The Japanese MK's Guide to Crossing the Street

Hello, anyone who actually reads this blog.  I have been away for awhile because I have been focusing on my fiction writing, which I'm not comfortable posting on this blog as I want to publish it in a book one day.



Anyway, in the past few months, I have been doing a lot more walking.  This is mostly because I now live in a small town where things are closer to home/I don't have to worry as much about crazy people.  This has brought to mind the fact that I kind of use Japanese pedestrian rules over American ones or combine them.  For example, I have no idea which side of the street I am supposed to walk on when there is no sidewalk, so I just kind of use whatever side I want.  But, even more, when you walk a lot more, you cross the street a lot more, which means you have an opportunity to use the mad skills you acquired over years of living in a country with a looser definition of this thing called "jaywalking."



1.  The proper place to cross the street is wherever there is a large enough gap between cars.  I believe the technical rule is at the corner, but sometimes...

I mean, if there is a perfectly opportune moment for me to cross the street right now, why should I go chasing all the way to the corner before crossing.  Now, what constitutes a proper-sized gap?  This is based on the speed limit, whether you are on bicycle or foot, how many/the ages of people are in your group, and how fast you are already riding your bicycle.



2.  Green man walking means cross; red man standing means cross if there are no cars nearby.  Sometimes, the light just takes too long to turn, and there's no cars closing in immediately, so why wait?  Once again, using the parameters above to determine whether or not it is safe to cross when using the second method.

3. If you do decide to wait for the light to turn green, wait for the little birdie to start chirping.  Not available at all crosswalks.  Sound of birdie chirps may vary.

4.  As a child, raise your hand over your head when you cross the street.  This helps the cars see you.  Also, this is something you totally forget in America because your parents never made you do it anyway.  However, when they are making you walk a lot in a big city, that is a perfect time to spontaneously remember and start doing it, much to your mom's embarrassment.

Thank you random person on the Internet who posted this.

5.  When crossing a street with cars coming, cross quickly at first, slowly later.  You will absolutely in no way bother my dad by doing this.  Nor will you hold up traffic.  After all, they have nowhere to go anyway.  And I most definitely do not catch myself doing this nowadays. *shifty eyes



6.  Tired of crossing the street?  Simply walk in the middle.  With the small yard sizes in Japan, you probably spent some time playing in the streets as a child anyway.  So now as an adult, you find it acceptable to walk right down the middle of the road.  Or bicycle.  Or walk while pushing your bicycle.  Do not evacuate the road until you realize a car is driving slowly behind you.  Then step off to the side.  Preferably look dazed like, "Whoa, there are vehicles in the street."



So, there you go:  six simple steps to crossing the street.  Please, by all means, ignore them if you are in America.  Unless you are walking with me.  No, wait, then still follow American rules and save me from potentially doing something terrible one day.

Holes and Fires

I actually own the movie book cover.

I don't think most of my friends from college know why it's such a big deal that Holes is one of my favorite movies.  I mean, it's a funny movie, lots of people like it.  It completely makes sense someone my age would like it.  I read the book when my best friend sent it to me for my birthday or Christmas or something, and then my family bought the movie.

And I fell in the movie just as much, despite the changes that were made.  I was nearly fourteen when I watched it, and from the first viewing, I was convinced it was one of the best movies ever.

But there was a several month period when I couldn't bring myself to watch it.  I can't believe it's been seven years since that time period.  I mean, sometimes I forget that time happened.

When I was a junior in high school, I woke up one morning to find out someone had set my school on fire.  I mean, it wasn't really my school because I was being homeschooled in Japan six thousand miles away.  But it was the school where my friends went, where some of the best memories of my life were.  I had most recently attended it the school year before--my sophomore year.  That was a fun year.  Anyway, the good news--if there was any--was that the school didn't burn all the way thanks to the flame retardant carpet.  "Only" two rooms were burnt.

As the full story began to transpire, I don't think I can say I was surprised to find out who set the fire.  The hardest part for me was that one of the guys involved--the guy who actually set the fire--was the younger brother of a guy who I had a crush on.

I remember kneeling next to the heater a lot for most of that day, blinking back tears.  No words could express how I felt that day.  Everything just felt wrong.  I woke up three or four times during the night, unable to sleep for more than a couple hours.

