The table we made was not actually stable. The part professionally assembled—the table top—was solid, but the frame was wobbly, swoony, prone to dancing with sporadic, awkward movements, like a suburban mom trying Zumba for the first time.
I’ve called God faithful, but what I really meant was that God was cooperating with my well laid plans. But what about the times of waiting? What about periods of longing rather than gratification?
After a tidal wave of rejections, I stopped working on the book and took a job as a technical writer. I let my writing dreams hibernate for a while and it felt like a relief. A year and half later, at the exact moment I could not have been thinking about writing any less, my father-in-law introduced me to a new publisher friend of his.