Impromptu post? Okay.
I’m at the library. I came to print off some of my poems, poems that I shared with a writer friend’s writer friend, who asked for them in hard copy. Exciting things are happening.
I spoke it on a walk, breathed it out in what felt like a whisper, because it felt like I was baring my soul: “I want to be a writer.”
But a friend reminded me, “You already are.”
So, here, I write. It’s been so long, I know. I know that people aren’t necessarily hanging on the edge of their seats for my latest post, especially since it’s been so long since my last one. But I’ve been needing to write. If anything else, for me. And I have been. I just haven’t had time–blah, what an awful excuse–to package it into what I consider post-worthy form. Need to polish it up and get it just right before I release it.
But not so today. Today I sit at the library, and type, type away, with no particular message to convey, except just that I want to write, feel the need to write. And I’ll post to let you in on that, not because I feel like I’m going to send you away from your computer screen with some little nugget of encouragement or bit of truth to chew on. Except that maybe if you have a dream, it can happen. It can start right now.
I am not a published author, poet, whatever. But someone wants my poems in hard copy, wants to get them into “the right hands,” whoever those hands are. It’s happening. I am a writer. And even if she didn’t, I am still a writer, because I write.
If you sing, you’re a singer.
If you paint, you’re a painter.
If you run, you’re a runner.
Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. You don’t have to be published, signed, sold, recognized. Your only recognition may be the eyes of Heaven looking on and delighting in the work of your hands, your feet. Isn’t that enough? That the Lord of glory delights in the creation of His creation, whom He designed to create?
With humility, sing, paint, run, to the best of your ability, to the glory of God. Delight in His delight in You.