Some days I feel words are building up inside me, until I'm going to explode. That's how I feel today.
Yes, I am the girl who promised herself to never start a blog. I spend enough time on the internet as it is. But as I am weening myself from the mind drain also known as facebook, I am finding words just building up inside.
I have made an art of making my Facebook posts, cute, short, sweet and lacking any real meaning. I found ways to sound clever or intelligent within the 420 character max. Spent hours thinking up the prefect soundbite. But face it, 420 characters, (ever wonder who picked 420, I mean seriously,) will only temporarily contain a person's real need to write.
And I have a real need to write.
I love to write. I love to put my thoughts, which, seem jumbled up in my head, into beautifully, if not misspelled, arraigned sentences. I like taking disorder, my thoughts, and creating order and beauty. I love to write.
Why not??? Well, it's simple. I did not want to be exposed.
When I write, it has usually been so long, that, I, in a fit of emotion, just grab a notebook, run to a quiet spot, open it up somewhere in the middle, where my kids have left a blank page, throw down a date on the corner and off I go. Out pours days, weeks and months of emotion. Thoughts I didn't know I had, tears I hadn't cried. Fears I didn't want to fear. All on this random piece of paper which I will tear out and eventually throw in the garbage. Albeit I WILL feel much better.
Here's the catch, the first thing I write, after the date, is "Dear" and then I wait....Dear who? That is the question.
NEVER Dear Diary. I hate that. Who is Diary? My daughter pronounces it diarrhea , which makes it even better.
"Mom, can I read Diarrhea of a wimpy kid? Can I?"
This is always the hardest part. I have sat with that empty page and a "dear" on it for what felt like hours. Who am I writing to??? I can't put down another word until I know. And, if I'm honest, most of them end up letters to my Husband, who has currently offended me, or to God, who apparently hasn't been listening to my prayers correctly.
Who I am writing to means everything to me, and blogs are for everyone...right? How can you write to everyone? So, I decided to never blog.
Yet here I am.
Today I learned something. I can't nail down what verse it was, or why the sermon today, at church, even led me here, but in the car, on the way home, it came. Who would I be writing to, who would I share my thoughts, concerns and, intimately, my exposed soul to. The one who already knows it....God.
So if any of the stuff in my life, will help any of you with yours, you can read this too. But otherwise, this is the story of God and me. How he loves me, despite all my sin, how he holds me even when I run away, how he protects me, when I'm the one who put myself in danger and how I really do want to know him better, even when I often don't choose to spend any time with him.
And because he made me with a LOVE for writing.