And then, a week and four days later, I wrote the poem:

Nothing is right anymore.

Things shall never be the same.

And old era is gone.  A new is begun.

Much is the same, but some has changed.

Some is the same, but much has changed.

It all depends on who you are,

And how much you know.

I wish life could be good again

That I knew smiles would last.

But every day my mind reminds me

That things have changed forevermore.

But someday things may be right again

Although the scars remain.

Such hope can still last in this world

Although everything seems wrong.

True enough all things have changed,

And they shall never be the same,

But in eternity this just might be

A small trial preparing me.

Who knows what the larger trial shall be.

Only God can see that near or far.

But looking back I then shall see

That through it all, God was preparing me.

Yeah, not my best poetry looking back on it, but it expressed exactly how I felt that day.

Was it a few weeks or a couple months that passed?  I can't remember.  Anyway, of course, a couple of the guys got put in jail or something, including the younger brother of the guy I liked.  I don't remember a ton anymore.  I think I tried to forget at times.  It's still hard for me to talk about.

Well, one day, my other best friend came over to visit, and she wanted to watch Holes because she knew how much I loved it.  I eagerly put it in into my bedroom DVD player that night, excited to share one of my fictional worlds with someone else.  But then, part way through a movie about boys at a prison camp, I couldn't take it anymore.  I went downstairs to my mom in tears, triggered by watching one of the scenes where the guys were shoving each other around.  I got worried something like that would happen to the guy I knew.  Mom prayed with me,and we turned the movie off.

And it stayed off.  For months.  I would look at its case and wish I could watch it again.  I wanted that to happen.  I wanted to move on.  I wanted everything to be normal again, where I could watch Holes and just enjoy it for the movie it is.

And so, a few weeks after this guy was released, we watched Holes.  Before this happened, I read all the way through the book for the eighth time or so, and I made it just fine.  And that day, as we watched Holes, although it wasn't easy still, I made it--no tears.

Every single time I watch it, it gets easier.  After graduating college, I found the movie in the five dollar bin at Walmart and eagerly scooped it up, ecstatic to be able to pick up such a great movie for so cheap.

So where am I at compared to seven years ago?  Sometimes, I can make it through Holes just fine--not even thinking about the experience I went through.  Other times, like today, I go back.  But no more tears, no more fear.  Holes once again is one of my favorite films.  I can quote it with you like crazy and laugh or be emotionally touched by the story of Miss Katherine and Sam:

"Once upon a time, there was a magical place that never rained.  The End."

"But if you forget to come back for Madame Zeroni, your family will be cursed for always and eternity."

"If only if only the woodpecker sighs, the bark on the trees was as soft as the skies..."

"I don't smell anything!"

"I can fix that."

But sometimes, I'll still pull back a bit--there's certain parts that can be especially difficult still--but that's okay.  I'm okay.  I can't let something that didn't even directly involve me hold me down forever and keep me from enjoying what I love.  I'm going to keep moving forward, and although I will probably never forget how I felt during that time, I can't let it define me forever.

The Journey of a History Person

It all started because of Toy Story.  What an unlikely place to start a journey that culminated in me preferring to listen to men talk of tales of war than listen to women chat about normal, nice boring things other teenage girls would prefer.  But, yes, the story of this history person starts with Toy Story.

Like many families, my family got caught up in the Toy Story merchandise craze.  My little brother had Buzz, Woody, Rex, Slinky, Mr. Potato Head, etc. on down the line.  And I, desiring to be thorough, donated my Raggedy Andy doll to the mix because you need Andy if you're going to play Toy Story.  But something was missing:  Andy's little sister.

So I told my parents we needed Molly.  All I meant was we needed a doll I could name Molly, so we could have all the Toy Story characters.  In my six- or- seven-year-old mind, this was a logical request.  Next time we went to Toys R Us, we could get a Molly.

Instead, my mom came up with something better.  She reminded me how my friends (who were older than me) had American Girl dolls, and she somehow knew one of those dolls was named Molly.  I already had received a copy of Meet Samantha from a pen pal in America, so we did what one had to do back in the days of dial up connection and snail mail catalogs:  we tore out the order form and requested Pleasant Company to send us our catalog in the mail.

