Writing: Word-less Wednesday

Words are floating around in my mind. . .about nothing, about everything.  Pouring in at warp speed, trickling in slow like molasses.  So much to say but nothing to say at all.  I'm all sorts of contradictions right now.  I remember once, a long, long time ago, my little eight-year-old self dreamed about becoming a writer.  I filled books, large and small with words.  Thoughts scribbled across pages, cursive loops and dotted T's. . .even back then I had stories to tell.

Flash forward to the year I took a writing class. . .the kind I had to mail in manuscripts and they would be returned with comments in the margins and editing galore.  Halfway through the course I realized, I didn't enjoy it.  My stories were stifled.  There was no real life to my words, and the grueling process to publish was disheartening to say the least.  So I silenced myself.  I gave myself permission to quit the one thing I thought I had always wanted to do. . .

And now, I don't care if I begin a sentence with a conjunction.  Punctuation might not follow the strict grammar rules of the academics.  More often than not, I don't even care.  The message is generally from my heart.  The happenings are from my own life; and it doesn't matter to me how it gets to paper; it just matters that it gets there.  There is something so beautiful about going through our blog books and seeing pictures accompanied by words--whatever they say, however, grammatically incorrect they are. It's my story and one that calls to be told.

Words written on paper express the details of our lives.  And our lives are so good because we are alive to live them.  I'm still here in this space. . .words are just floating around in my mind. . . .about nothing, about everything.

Our first outing in the Polaris enjoying God's creation.