The Home Stretch

After tonight, I will start on a stretch of eight chapters with little or no changes to them, which will bring me within seven chapters of the end of the novel. This is definitely the home stretch for me. The plots have all been laid out. All that's left is the finish.

I've been sneaking up on the finish - trying to disguise how I feel about it by concentrating instead on my upcoming trip to Disney World. When each chapter that I complete is just another chapter, suddenly each word doesn't seem so monumentous. I'm so far beyond human nature at this point, that I've just stopped questioning the logic of what I do. If this is what it takes to finish the novel, then this is what I will do. I'll leave the why's for psychologists to debate after its done.

Had I the time to properly analyze how I felt about finally finishing this thing, the formula would certainly include a large dose of relief. I feel like the guy who has swam across the ocean. He is at first terribly relieved and overjoyed to see the shore, but then remembers that he still has to swim the last miles over the treacherous rocks to reach it. I don't want to stop and contemplate what I'm going to do once the warm sands of the beach are beneath my feet, but I know that resting will take up a large part of that.

Jesus had to know what was coming when He started His ministry. He was almost 30 years old and He knew that His teachings were going to change the world, and certainly bring about His death and resurrection. I wonder how He felt as He approached the end - was He worried about all the things He'd left unsaid, all the lessons that would be forgotten, whether His pupils would actually understand anything, how much pain He was about to endure?

Just as I posted earlier on Reginnings, there is a part of that cycle that we must remember - endings. Barry Bonds' career is winding down. TV shows are ending after long runs. Things come and go with regular frequency. Ariel reminded us the other day about the fragility of life and that our expectancy of life tomorrow may be extremely presumptive. I think we'd all like to end things on our own terms every time. We don't want the good times to end, we all want to make the bad times stop cold immediately. But we are only tiny specks of foam on giant waves that begin and end according to the will of another. Jesus knew the hour of his death and was able to make his death meaningful and the last week of his life extremely memorable. We should all aspire to do the same, even if we don't know when that last week will be.

So as I disappear into the cocoon of writing once again, I hope to finally emerge as a butterfly. The home stretch is a killer, but with faith and grace, we can be resurrected thereafter.