Musings

I've been writing lately again. Not the scribbling I do here; I mean really writing. I haven't done it in years...

I used to write pages and pages in my storybook every day--I would carry that thing around with me everywhere, I was never seen without it. When I was younger, some of the things I wrote were not very nice... Let's just say I was definitely too young to be writing about them, but I had an even worse outlook on life than I do now (imagine that! --This was all B.C. of course.). Then, I got serious about God, and grew disgusted with myself as I realized what I was writing. And I made Him a promise: I told Him that I would never write again unless it was something He gave me. And so I haven't written in two years.

You have no idea how much that hurt--it was one of the hardest things I've ever done. I felt like a sculptor that had only finished half of a statue, then didn't complete it. I had five or six major stories on my drawing board at the time--and I was more than half way done with many of them. But they all went into my filing cabinet of stories, and I haven't thought about them since. (Well, not too much...)

Until now.

God has been giving me, in little glimpses, pictures. And the pictures are telling me how I can still finish my stories--but with different endings, that glorify Him.

One of my stories that I started about five years ago when I was learning to play guitar is about a kid who can play, but is stuck in a group home, and is roomies with a kid who has Down's Syndrome. Originally, the main point of the story was the guitar; that was before I got a baby brother with Down's. Now, I'm getting all sorts of ideas...

Another story was about a Deaf girl and her hearing mother who do not understand each other. The hearing girl becomes friends with a hearing girl who has a Deaf mother. I've met more Deaf people now, and I understand the culture better--I wouldn't have been able to finish the story adequately if I'd have finished writing it seven years ago when I started.

And poems have been coming too. On Christmas night, I told Jesus that I wanted to give Him something, but I didn't know what. Then I realized that I wanted to write Him a poem--but I told Him that I couldn't do it without Him giving it to me (Funny how that works, isn't it?). It normally takes at least fifteen minutes for me to write a poem, and then I fix and finagle with it some more. I was done in five minutes, and I haven't touched it since.

God is good, even when it seems like He's trying to take something beloved away from us; maybe He's just holding it back until the right time...

And maybe I'll post some poems here, if I get the chance.