The day it came, and for many days and months afterward, I spent hours pouring over that catalog and the catalogs that followed.  But I always came back to Molly.  This was my dream doll.  My mom kept trying to redirect me to Kirsten because Kirsten looked like me.  But, no, I insisted I had to have Molly.  And all the books.  But for a doll, I needed Molly.

I saved up all my money for Christmas.  Every dollar that ever got sent to me, I turned right over to my parents saying it was for Molly.  Two dollars here, five dollars there.  I doubt I really raised most of the $80 it took to purchase her, but Christmas morning, I opened up my Molly doll--the most precious doll of my life.  And, furthermore, as I began reading through her books, I became slowly immersed in the era of World War II.

Granted, as I said, I'd already read Samantha.  But I didn't have a Samantha doll.  I had Molly.  So it is not Samantha's fault I was gradually sucked into the world of history.  It was Molly's.  World War II became the most important event in the history of ever, and as I read more American Girl books, things only got crazier as I began to ask questions like, "Is anyone still alive from the Civil War?"  (If people were still alive from World War II, then why couldn't people be alive from another one of the wars I'd learned about?)

Historical fiction became my favorite genre, although history was not my favorite subject in elementary school.  I much preferred reading.  History was okay, but it was little more than a footnote in my school day.

And then came junior high.

I flicked on my Bob Jones HomeSat videotape and within days found myself in love with my history teacher Mrs. Fagan.  Until college, no other history teacher managed to get me that invested in my history class.  No other teacher through twelfth grade could ever compare.  But after her, the teacher wasn't necessary.  I was hooked.  History gradually overtook reading as my favorite subject as I found myself enjoying, dare I say yearning, to learn more and more about this wonderful world.  The past drew me in like a fisherman with a hook.  I took in my lessons like a sponge.

My parents only encouraged me, especially my dad, who watched History Channel with me and introduced me to World War II films.  I was enamored with the past in a way that only other history people would understand.  I found myself more comfortable in a discussion about history than yet another boring conversation about whatever it is women talk about.  Honestly, half the things we women talk about when we're together is so boring, I forget it all.  But tell me a story of history, and although I may not remember our exact conversation, I will remember it was fascinating and intellectually stimulating.

And then came age sixteen where I read the Cheney Duvall series, and I found myself drawn into the world of Reconstruction and thus the Civil War.  And that was the final blow.  At this point, I became a full blown history person.  I have remained a Civil War buff to this day.

In college, I found myself once again with an amazing history teacher, which turned into an amazing series of history teachers after I applied for a history minor.  Now I was no longer someone who liked history.  I could legitimately carry the title of history person.  I could go to the history movie nights and had legitimate reasons to make history references all day long if I wanted.

And now I find myself teaching history for half of my school day.  It is a wonderful job, and oddly enough, I may not have been fascinated with the subject I am if someone at Pixar hadn't decided to name one minor character in a movie Molly.

My Days of Piano Playing

Once upon a time, just like most people, I was six years old.  And when I was six years old, I started learning to play piano.

You see, we'd moved into this house that had a piano, so Mom decided to teach me.  Which was fine.  I wanted to learn.  Unfortunately, it didn't go over as a complete success, meaning after about three years and a move, I kind of stopped.  In those three years, I managed to get through one book and a bit into the next book.

Clearly, music was not part of my future career, although I did have fun sometimes.  The rest of the time was me getting frustrated because I couldn't just do this automatically.

Random fact:  If I don't get something automatically, I tend to get very frustrated and practically need someone to keep pushing me to keep going.

Anyway, I'm sure my musically inclined friends are interested in knowing what in the world this was like.

Well, first of all, I remember something about "All Cows Eat Grass," "Good Boys Do Fine Always," "Every Good Boy Does Fine," and "FACE."  However, if you want me to remember which ones belong on treble clef and bass clef, you will be left standing there for five minutes while I close my eyes and basically go into my deep thinking zone until I finally remember.  And don't talk or try to help while I'm thinking.

Seriously, though, I actually have more musical knowledge than I let on stored in my head.  I just pretend to be stupid because it wouldn't be fair if I appeared to be a genius about something I'm not even good at.  But I'm not kidding when I say I can't tell a violin from a viola.  That is the truth.

What is the difference?  Who cares?  Why can't I remember this for more than ten seconds?  I don't even understand how these are two different instruments.

