Sunday, February 24, 2013


I feel like I need to apologize to my Blog Readers.  I haven’t done much casual, public writing lately.  The words are shut up in my life waiting for the story to fall out.  

Not that I haven’t been writing.  My writing is required now for work where I write someone else’s words.  I take his thoughts and mold them and shape them so he says what he intends without having to think about syntax and grammar.  I like that part of my job, actually.

I have been writing for the magazine, too, which I really enjoy.  I find that I enjoy conducting interviews.  I like drawing out someone else’s story, someone else’s importance, someone else’s contributions to the world.  It’s uplifting and encouraging to me.  Selfishly it expands my horizons.  Then I get to write about it and share those stories of hope and accomplishment with my readers.  Writing for 5ive for Women has been a true blessing.

I really like that, a lot.
But personal writing has been mostly private ramblings and reflections.  I don’t think it has any real value to anyone else, so I throw my words out onto paper somewhere and tuck them away.  I can’t not write, you know, but not every word is meant to be shared with everyone.

I’ve been living a bit lately, too.  Good, bad, puzzling, sad.  Life is swirling around me and I rise and fall on the winds of time like the myriad of snowflakes which will not cease to grow on my lawn.

Speaking of snowflakes, as much as I enjoy them, I would rather not enjoy them up-close-and-personal like I did in the ditch the other day.  I drive a lot, you know, and I suppose the law of averages played out.  Thankfully my angels heard me calling, “JESUS JESUS JESUS” as I slid from the road into the ditch. 

Bouncing back and forth between the banks sliding in the soft snow, I finally landed at a tilt, but without any major damage.  As far as I know.  

It scared me, I have to tell you.   Even more when the friendly EMS guy who witnessed my mayhem said, “I thought for sure you rolled.  I don’t know how you didn’t.”

My instant response, “thank the Lord, that’s all I can say.  Thank the Lord.”  

And thank the Lord I do. 

This mishap is the latest in a string of annoying expenses that I have to cover. 

These mishaps keep me from writing, too.  I wish I could figure how to make my words marketable so they can pay for my life.  I’m not asking for much.  I’m just asking this tyrant which demands so much of my creative energy to pay for itself.  Fix my car, help pay for new glasses, get the dental work out of the way.  Is that asking for too much?

Apparently, it is.

And I don't mean to complain, please don't misunderstand me.  I look around me at the lives of my friends and family whose difficulties are much greater than my own and I am thankful for the troubles I have.  I am bothered, honestly, mostly that I can't find a way to help them more.  I watch God provide in amazing ways and I am thankful, truly.  I only wish I needed less so I could help them more.  

And all the while the words taunt me from their cheerful shelf and life swirls pulling me from one side of the ditch to the other while I watch the grace of God hold me still in the middle of it all.

That’s how a writer sees this slice of life.

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A Book of Pages About Crossing Bridges or a Friend Named Jesus, 
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