Me, God, and My Pen

I’ve always been a writer and I’ve always loved to write but it seems like God is increasing my love for it everyday. It feels like birth pains…or, seeing as though I’ve never had kids, what I imagine them to feel like. Contractions coming faster and faster…

yeah, I guess I’m birthing something right now. A new me, maybe? Or maybe not a new me but the original me. The me that God designed me to be. I feel my creativity overflowing like too much syrup on pancakes that are placed on an itty bitty plate (Go to IHOP…they do that all the time.) Everything is a story to me now. Something I see as I’m driving can turn into the perfect backdrop for a short story I’ll write. Someone’s reminiscing about days gone by can easily become the next poem I write. And of course, my own life in all of its dynamic blandness (see? an oxymoron! But it describes it so perfectly)…has been increasingly more documented over the last few months—eventually becoming fodder for the next great inspirational, non-fiction effort of mine. Who knows? Maybe I’ll write a memoir one day.

Nevertheless, I’m enjoying this space I’m in. It’s peaceful when it just me, God and my pen. Not that my life is not peaceful otherwise…but it’s a different kind of peace. hey….I know what it is! A peace that passes all understanding, just like the Bible says. Because, honestly, I can’t really explain it. I just know that the spicket has been turned on full force and I’m pouring out what has been sitting deep down in the well of my soul…right onto the page. Thank you, Jesus.



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