The hubs was listening to me whine a bit earlier this morning. Writing means rejection. Rejection means whining. That simple. He did his best to help, but mainly he just hugged on me.
And then he asked, “Why do you write, Dana?”
Why. That’s a very good question.
I think I write because I have to. Because it soothes me. Because… it helps. It helps on days when I am sad or sarcastic, or torn apart. And it lifts me out of myself, which is probably the best gift writing has ever given me.
“Lord, relieve me of the bondage of self, that I may better do Thy will.” Step Three prayer, Alcoholics Anonymous
But sometimes, I forget all this, and I write for the “Good Job!” that comes in the occasional email. And lately, those have been few and far between.
All of this takes a lot of courage I guess. Or, none at all, if I could just allow Jesus to really take it all over.
Every day is a journal page
Every man holds a quill and ink
And there’s plenty of room for writing in
All we do is believe and think
So will you compose a curse
Or will today bring the blessings?
Fill the page with rhyming verse
Or some random sketching.
Teach us to count the days
Teach us to make the days count
Lead us in better ways
Somehow our souls forgot…
Life means so much.
Chris Rice, Life Means So Much
