I must be writing. My writing and my art take many forms along the path to being seen by others:
- A funky, doodle-filled shopping list I choose not to follow once I get to the store. (It's a game I play with myself, and my teenaged daughters now chastise me routinely for it. They also hold the list and check items off, making it far more functional . . . a perk, I must say!)
- A list of lovely names I will never use for the children I will not bear in this lifetime. (Maybe this is in anticipation of the fiction I will one day write?!?!)
- A poem about lightning-filled skies.
- A journal entry kept from prying eyes.
- A "To Do" list with zero items crossed off or completed.
- A note on the back of an envelope to remind my daughters to empty the dishwasher, and "Oh how much your mama loves you both!"
- A shorter list of thanks to let everyone know how my God fills me up and keeps me moving forward each week. Sometimes the list is longer. It is never all-encompassing.
- A deeper, heartfelt introspection about how God made me to be a writer in the first place.
Finding a sweet spot. In the zone. On my game.
No matter what it is called, I am choosing to call it mine. I am home. I have been searching for my voice, and I am finally finding it. I am finding the meaning in it. Out of its overflow from my heart emerges beauty, peace, and hope for expressions of both the writing and crafty kind for the future. Mind and heart full. Fingers singing over the keys.
I write. I. am. a. writer.
I can't not do it. (There goes that double negative again!) It fills me and spills forth like breath.
I am finally exhaling, and it feels wonderful. Stay tuned for more on that trail of beauty I will be leaving and how you can join me!
On His Adventure~