I have had a love affair with anything DIY since I can remember, yet my constant future career was always a solid: a teacher and a writer. My elementary school years were littered with homemade books with topics ranging from flowers to adventure and of course my personal journal; all the while playing school with my siblings. I even gave homework. Somewhere God intertwined this desire in my soul from my birth and writing has always been my decompressor, if you will. My constant place to go when the going gets tough or something needs to be articulated better than I can verbalize.
At the start of high school, one of my best friends was told by our English teacher that she should join the journalism class. She also liked to write and really is amazing at it, too. Little me had no idea there was such a thing and was bummed that I was not asked. Oh little me. Did I mention how shy and naive and insecure I was back then? I will spare you but trust me. Looking back, this was my pivot point, where I started going after more creative projects and ended up perusing fashion design and merchandising in college. I loved designing though. And still love it now. But. But. But. But this is point where God calls me back to His purpose for me. Back to my other love. Back to my roots. Back to writing.
For the last year and half, God has been whispering and telling and calling me to write. I wrote a little for myself but really did not pay that much attention to it. Why not? I am not sure, really. I like to think I am usually obedient to His calling but for some reason I hesitated this time. Not that I did not want to write. It just did not seem that important and all of those fun DIY projects on Pinterest luring me to make them did not help. It was not until this past week that I finally started listening. Finally started writing more. Sometimes I really need a flashing sign with DO THIS written on it for confirmation or maybe just a sermon entitled "The Next Step," with a guest speaker who says he also did not listen to God's call for a year. Isn't God funny that way?
Recently I came across a post about taking pictures of daily life and how it made the mundane beautiful. While I totally agree and pictures are of high value and importance to me, the first thing that came to mind was writing. For me, writing takes out some of the mundane and adds sprinkles of character and light. The right word changes the entire situation. Not to take away from the smiles and laughter only caught in the perfect moment of a photograph. Writing on the other hand adds elements that a picture can only take so far. It adds emotion where there once may not have been. It provides a back story and possibly a hope for the future. It adds more time than a picture possibly ever could.
There is almost something sacred in the stringing together of words to form the memories of moments past and still to come. They are owned by the writer. No one can take that from them or add to it. Anyone can take a picture of someone posing with a birthday cake but no one will have the same thoughts or feeling about that moment captured in time. They belong to the writer. The inventor of that moment as it played out in their head as the final candle was blown out. That is beauty. That is the gift of daily life. That is God's gift of words.
I have no idea what this writing thing looks like or what God wants to do with it. It is out of my comfort zone, which seems to be a constant in my relationship with God; He's pretty funny that way, too. It is easy to write down words that make sense to me but to write them and allow others to read them, well that is another story. I know God will continue to give me things to share. Things He wants me to share. This week alone has been filled with random tidbits and pieces already. So this is the part where my stomach ties itself in knots and extra prayers are prayed and God and I go out on another adventure together. I wonder what it will look like this time around.
