Dead End Disappointment

It was 6:00 o’clock Saturday evening. With headphones secured on my head, and my computer fired up and tuned into You Tube, I was ready. My daughter bustled making dinner in my husband’s family cottage kitchen. It would not be a disappointment as she had graciously agreed to take over the meal prep so I could attend online The 2024 Word Guild Awards ceremony. Her partner and my husband lounged and chatted, waiting for the timer on the oven to signal it was time to eat.

Weeks earlier, my book manuscript, God Quest: God Discovered in Everyday Places, had been short-listed for the category Castle Quay Books Best New Canadian Manuscript. After ten years of on-again, off-again efforts at attracting representation for my book, I barely believed the email when received listing my manuscript as a contender. I had to get my husband to read over the email before I believed the news. One of two prize options was publication. The Holy Grail for writers.

I am too old and too tempered by life for rampant excitement to frazzle my every waking thought and incapacitate my days with frenetic anticipation. But that’s not to say I didn’t indulge in a little daydreaming, sometimes catching myself foolishly smiling at nothing. I was delighted my book was one of eight to be chosen from submissions across Canada. Clearly, the writing had struck a chord in the hearts and minds of the selection committee. In the weeks leading up to the announcement, my emotions quietly hummed with joyful gratitude.

“Dear Lord, thank you for this opportunity. Thy kingdom come; thy will be done.”

I didn’t know God’s plan, but I always know it’s a good one.

Disappointment sounds like…

Attending a You Tube event was new to me. Live Zoom meetings and events are familiar, but it took me a few minutes to realize the ceremony I kept logging in and out of was pre-recorded. In trying to access the ceremony, I thought I had got it wrong. It was not a 6:00 p.m. live event, but an event posted live at 6:00 p.m. A big difference in my expectation.

I dabbed my brow realizing I wasn’t late in attending, and showing up not knowing what announcement I might have missed while floundering with the technology. Assured I was in the right place, I pressed the pre-recording once more and settled in to wait for my category to be announced.  

It seemed it was over before it had begun. The Castle Quay award was the third category on the list. As the presenter, Larry N. Willard, CEO of Castle Quay Books, listed the nominees, I smiled when he came to my name and apologetically offered two pronunciations of Paradis—Para-dee (French pronunciation) and Para-dice (English pronunciation). As a pre-recording, I couldn’t unmute my mic to offer the preferred pronunciation in French, but I was pleased he was apologetic and sufficiently aware of the difference. Perhaps he had even read my book.

And then, the announcement. My eyes glued to the screen, my ears tuned to the sound through my earphones, and my back upright in my chair, I leaned in focusing hard on hearing the first hard-cracking sound of the letter c in my first name, that first kah sound to slide from Larry’s lips. Except, the kah sound never came.

Instead, it was a “s” sound, a suh not a kah. Susanne Dobbin.

Frozen Disappointment

I sat frozen, looking at the screen but barely registering the subsequent video interview that played. Half way through the clip, I realized the woman in the video was Susanne, explaining the premise of her book Raising the Dead and how grateful she was to receive the award. It was a riveting near-future fictional narrative – a brilliant scientist being manipulated; forces of good and evil battling over bio-medical nano technology; underlying Christian themes exploring the dark night of the soul and fighting against mis-use and evil influences. I could see why she had won.

The reel ended and the next category of nominees was being announced. Still pretending to follow the proceedings as the presenters’ words washed over me, I didn’t look up from my screen. It was too soon to reveal the news to my family. I needed time for the disappointment to settle in the pit of my stomach; to compose my internal world. I didn’t want anyone to see how much I cared.

Why do we always want more?

I am a grown woman, moving into my senior years. Disappointment is not new to me. This was only one of many. But, even momentarily, the sting of a letdown was sharp. I have been pushing this elephant up hill for years; this quest to have my manuscript published.

Validation is such an important part of who we are as human beings. But why do our egos need such constant stroking? We are so fragile. Shouldn’t God’s love for us be enough? Why do we always want more?

“Thy kingdom come; thy will be done,” I whispered in my head before looking up to catch the question mark in my daughter’s eyes as she paused in her dinner preparations.

“Any news?” was the unspoken query.

“I didn’t win.” 

Breaking out of my frozen state, I shrugged my shoulders, got up, and wandered over to help with the dinner before I added, “Another deserving author, Susanne Dobbin, won for her book Raising the Dead.”

“How do you feel?” my daughter gently asked.

I paused; clearly, the disappointment was still marked on my face, and fresh.

“Let down, of course,” I responded, then added, “but I remember what Kim* said this week when she called. That being nominated was a win in itself. That the writing must have resonated for the selection committee to have chosen my book for consideration. Maybe she’s right.”

The sting was already losing its bite. There were so many people who had enjoyed my blog writing and were supportive in my writing journey. Their encouragement had so often kept me going. I could not allow my disappointment to cloud their gift. There was much to be grateful for, and I was.

No Disappointment in God’s Scope & Breadth

One of the beginning stories in my book God Quest: God Discovered in Everyday Places speaks about the scope and breadth of God’s design in our lives; that it is so broad we, as individuals, are not positioned to see His view from the pinnacle. We are stationed on the ground, in the deep forest. It is God who can see the forest for the trees ꟷ a spectacular vista ꟷ and that we are one integral part of many in a burgeoning, beautiful jungle. A complex ecosystem that is interconnected even when we can’t see the connections.

Each of us holds a place in this system, however small it may seem in our view. Maybe we are not the crown of a tree in this forest. The first to receive a kiss of sunlit glory in the morning or the first drop of rain to quench our unrelenting thirst. Maybe we are the tree trunk in the middle. The strong backbone holding up the tree limbs, or the roots that keep the tree grounded and secure. Or the birds that flit limb to limb, dropping seeds to the ground in a journey that will fuel future growth. Maybe we are the creatures that forage, keeping vegetation cropped to spur regrowth. Perhaps we exist as a fragile flower on the forest floor, still and fixed in place, overshadowed by the looming trees but feeding others with our nectar, giving of our inherent beauty to nourish.

Spending more time at the family cottage this summer, I am becoming ever more aware of the intrinsic connections rooted in nature. So often, God speaks to me through his creation. My understanding continues to grow through programs and workshops put on by the Georgian Bay Biosphere Mnidoo Gamii.

The Forest Biosphere

So, I may not be the tip of a tree receiving a first kiss of sunlit glory, but I am part of the forest. Like the other writers nominated in my category who did not win: Cheryl E. Bristol, Andrea Sellen Kell, Sharlene Olson, Deborah A.M. Phillips, Helena St. Martin, and Lori Zenker, with Mike Zenker. They, too, are part of the forest.

My disappointment must not linger. I am an integral part of a larger body–a biosphere of Christian communion, and much more. I have a part I hold that is mine, however insignificant it might seem, and even when I can’t fully see what that is.

That is enough comfort for now; enough energy to fuel this blog post, and by God’s grace, hopefully the next.

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*A friend who recently telephoned out of the blue; we hadn’t talked in ages.

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