I had a lot of anger issues as a child, and my parents weren’t sure what to do. One day, likely as she was running out of options and feeling desperate, my Mom handed me a piece of paper and a pencil and said “write about it.” Those three words pretty much changed my life. At the time, I was so angry that I wrote with such force that the papers curled up as the pencil flew across the page. Gradually, over time, the pages curled less. Until they laid flat and my heart was content. Writing is very therapeutic to me now.
As a young girl, I always wanted to be a writer. To be a published author. Or a famous world travelling journalist, trotting all over the globe. So when the time came, I went to school and earned a journalism degree. After working in a few newsrooms, however, I soon discovered writing the news was more heartbreaking than anything else.
Later, after I had been married for awhile, things changed. When we discovered both our children had special needs, I abandoned my dreams of writing and made the decision to be a hands on, at home Mom. Ashamedly, it was a choice I regretted at first. But God can change any heart, and I am so thankful he changed mine. I love my boys, they are my greatest blessing.
As the years passed, I wrote here and there. Life was busy and I didn’t feel I had the time to write. That is, until recently when I was diagnosed with a debilitating, disfiguring disability. In the aftermath, I rediscovered my need for writing – it pulled something out of my soul. It once again became my therapy, my way of dealing with my circumstances. I wrote as I processed my broken heart.
Until one day, I realized it was my way of writing about my journey and sharing the love of God with others. I may not be a famous world, travelled journalist. I may not have everything figured out. In fact, to be honest with you, I feel like I am flying by the seat of my pants. But I believe I am exactly where God wants me to be, writing exactly what He wants me to write. And that’s a beautiful thing.