Anyway, that is completely off topic.  Anyway, just know that the video evidence of me playing piano sounds writhingly terrible.  Seriously, I found the video when I was about 16 and wanted to plug my ears.  I was that terrible.

You know what made it worse though?  Sometimes, I just had to sing while trying to play.  Now, my mom told me, "This isn't something you should be trying yet.  This is difficult."  But, seriously, at age six, can you honestly play "Jesus Loves Me" without having to sing it sometimes?  Like, seriously, sometimes, I just had to sing the song.  And I couldn't just sing or just play.  No, I had to unleash my off-key singing and piano plunking skills at the exact same moment because I HAD TO SING!

So, in other words, another thing that probably didn't help was the fact I was too ambitious because I couldn't just keep quiet when I wanted to sing the song I was playing.  We do not have video evidence of me attempting this feat, but I assure you, it happened.

Anyway, as I said, when I was nine, we moved, and piano lessons kind of stopped.  After age twelve, I stopped almost completely.  Once, I even forgot where Middle C was.  I had to go and literally count how many white keys there were and then go back and count along half that many to find Middle C.  Literally, you want to talk about people who stink at music, and I will volunteer.  Basically, my musical knowledge goes something like this:
"List all the classical composers you know."
"Beethoven, Bach, Handel, Mozart, Mendelssohn, Brahms, Schubert, Liszt, Tchaikovsky, and...about half these guys are Romantic or Neoclassical, aren't they?  I KNEW IT!  Why can't I keep my composers straight?"

Look, it's a bunch of guys with funny hair!

Ahem, anyway, let's just say I have good reasons for quitting piano playing.  Trust me, the world is a better place for it.

Also, "glockenspiel" totally sounds like it should be some sort of German food and not an instrument that I don't even know what it looks like. *Googles

Wait, why isn't this a xylophone?  HELP ME!

If Superheroes Joined Northland Societies

Ah, remember the old days when Northland had societies you had to join, and, like, some of us got really dedicated and wound up as officers because no one else would run?  Yeah, I miss societies.  In fact, thinking of societies reminds me of that one time my friend Sarah and I placed every superhero we could think of in societies at Northland.

So, in order for this to be realistic (because superheroes at Bible college is so realistic), three things must be kept in mind:
1.  All stereotypes of societies are taken from the years 2008-2011, when I was at Northland.  (Yes, I stereotyped your society.)
2.  Superheroes were not allowed to use their powers during society rush.
3.  I didn't bother to make everything equal.  Just whoever it best in a society, was stuck there.  I did try to make sure every society, or at least one half of the society, was covered.

So, in alphabetic order (and a few supervillains sneaked in):

Aquaman--Dreisbach.  He's virtually useless, kind of like Dreisbach.  (And I just lost the Dreisbachs, but I promise you, you do get some cool ones.)
Batman--Brainerd.  He's really a toss up between Carey and Brainerd, and I like to imagine he basically wound up in Brainerd because Carey is full.
Black Widow--Judson.  She and Hawkeye totally coordinated their society choices.
Captain America--Spurgeon.  Just, yes, Captain America is a total Spurgeon.
Cyclops--Carey.  He's kind of one of those more borderline Carey guys though, where you're not quite sure why they're in Carey, but you can't imagine them anywhere else.
Deadpool--Brainerd.  But really, I can also imagine him paying $50 every semester to switch societies so he doesn't stay allied with one group for too long.  But, really, he'd so join Brainerd to start off with.
Elastigirl--Carmichael.  Joined it because of where Mr. Incredible went.
Flash--Carey.  Because he's red.
Frozone--Carey.  He and Mr. Incredible are best friends, so they would join the same society.
Green Lantern--Champlin.  Basically, because he's green, and I don't know much about him.  Kind of like Champlin.
Hawkeye--Judson.  He and the Black Widow totally coordinated their society choices.
Human Torch--Carey.  Because wasn't y'all's mascot like the Flames or something?  Yeah, he'd totally join.
Incredible Hulk--Champlin.  Once again, the whole green thing.  Also, he totally accidentally Hulked out during Rush, which got him held back until he was calmed down.
Invisible Woman--Slessor.  She and Mr. Fantastic totally chose their societies together.
Iron Man--Carey.  Once again, this is a close call between Carey or Dreisbach, but the suit is red, so he's in Carey.
Jean Grey--Dreisbach.  She was basically placed here out of gratitude for Sarah granting me someone to my society.
Loki--Carey.  He totally broke the "no powers" rule and jumped to the front of the line, being the first to sign up for Carey.
Magneto--Brainerd.  Get it?  Join the Brotherhood.
Mr. Fantasic--Brainerd.  He and Invisible Woman totally chose their societies together.
Mr. Incredible--Carey.  Joined it because of where Elastigirl went.
Mystique--Slessor.  They're totally going to hate me for this.
Professor X--Spurgeon.  Just, yes.  He totally was in this.
Spider-Man--Carey.  But he's totally one of those Carey guys you wonder why they didn't end up in Spurgeon.
Storm--Carmichael.  Quite honestly, she was kind of hard to place, but I think she'd ultimately choose Carmichael.
Superman--Spurgeon.  Once again, no thought was put into this.  He would join Spurgeon.
The Thing--Dreisbach.  I don't know why.  Just, Dreisbach.
Thor--Dreisbach.  This was a tough choice, but I think Thor would spend too much time asking questions about what societies are and wind up at the back of the line, forcing him into Dreisbach.
Wolverine--Judson.  Does this need an explanation?  He lives in the woods and has worked as a lumberjack.  (Also, his placement is Judson is what got Jean Grey placed in Dreisbach.)
Wonder Woman--Slessor.  And...I've probably got a bunch of Slessorites (Slessorans?) mad at me for this one too.

