Back in November, my writing coach and friend Stacey Thacker asked me when it was I first considered myself a writer. I knew the answer before she even finished her sentence: fourth grade.
I had written a Christmas poem, and my mom walked into the copy room to find the teachers abuzz making copies of it. I recalled being part of a special program at school (similar to what we would call the gifted program these days) where we learned more about the creative process. My teacher, Deni Corbett, had a writer’s heart and instilled that in her students. I wrote stories about a group of nuts named Tricia P. Nut and Wally Walnut. I remember in awe reading a book written by a relative of Mrs. Corbett’s. She knew a REAL AUTHOR! I dreamed of one day being an author myself. That’s when I first felt like a writer.
Stacey smiled at me from across the table in Panera. “You should see your face when you tell that story.” And she encouraged me to write creatively – go back to what made that fourth grade little girl so proud and full of hope.
I spent most of 2019 unable to write (as is evident by the lack of new content on this blog). I was lamenting to Stacey how the words just weren’t there. My mind and the world around were too noisy to find my words.
I had already decided to fast social media in December. I wanted to quiet the voices and find my own words. I wanted to make room for real people (not virtual ones) and listen to the silence, where I hoped to hear God’s voice.
In full disclosure, I didn’t finish my Advent study, and I didn’t spend nearly as much time as I hoped at the feet of Jesus. But I enjoyed the break.
About a week and half into the month, as I was unloading groceries from my car, the words came. I had been mulling over my word for the year: His Way. I was thinking about what I had learned and what God had done in me. Like a geyser that abruptly erupted, somehow making you startle at the suddenness yet filling you with joy because it was just so beautiful, words poured forth.
Between putting away potatoes and milk and pasta and bell peppers, I found the words to express my 2019. I share them now, honestly, mixed with fear and joy, but I pray they encourage and bring joy to you as well.
Bring it on, 2020!
Beautiful, Erin!