I just crept quietly out of the bedroom or two *hopefully* sleeping kids. I\u2019m not actually positive they were asleep, but they didn\u2019t stop me so there\u2019s that. There is still pick-up to do around the house, things to prep for the morning and to be perfectly honest, a few things could use a bit of a scrub tonight (looking at you, kitchen floor). But my feet carry me to our bedroom, to my little desktop area where the computer sits. My heart and head beat the words like the rhythm of a drum- \u201cTime to write. Time to write. Time to write.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n
I enjoy writing. It is therapeutic, a way to put thoughts to \u201cpaper\u201d instead of letting them swirl around in my head for too long. It\u2019s a way to express feelings and ideas much more easily than speaking quickly on my feet. It\u2019s a way to hash out a difficult experience, or a confusing one, or a delightful one in which I want to remember the details forever. For me, it\u2019s also something I\u2019ve discovered I cannot ignore, cannot let fall to the wayside. It\u2019s almost like my soul depends on it in order to do well or to thrive. For too long, I have put it off as something extra or good but time- consuming that can happen when all of the \u201cother things\u201d are complete (which of course will mean never\u2026). But that is just not working anymore. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
The thing about writing is there are many, many people who are very good at it. We are also all humans, typically living the same experiences of everyday life. It\u2019s so easy to think, \u201cWhat do I have to say that isn\u2019t already being said a million times?\u201d I know countless people who have a gift with words and who enjoy writing as well. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
But it is not about sharing something new or novel. For me, it\u2019s not about making a profound statement in the very best way. It\u2019s an expression of art, of love, of the processing of life. Like an artist who cannot ignore the desire to sketch or hold a paintbrush and who sees the beauty they want to capture in the clouds or the field of wildflowers or the soft sagging skin of their grandmother\u2019s face. Like a musician who can\u2019t ignore the sounds of music, the beats heard in the regular everyday, a good song playing in the background noise of a shop or restaurant. Like a pianist who feels the urge and is drawn to the bench or stool, fingers poised over the ivory keys ready to pound them and play with abandon. My mind spins words, everyday thoughts into statements, analogies, deeper truths or meanings that what is on the surface. Sometimes those things are just meant for me. Sometimes they are truths or realizations that connect to past memories or bring light to situations. Sometimes they\u2019re serious, angry, silly or filled with gratitude. It really doesn\u2019t matter when it\u2019s about the sheer act of threading words together. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Why not keep them to myself then? I could and I would be perfectly fine to stash all the swirling and vulnerable thoughts and musings away for later, if it weren\u2019t for something that happened one night months ago. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
I was driving home from my small Bible study group after we had a good night together of encouraging discussion and prayer. My car is not usually silent, because it\u2019s either filled with kid noise and what feels like 2.6 million different conversations at once, or during the sweet times I am driving alone, I often use it for a podcast or audiobook. However, this night in particular I left everything off and drove in silence as I reflected on the things my group had talked about. As I drove along, I heard what had to be the voice of God in my very spirit say, \u201cMia, you have something to say.\u201d Almost startled by the thought, I also couldn\u2019t help but smile. It was so opposite of what I tended to tell myself, how I tended to talk to myself, and yet I knew what was meant by it. Write. Then share that somewhere and do not worry if anyone reads it. Share what you feel compelled to share. Keep the rest private. But just do it. Quit neglecting what God placed in you that feeds your soul with life. Tap the keys on that keyboard like a pianist pounds the ivories and put your soul on paper. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
So here is my meager offering. I will write. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
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