So, there it is.  I don't think this is evenly split at all, and it's definitely not exhaustive.  Some of them I just didn't know at all, so I didn't do them.  Others were left out because I forgot they existed.  If you want my opinions on any other superhero placement in societies, simply use the comments section below to suggest a superhero, and I will respond.  Or, if you want to suggest your own or totally argue with my choices, you can comment that as well.

Why American Winters Are So Weird To Me

Hello, everyone.  I am checking in from a very snowy Indiana.  Apparently, they don't normally get this much snow here.  Odd.  This isn't a normal winter?

Actually, I find the American concept of winter extremely odd.  You know why?

BECAUSE I COME FROM A PLACE THAT GETS TWENTY FEET OF SNOW A YEAR!

No, like, literally.  Once the temperature gets below freezing, it stays below freezing, and that snow that fell in November isn't going to melt until somewhere around April.  On the mountains, it's going to wait until June or so.  Then we have two weeks of summer during which we all summarily die of heat related problems until a cool wind blows in and the yukimushi (snow bugs) begin to fly, warning us another winter is ahead.

Seriously, we have bugs that show up about two weeks before the first snow falls.

So, with this information in mind, I'm sure you'll understand why I find it strange when:
1)  The temperature reads anything above zero Celsius (thirty-two Fahrenheit) after December arrives.
2)  I see yards full of green grass anytime before March.
3)  Anyone complains about the roads not being plowed.

Because, seriously, that is what twenty feet of snow looks like.  You don't even see the pavement half the time during winter.  Everyone just kind of squishes it down (everyone has winter tires and four wheel drive on Hokkaido; if you don't, you're probably from Tokyo) and chugs along with life.  Granted, I never had a Japanese driver's license and never had to operate in said conditions, but you can bet if life was like that all the time, I'd go along with the flow.

Which brings me to the six seasons of Hokkaido

1.  Pre-Winter--This starts when the yukimushi begin to fly.  Usually, the leaves haven't even begin to turn yet.  Hey, some years, we get our first flurries before fall colors happen.  This is when people begin to think about switching over to the winter tires, digging the shovels out of storage, and checking to make sure the snow blowers and snow melters work.

Snow melter:  Simply throw snow in specially designed hole in ground...

...and allow the hot water to melt all your troubles away.

2.  Winter--You just know when it's the first snow that's going to stick.  The weatherman has had the little snowman icon on his weekly forecast for days now.  The temperatures are all ideal for winter to truly begin.  And it does.  The flakes fly thick and fast and stick to the ground.  Whether it's powder snow or packing snow, the sticking snow has come.  Welcome to November (or early December if it's a pathetic winter).  Snow shoveling now becomes everyone hobby simply to get out of the house in the morning.  Snow piles as tall as people begin to form on the street corners.  Still, life goes on.

