Writing

I love writing.  I think it all started in second grade when my principle's gerbil had several babies and he devised a creative way to adopt them out.  He had his picture taken at the local jail and student were given the opportunity to write a story of how he ended up there.  A boy and a girl winner would be chosen from each grade and would get their very own baby gerbil.

I loved thinking of the various scenarios that could have landed him in jail.  I ended up writing a fabulous story of how he unwittingly helped a pair of thieves by entering a house through the chimney, unlocking the door, and helping them load the contents of the house into a moving van. Now, it seems very much like an episode of the Jetsons cartoon I once watched.....  I loved writing the story; adding detail to bring the story alive and replaying the scenes and dialogue over in my mind.  And I particularly liked winning my gerbil, which I named Squirmy because it squirmed so much in its cage as I walked home with it.  (My mom several years later told me that every kid who wrote a story won a gerbil.  But it didn't matter to me, I loved that gerbil and discovered a dream!)

I continued to write, not only for school projects, but also for myself.  Actually, I started to write letters to friends that I didn't intend to send.  This helped me get my thoughts out on paper and often times gave me new perspectives for situations I was encountering in my life.  These were my first journals.

Now, I write almost exclusively in my journal.  Sometimes I write in preparation for a speaking event, but those opportunities have diminished with the moves.  Or maybe, I packed that dream away, too.... So the thought of writing something to share with the 'world' is frightening.  There is a vulnerability and permanency there, not to mention punctuation rules to follow!

So why write a blog?  Because writing is one of my dreams, but I need practice and accountability.

Why now?  Because I find that I am often telling my children and others to not let fear hold them back from what they love to do. I tell them to take a risk even if it means they might fail.  I don't want the people I know and love to miss out on the abundant life God has for them because they are afraid.  Apparently, my children have been listening because now they tell me the same thing.  They are watching.  So I write; even though it scares me and leaves me with a pit in my stomach when I push the publish button.  And the truth is, I don't want to miss out on adventures in my life because I'm afraid; afraid of failing, afraid of what others would think, afraid of succeeding, afraid of criticism, afraid of everything.  Fear is such a dream killer.

I have a plaque in my office that I read almost every day that asks:  What would you attempt to do if you were not afraid?  I would write.  How about you?