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.

Mistaken Identity

Have you ever discovered that you’re not who you thought you were?

I did recently, and let me tell you, it can be a frightening experience.

Several months ago, I received an e-mail telling me I was a finalist in a novel competition. And being the optimist that I am, my eyes shifted. Okay, what’s going to happen to me now?

Now, I know I shouldn’t behave in this manner, but it seems like whenever I receive good news, well, something bad happens soon after, so I can’t seem to help myself. I’m still trying to trust God in this area.

In fact, He’s the reason I made it to the finals to begin with. Before entering the competition, I prayed, “God, I don’t care if I win or not, but if you would bless me to final, I’d be happy. I don’t have to win.”

So God had answered my prayer. Right?

I should have been elated. Don’t you think?

When they announced the winners, though, and I wasn’t one of them, guess who got a sour attitude laced with major disappointment?

As I moped around the house, my husband, with his uncanny wisdom and unique ability to know when to deliver said wisdom, said to me, “Honey, I don’t know why on earth you’re so upset. You did tell God that as long as you placed, you’d be happy. Remember?”

Don’t you hate it when someone plays the “I Remember” game, throwing your words back in your face? I mean, I knew the man was right, but in my humble opinion, what did that have to do with anything?

I flipped my hand. “I know what I said. Is this supposed to make me feel better right now?”

“Well, you should have asked God for more if you really wanted to win.”

I showed my vast intelligence. “And?

“I’m just telling you. That’s all.”

That’s all. I wanted to throw back my head and laugh. After being married for twenty-nine years, I knew “that” wasn’t all.

He started to walk away, but then stopped and turned around.

I told you the little lamb chop wasn’t finished with me yet.

His meaty hand pointed a finger in my direction. “You know what your problem is, Deb?”

I jutted my chin and spoke like a heroine from a historical romance novel set in England. “Tell me, what is my problem?”

“You’re afraid of success, not failure.” He jabbed his finger in the air for emphasis. “That’s what your problem is.”

Suddenly, the room grew quiet, and so did I—a rarity.

Within seconds, his eyes lit up like a Christmas tree because he knew he had me.

Worse still?

I knew he had me.

Oh, how I hate when this happens. I hate even more to admit when he’s right about such things. I’d rather have my teeth pulled.

He held his stance. “It’s true, isn’t it?”

Drats. Go away. Leave me alone to wallow in my misery.

His eyes bore into mine. “Deb?”

My royal attitude evaporated. “Okay, fine. It’s true.”

“But why, honey? God’s given you a gift.”


Well, I didn’t know why, but it finally hit me that I have been sabotaging myself. All this time I’ve blamed other things for impeding my progress. Don’t get me wrong, other obstacles have crossed my path, but I now see the other problem has been me. Yes. I said it. Me. (I am woman; hear me roar.)

Anyway, this divine revelation has left me with much to think about. It makes no sense that I would do such a thing, but I have. This writing journey is crazier than I thought.

I’ll have to learn to trust God in this area too.