Deborah Anderson

In 2000, Deborah Anderson left the medical field to care for her elderly mother. Soon after, she began writing. Her articles have appeared in Cross Times, Focus on the Family, Sisters in the Lord, Riders and Reapers, Rainbow Faith, FaithWriters’ Books, FaithWriters’ Magazine, and the bulletins for Dayspring Foursquare Church. She is a member of TWV, ACFW, CWG, and FCW and is currently working on her first novel. Married 29 years, Deborah and her husband enjoy country living in the Midwest. She also spends her time rescuing cats, reading novels, and taking nature walks. You can contact Deborah at DAnderson955 [at] aol [dot] com.

Taking Down the Giants

I’ve gone and done it this time. I recently signed up to finish a novel in thirty days. I mean, is this even possible? I’ve heard of others doing this, so maybe it is doable.

Last month I realized I’d been sabotaging myself because of fear of success, thanks to my dear husband, so I decided to take the bull by the horns and finish a work in progress. I’ve heard of others writing a book in thirty days, so it could happen, right? That’s why I jumped on board for this madness. I’ll see what transpires by the end of the month.

My husband, who has apparently been waiting for this moment to arrive, doesn’t think I’ve lost my faculties at all. When I told him of my decision, he said, “It’s about time,” which I’ve heard him say before. It’s as though the man loves to push me, I tell you.

You know, I wonder how he’d feel if I followed him around with a cattle prod, saying, “It’s about time. Moo.”

Ain’t love grand?

Anyway, we recently visited my elderly mother, who is in the nursing home. As I attempted to tell Mom about my upcoming project, my husband jumped in. “She’s stopped being a Caleb and has become a Joshua.”

Prod. Prod.


Gee, thanks, honey. I feel all warm and fuzzy now.

Mom nodded and smiled, while I screamed inside, Don’t encourage him further, Mom. You’ll create a monster.

I craned my neck toward my husband. “Excuse me?”

“You know, Joshua and Caleb?

I rolled my eyes. “I know who they are, but what’s your point?”

He leaned back against the counter and folded his arms. “When Joshua and Caleb spied out the Promised Land, Joshua wanted to take it but Caleb was afraid. Caleb saw all those giants and retreated, but Joshua said, ‘We can take them.’”

I wanted to stick my fingers in my ears and sing, La, la, la, la, la.

“Okay.” I eyed him. “So which one am I?”

“Well … you were Caleb …”

I jiggled my knee. Tread softly, my little dumpling.

“But you’re Joshua now.”


He continued. “You’ve finally decided to face your fears and take down the giants.”

I started to agree with him and tell him I had, but I knew better. “No, I’m just going to walk around them and ignore them, is all.”

“At least you’re moving now.”

Prod. Prod.


I turned back to Mom. “So, how was your day today?”

She answered, but I don’t remember much of what she said. I suddenly didn’t feel like talking.

On the way home, I pondered the conversation, which can be dangerous for a person like me. I thought about how much I have been afraid, wondering what happened to get me here.

I don’t know where things went wrong, but I used to possess such an outgoing personality. Even in high school I had more friends than I knew what to do with. I was a cheerleader, a student council member, and more. Okay, I know all of this was a long time ago, but still, why don’t those qualities exude from me now?

Actually, they come out of me only when I’m writing, not when dealing with others. For some reason I have no problem tossing around my penned words, but when it comes to me, I prefer to remain hidden. So, what’s wrong with remaining anonymous, you might ask?

According to the publishers in this business, uh, plenty.

Are people never happy?

So I decided to pray about all of this and ask God for His guidance. “Please, God, show me what You want me to do.”

A few days later, one of my publishers recommended I sign up for Facebook, Twitter, and blogging. Of course, this was not what I wanted to hear, so I decided to pray again and ask God for His guidance.

After hearing no harps or angelic voices, I cracked open my Bible, and like a magnet, I was drawn to the book of Matthew, chapter 5. I began to read but paused when I came upon verse 14: “Ye are the light of the world. A city that is set on an hill cannot be hid.”

Okay. I do not like the direction this is going, God.

I read verse 15: “Neither do men light a candle, and put it under a bushel, but on a candlestick; and it giveth light unto all that are in the house.”

Ahem . . . not crazy about this one, either.

Then the final clincher: “Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father which is in heaven.”

So not the answer I was wanting, Lord.

I mean, it’s bad enough when my husband’s right, but now God was in on this, too? And my publisher?

So what does all of this have to do with writing a novel?

Well, it has everything to do with that and more. I may be able to write a book or an article, but if I can’t market either, I’ll fail. I can’t expect a publisher to believe in me if I don’t believe in myself. I can’t rely on someone else to promote my work if I won’t do the same.

Did I just say all of that?

See? They’re getting to me already.

Run, woman. Save yourself.

What I don’t understand? All of these years, God has allowed me to take a backseat. I even prefer the last pew in church. For some reason, though, the Big Guy seems to be pushing me forward—again. I don’t have all the answers as to why He’s doing this, but I can speculate.

Perhaps God doesn’t want me to walk around and ignore the giants. Maybe He wants me to whip out a slingshot and take the big oxen down, just as David did with Goliath. I’m sure He wants me to be fearless, just as Joshua was about possessing the Promised Land. I think He desires for the light He’s placed inside of me to shine and help others, in spite of all I’ve lived through. I know my husband wants the same, even though the little darling prods me every now and then. He, too, wants me to succeed.

Yet, I wonder. How will God accomplish this feat in me when I’m still terrified to let go? I’m not sure, but there are a few words which come to mind.

Prod. Prod.


I suppose God will have His way in the end.