3.  Still Winter--It's February.  You would be getting sick of winter, but it's FESTIVAL SEASON!  Yes, that's right.  We love winter so much, we have festivals about it, in which we carve gigantic sculptures of snow and ice, and just when we're about frozen, we go into warming houses and eat food.

Asahikawa Winter Festival 2007

Sounkyo Ice Fall Festival 2007

Sapporo Snow Festival 2004

Yes, basically, we just go obsessive at this time of winter and rake in the money from the tourists, who we also summarily whine about as they crowd up the Asahiyama Zoo.  But, really, we know we need them.  If only they would get brains and dress warmer.

4.  Does Anyone Remember What Grass Looks Like?  It's March.  The tourists have gone.  The snow sculptures are demolished.  Now comes the bleak wait for the snow to melt.  We try to ignore the reminders of how warm Tokyo is right now.  In fact, we mock the Tokyo-ans as they whine about how cold it is because a millimeter of snow fell, and it's a balmy three degrees right now.  "Samui [Cold]!" exclaims the little old woman they interview on the TV.  We all roll our eyes, and go top off the kerosene in the heaters.  No end is in sight for us.

Even the freaks on this map who are about to have a sunny day are rolling their eyes.

5.  Melting--Suddenly, one day in April, the weatherman does nothing but predict sun and clouds for the rest of the week.  And, somehow, the sun manages to peak through the clouds and begin raining its beams down to earth again, slowly melting the gigantic snow piles that have been accumulating for the past five months.  By May, the cherry blossoms are finally in full bloom, one or two months behind everyone else.

Cherry tree that was outside my bedroom window growing up

Spring, or the closest thing we will experience, has arrived.  However, in the lumber yards and the snow dumping sites and upon the mountain peaks, a few rogue snow piles still linger, holding out against all hope that maybe this year they will not die!  Maybe they will finally make it to September this year!  Maybe they will last twelve months!  But by June, spring has whispered them away.

6.  How Does Tokyo Stand More Than Two Weeks of This Heat?  Spring is over, and summer has begun.  It is July.  And all of a sudden, we hit a heat wave!  With temperatures maxing out at a whopping thirty Celsius (eighty-six Fahrenheit), we turn in desperation to shaved ice and soft cream to ease the pain of this equatorial vortex afflicting us.  Seriously, Tokyo, how do you survive it being this temperature all summer long?  It's miserable.  Even worse, you are apparently wearing long sleeves when you visit because you feel "cold"!  I'm in my short sleeves and capris and feeling like I'm about to subliminate!  Honestly, why do these temperatures exist?  Is there any relief out there?  Oh wait, look, I think I see snow on the mountain peaks...

And now you see why I don't understand this whole snowing-then-melting process over a three-to-four month time span that the upper continental United States seems to experience.  I'm used to five to six months of nonstop winter.  It just goes on and on, with nearly no end in sight.  And, in a way, we like it.  I mean, it's terribly inconvenient at times, but overall, we have bonded with our winter and made it into a celebration.  And an opportunity to mock anyone who lives in Tokyo and any other warm places of Japan.  Because we are Hokkaido, and this is what happens when you settle an island full of political prisoners and other undesirables.  You get the tundra version of Australia with fewer marsupials and more bears!

Author's Note:  The writer of this blog does acknowledge that long sleeves are necessary in November in Tokyo.  However, it's the long sleeves under the winter coat that early in the year in such moderate temperatures that grant her some concern about your collective sanity.

What Being a Writer Taught Me About God

If I said "Tell me what happened in your life in September 2001," most people would tell you all about September 11th and the impact it had on them.  Maybe some people would talk about how they got married that month and others would talk about how that was the day their child was born.  However, for the average person, we associate that month with one event.

However, I am one of those that is an exception.  September 2001, indeed, brings to my mind the images of smoke billowing from the Twin Towers in New York City.  I was eleven years old, and I remember many things clearly.  However, one other big life event happened to me that month:  that was the month I began to write.

The stories had been floating around in my head for years and years, ever since I can remember, but for me, the time had now come where gel pen must be applied to notebook, and the story must begin to take shape.

Approximately six drafts and over twelve years later, I'm still not any closer to publishing the first book of that series, but that's okay.  Over time, I have grown as a writer, and I've grown closer to God through my writing.  Believe it or not, writing fiction and inventing things has actually taught me more about God than I would have ever thought.

