I have always been drawn to words. Even as a tiny girl. When I look back at my diary I laugh as I see the important things I would jot down. I wrote about the weather,boys,roller skating parties, my feelings,or friends I saw that day. It was all very deep.
And when I turned 13 I started writing music. I will never forget that feeling the first time I wrote. I may not remember all the lyrics but I remember what prompted me. I had been looking through my dad’s subscription of News Week. There I saw a picture that moved me to an emotion that had to be dealt with. It was painted out right in front of my innocent adolescent wide eyes. The picture of a man with deep sunken eyes. He looked scruffy and void of hope. He was sitting on a curb holding a child. They were both dirty with messy hair. No shelter. No food. Nothing. Growing up in a sheltered, television free home, I had never seen anything like it. And I was beyond appalled.
I wrote that first time because an emotion was evoked with in me. I knew if I didn’t write it down I would burst. It was a matter of necessity.
And so it is still. I write because something is stirred in me. Sometimes it’s out of conviction, or compulsion. Sometimes I write to record so I don’t forget. At times I write to bring laughter. I write when I’m happy and when I have tears burning my eyes and running off my fingertips down onto the keys. I write to heal and encourage. And often I write not even knowing what all is going to come out of me. It’s a journey I take and when I’m finished I look back and touch up or add more. I read it out loud to make sure it’s what I wanted to say. Or I sing the lyric over and over until the children are begging me to write a new song.
I write because something in me is pleading to be released. A word is running around in my head and unless I set it free I will not rest.
When I look back over my almost 40 years of life I can tell who I was by what was written down. I forget what it was like to be a child, a teen, a newly wed, a young mom, but when I reflect, I see the faithfulness Of God’s hand. I recall those days. I laugh. I cry. I ponder. I am grateful.
And then I write once again.
Someday I will look back reminding myself of 40.
Why do you write?
I’m linking up with Anne VosKamp and Holley. Some of the most inspirational writers I have read! Make sure you visit them.