For months now, I've disciplined myself to write a blog, every week, with occasional hiccups, but usually on time. :-)
I've been continually amazed at how the thoughts and ideas come, and flow from my head into my fingers which press onto the computer keys, and amazingly appear on the screen...
(And I must add, I pray to God for ideas, and have to give thanks where it is due!)
And then the magic of the "Publish" button which I point to with my mouse, and voila, my words are public. It is a far cry from pounding out on my old typewriter (which still sits in my closet floor), and sending out hopeful ideas and articles, wondering how long they will sit on the desk of a busy editor, much less be read by anyone else.
This is the passion of a writer, but there is also a terrible fear that one will run out of things to say and renege on the commitment made, if to no one but myself. And even if I have joy in writing, and sharing of the heart, will my words make a difference? I think about that; I think most who love to write do.
Words matter. They flow out of most of us, by the hundreds, every day. We speak, we text, we send Facebook messages and post things about our lives.
Some words are ugly, and we've all been overexposed to volumes of ugly hateful words. There are times I just wanted to shut it all out and go live in the woods. Of course, that would have not worked very well, since I do like my warm bed and creature comforts. And I'm rather scared of the dark. :-)
As much as I enjoy to write, I love to read. I like to hear the ideas of others, to be inspired by deep thought, to learn from those who have struggled and overcome, and have shared their stories. I love to hear tales of faith and courage and love. There is much to learn from one another, and we all have stories to tell.
Two brief stories for today's blog, both of gratefulness. Yesterday I had a tea party. I used my mother's tea cups, with yellow roses. Yellow roses have been important in my life, and I've written about them before. When my mother died, over three years ago, I ended up with her beautiful china set. It was her birthday this week, and it is a lovely time to use them. I was grateful to all who came to our open house, who shared a cup of tea or coffee, and who supported my now annual art sale. It was a lot of fun.
But I have to tell you... when I opened the door to greet some of my guests, on this November day, what was blooming in my very neglectful little garden? A yellow tea rose. Those roses had not bloomed in weeks... what a lovely gift!
The second story is of New Hope, an organization for the widowed I helped to organize 20 years ago now, after the death of my first husband Andrew. Last night was their fund-raiser, and as a little organization, they work hard to maintain their office and provide support for those who need it. Fund-raising is never fun, but it seems rather necessary for any non-profit.
So my hubby Steve and I arrived to find a car lot full of cars... and a hall full of people... and it was a wonderful evening of entertainment, dance and song. I was moved to tears... as I often am... to see people continuing to support this wonderful cause, which was once just a little dream... now 20 years old.
So dare to dream! Write your stories! Share the good, the positive, the encouragements. We need to share what is lovely and good and bright in our lives. I am thankful to God for continued encouragements, and pray that you would be encouraged as well!