1.  God's Will vs. What God Allows to Happen--This is kind of an unusual one, but I learned it while writing.  If you are as close to your characters as I am, you become their friend.  You created them out of your own head, and you are in charge of your little world.  If you decide to move an entire town to another state, then you are free to do that.  You are free to kill off characters, and you are free to decide certain characters are unnecessary and delete them before anyone ever sees anything.  No one will ever know a certain character existed if you never admit you created them.  You choose which stories about your characters are important enough to print.  In short, a fiction writer is the god of his/her own world.  But at the same time, your characters (and please do not think I am insane as other writers have experienced this) have their own personalities and sometimes make their own decisions.  I kid you not, I have argued with fictional characters over what I want them to do.  Sometimes, in the end, no matter how much I want them to do the right thing, they'll end up doing the wrong thing, and I am then left with a huge mess to help them sort out, which could have been completely avoided if they had just listened to me in the first place!  Now, am I in control of my characters?  Yes, just as God is in control of all that happens to me.  But must I sometimes let my characters do what they want?  Yes, I have to, just like God lets me do stupid things sometimes so that I learn what is best.  If my characters always did it the way I wanted them too, they would never grow.  Either way, I am in control.

2.  An Increased Appreciation for God's Creative Ability--I mean, seriously, God has made a wonderful world, and He seriously is always going to be a dozen times more creative than me because He's Almighty God, and I'm just ordinary human Katrina.  But, seriously, I have to pour hours upon hours (days upon days, years upon years) into creating a character, trying to decide what he will look like, develop a personality, figure out family dynamics, create his house/school, arrange friendships among other characters in the story, etc.  It is an exhausting process, and you know how much time it takes God to do all that for me?  I mean, from before time began, He knew all this about me, about every person on this planet.  He created a world out of nothing--a real, physical world.  I'm trying to create a mental world, which I can only use words to describe (due to the fact I couldn't draw a picture to save my life), and it drives me insane sometimes.

3.  God's Perfect Plan--Occasionally, I am called to a very difficult and delicate task in writing:  namely that of killing off a character.  I usually know when I create a character whether they will die or not, although within the past six months, I have killed off two characters that I didn't think I would kill when I invented them.  However, killing off characters is never something that leaves your other characters untouched.  In some cases, because I write Christian fiction, they begin to question if God even cares about them.  They wonder why things happen sometimes, even if they are upset about something not related to death.  They cry and become upset, and I as the author can't come to them and say, "It's okay.  I'm going to make things better.  Wonderful things are coming, but I need to get you through this first."  Even though I have the ability to jump ahead to several years in their future when everything comes together, and they see how life is okay, when I am writing that scene, I cannot let them know that.  (Once again, please do not think I am insane because I have this sort of relationship with my characters.  Other authors have experienced this same connection.)  In this same way, God has always known exactly what will happen in my life.  He has planned it all.  In a certain way, my characters trust me to know what is best.  When I "talk" to them, I sometimes have to assure them, "Don't worry.  I have a plan.  Trust me."  Is this not the same thing God frequently has to tell us as Christians?  That He has planned it all and that we just need to trust Him to get us through?  He has seen the end, and He knows how he will guide us.

4.  Gratitude That God Is Never Surprised--Honestly, no matter how much I tell my characters, "I have a plan," there are times when I seriously don't know what's going on.  I know Point A and Point Z, but it's B through Y that's all a little fuzzy.  Furthermore, there are times when all of a sudden an idea will hit me, and I'm like, "Oh, yes, this is wonderful!"  Then I go and plunge my characters into a situation, and after I come out of my "This is awesome!" reverie, I all of a sudden realize I have no idea how in the world I'm going to get them out of this or how this even relates to the greater story.  Hey, I've even had revelations about certain characters not being saved, which usually results in me popping open the laptop or putting myself into the "Do Not Disturb" thinking mode until I can come up with a salvation story for them.  But, you know what?  God is never shocked by anything that happens in my life.  He never has moments where He says, "What in the world am I going to do?"  As an author who can barely be god of her own characters some days, the fact that I am constantly in the care of a God who can never be surprised by anything is utterly amazing.  The freakouts I have that leave me wanting to pull my hair out are something He never has to experience because He is perfectly in control.