn’t a present we can give someone else wrapped in pretty paper and ribbon. How can we transmit faith?
We can plant a seed, prompt a question that in turn may grow up into a tree someday. Someday when the conditions are right, perhaps you will look toward the sun and find the answer to your question. I hope when you do, your faith will be strengthened.
I’ve seen lots of sun dogs — I just didn’t know they had a name. I love them! How amazing to learn that so few notice. I wasn’t even trying.
Miracle? Yes, at least three times I’ve escaped instant death or major injury while in the car. Twice a car was coming at me at full speed, driving the wrong way in the inside lane of a divided highway. In both cases I had cars to my right and behind me. Both times the other car mysteriously slipped by with no collision or harm. Was the oncoming car an illusion to begin with, or did a true miracle occur?
The other time was in my own driveway. The engine had not stopped making those cooling clicks and wheezes when an oak branch weighing about half a ton dropped across the drive so close behind the car that smaller branches were over the trunk. Had we driven up the drive about three seconds later, I hate to think about being smashed inside, not dead, but direly impaired, perhaps for life.
Miracles? Luck? You tell me.
P.S. I wasn’t there to witness it, but the aide who fed my mother at the Life Care Center told us that the day she died, she seemed more alert than usual (any alertness at all was unusual!). She seemed to be interested in eating (meaning sipping nutrient slop through a straw). Then, suddenly she looked up, and with the most radiant smile, she raised both arms, and then … slipped across to wherever. The miraculous part of this is that Mother’s right arm had been paralyzed for a couple of years. … I am grateful beyond words that the aide shared this scene. My eyes fill with tears each time I think of or tell the story.
Beautiful story, Sharon. What a gift your mother left you. Thanks so much for sharing.
I personally would claim those close calls as miracles,Sharon, not just luck. And you see sun dogs, too. I had never even heard of them until Pam mentioned them. I guess I’d better look up into the skies more!
Hi, Kathy. . . your comment about looking up reminded me of my friend Richard’s song, “On the Verge or a Miracle.” Hope you don’t mind that I shared it here:
“When the roads that you look down are all dead ends, Look up! You can see if you just look up. . .”
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g2wBkBq_OyA
Thanks for sharing Richard’s amazing music, Pam.
My late father was the one who pointed out sun dogs to me and yes, they’re fascinating and beautiful! I’m grateful they’re there, to remind me there’s a realm of mystery and miracle.
And yes, I, too, believe wholeheartedly in the miraculous. Like Sharon, I remember driving on an interstate once, when a car which was leaving the roadway suddenly decided not to, veered into my car, and pushed me up onto a wire construction fence. Terrified, I merely hung on and prayed. Eventually, my car came to rest, and a young Hispanic man helped me get out. I later learned my car was practically totaled. When I looked around to thank him, he was nowhere to be seen — and nobody else claimed to have seen him, either! An angel, perhaps? He was, to me!
Oh Debbie, Your story gives me chills-in a good way. And I believe in Angels, too. I’m so happy your were rescued that day. Pam has really touched upon something with these sun dogs. What a special memory for you that your father had pointed them out to you.
I think memoir is a perfect venue to write about miracles and other instances of what might perhaps be called altered states of consciousness. My spiritual memoir tells about several events of my own, events which could easily be considered as being mentally unstable (which is not necessarly a bad thing, by the way) but my therapist was adamant that I was as sane as anyone and much saner than some consdered to be sane. LOL Memoir is about YOUR experience, not a scientific treatise, nor is it even required to be held to what is considered “real.” It’s your experience and no one else can write what you’ve experienced except you. Whether you want to call it a miracle or an altered state, it’s as real as anything else and only you can tell about it.
Thanks for the affirmation, Sam. We live in an age of rationalism. Unfortunately, anyone who writes their miracle risks being called unstable. The very definition of miracle demands that it does not ordinarily happen. But we know how meaningful these extraordinary experiences can be. If we felt compelled to subtract from our writing everything that others couldn’t percieve, our memoirs would deliver only an empty shell–nothing to fill them with life.
