Today I thought I would take a few minutes to share my journey into writing. It is quite riveting. I did not grow up journaling or keeping a diary…the one & only reason being that I did not want to leave any evidence lurking in case something unthinkable happened to me. I did not want to leave words that would disappoint, anger, confuse, or embarrass anyone…especially me…I mean, I would hate to be in heaven with a red face. I still feel this way, even though I have filled page after page in stacks of journals over the last decade…only now I have a safeguard in place: once a journal is filled, I meet with God in the back yard, thank Him for prayers answered, review my words one last time, & set fire to that sucker. No paper trail. No evidence. The backup plan if tragedy should befall before the last journal is burned? I have trusted friends who will set the blaze. You know who you are.
Journaling has kept me sane. It has given me relief. It has opened my eyes to what is most important to me & laid bare my deepest hopes & dreams. I cannot recommend it enough, just make sure you have a contingency plan for data leaks. I have only had one, & oddly enough it was earlier this year. The results were catastophic. Learn from me on this.
As cathartic & private as journaling is, you may be asking yourself why I would ever fling words out here for the whole world to see. (It might be presumptious to think that the whole world would ever find my words, but a girl can dream.) Anyway, so why? Why take such a risk? Why strip my soul down to utter nakedness? I think it is some kind of creative urge that is willing to defy gravity & odds & good common sense: I like to talk in person, & I love to talk on paper.
As a child, teenager, & college student I found great satisfaction when assigned a book report, an essay, or a term paper. (Look that up if you are under 40.) Anytime I faced an academic test I prayed to the Holy One that it would be made up of essay questions…the opportunity to use copious amounts of words (also known as BS) which always rendered me AT LEAST partial credit, if not full credit + bonus points, thus improving my odds of success. I wrote papers for other people, usually in exchange for a ride to & from college or tutoring in algebra…which, by the way, I HAVE NEVER USED, NOT EVER, IN MY 56 YEARS. Algebra is a lie.
As a young mother I told stories instead of writing, because who even had time to find pens & paper with three littles running the show. I failed at the whole “baby book” thing. Miserably. Baby #1 had the most words in her book…there may be a half-page total to memorialize her early years. Baby #2 came along 26 months later, & is pretty much the reason nothing got written in baby books or anywhere else until he turned 16. Baby #3 did not even have a baby book until she was 4 yrs. old. I will regale you with stories about those days some other time. They are the stuff of legend & not even something I could make up.
Throughout my 30’s & early 40’s I wrote devotions that I presented to church ladies. I wrote my own Sunday School curriculum for kids. I have written poems…mostly humorous…for my loved ones. I have ideas for writing children’s books…little kids are my favorite kind of humans. I have 2 ideas for serious books. I have penned lofty emails & important documents during my 21 yrs. in business. And I have long wanted to blog. I don’t know everything I wish to accomplish in this space yet. I DO want to encourage young moms…my kids are grown & I have lived to tell about it. I want to encourage women…those who just cannot & will not be defined by our sewer culture & need to know that they are valuable just the way God made them. I hope to bring humor & light in a place that can be very dark, for very many.
I hope you will read my words…that you will comment so that I can grow & improve my craft…that you will share your stories here, too. These are the goals for now. I appreciate the time that anyone anywhere would take to read my thoughts. Until next time…
A Story Told Here... 