Well-said, Sam “Your memoir is YOUR experience and no one else can write what you’ve experienced.” Amen!
I’m a believer in miracles and have witnessed more than my share. When I was in England in 1996, I witnessed “mother of pearl” or “nacreous clouds” in the February sky. They were amazing. It was as though God was pouring pots of pastel colors, pink, lavendar, blue, yellow, orange, from one end of the heavens to another. Deep called to deep that day for sure!
My father also had a number of prophetic dreams and mysterious gifts when he was dying at the age of 55. Those dreams later became my lived reality and took me into the world of believing in invisible realities beyond our ability to comprehend.
Thanks for sharing your story, Pam. I am not surprised to learn that many people have witnessed miracles. Speak your truth. The world needs to hear it.
I love your stories, Shirley and relate to the prophetic dreams your father had. Thanks so much for sharing.
I’ve never heard the term Sun Dogs. But I’ve seen one. In fact, my mother and I both saw it. We were in a plane at the time and saw it in the clouds. When we left the plane, I mentioned it to the stewardess. She got really excited and told the pilot. Turns out, pilots see them, though very rarely, and when they do, they consider it good fortune. They did have a name for it, but I can’t remember what it was.
I’ve experienced many miracles in my life. They occur all the time, but I’m not always paying attention. When my father, a WWII veteran, went to Honolulu to do an informal memorial for his friend, who died in his arms during the war, our small family went out to a pier to put a lei on the water. First, we read a memorial, written by a pastor, for Mal. What I hadn’t thought about was that Hawaii is a place of joyful vacationers. The pier was full of them; laughing, smiling, talking, yelling…all ages. And here we were doing this thing that was so somber.
I read the first few sentences quietly. But something happened in those few moments. A quiet spread over the crowded pier. A reverent hush fell upon every person there – even the children. Everyone was still and quiet. Even the surfers on the water below stopped. I can only explain it this way; we were walking on Holy Ground. Something happened there that was so holy, so spiritual, that every person there was affected. Even the flowers we laid on the water were part of it – going against the current, out to sea, in the direction of Okinawa, where Mal died. Yes, I believe in miracles. ~Karen
Karen, I recall that powerful scene from your memoir when you went to Honolulu for the memorial service. It was breathtaking. Thank you so much for sharing your miracle with us. I believe in miracles ,too.
Pam, your article is poignant and thought-provoking. I’ve enjoyed hearing about your experiences alongside those of the other commentors too. I agree with you: how can we deprive them (our readers) of our most transformative moments? I appreciate your point about using these experience in metaphor too.
Two favorite quotes I use in my memoir writing workshops speak directly to your ideas and questions:
“There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle.” ― Albert Einstein
and
“Miracles are a retelling in small letters of the very same story which is written across the whole world in letters too large for some of us to see.” ― C.S. Lewis
When I ask memoirists to approach their stories with these two points of light and wisdom, they can’t help but share these core pieces of their lives. Such writing prompts help them delve deeper than writing the mere anecdote. And many writers discover by doing so they also discover their purpose for being here on Earth at the particular time the story that transpired.
Thanks to you, too, Kathy, for hosting Pam’s insights! Kudos to you both!
Thanks so much for stopping by, Debra and for sharing those profound quotes. I appreciate your comments,particularly “In sharing core pieces of themselves..writers discover their purpose for being here on Earth.” Lovely!
Thank, you, Debra! I love those two quotes you cited. Our minds search for meaning, especially when we believe we are surrounded by meaninglessness. At the same time we understand the meaning of the miracle, as you say, we discover our purpose. We finally begin to read the miracle writ in larger letters across our lives.
Pam
YES, well said: “Our minds search for meaning, especially when we believe we are surrounded by meaninglessness.” Thanks for your insights, Pam.
I love this post…so much to think about. TY for sharing and encouraging us to open up so the truth can shine in our stories.
So nice to see you here, Rhonda! I love ,” letting truth shine in our stories”. I agree, Pam has done a great job of encouraging us all to be open to and share the miracles in our lives. Hope to see you again!