From a young age, I have felt compelled to write. I remember when I was quite young I started with short stories and [what I called] song lyrics. From there it became poetry.  I wrote dozens and dozens of poems, I even had a few published. When I was in junior high and high school I always elected to take the creative writing classes and loved being on the newspaper staff. Before I married my high school sweetheart, I poured my heart out in letters to him. Even as that marriage dissolved I continued to write him and seemed completely unable to hold in my words, my feelings, and my thoughts. When we divorced and I joined the Navy, I wanted to be a journalist in the military to continue having this outlet for my words. Even if the words were straightforward information, and not of my own heart, I felt like I needed the opportunity to just COMMUNICATE.

Now, especially, I understand there is a huge difference between loving to write and writing well. I do not claim to be a great writer. I don’t even claim to be a GOOD writer. All I know is that as I find myself in another season of transition, I feel the need to write welling up within me, possibly stronger than it has ever been. I have been writing so much. In 5 months I have filled an entire journal with copying Scripture and writing prayers.  I’ve also been taking in so much information, from the Bible, from Bible studies, from conversations with friends and podcasts and documentaries and schoolwork. I have spun circles in my brain of thoughts that are connected and yet somehow make no sense in their current form. As I pray, I continue to feel the prompting to expose myself, to share. It matters not how many people are interested or who will actually read this, it only matters that as the urge to share grows I must yield to the obedience. I know that as I write, things will begin to untangle, therefore, I suppose my motives for writing are borne out of a willingness to be obedient and simultaneously out of selfishness.  This is a unique time in my life.  In the past two years I have been utterly consumed with school work.  Since I took a break for the move, I have so much more time on my hands to think, to read, and to write.

A characteristic of mine that does not lend itself to great writing is that I have such a terrible memory. There are entire years of my life missing from my memory. I’m not sure if this is a self-preservation tactic that my brain has done to protect me, or if it is a result of something else, maybe a symptom of one of my autoimmune disorders. I honestly have no idea; I just know that if I don’t write NOW, while I feel this urge, while God is stirring memories and trying to teach me through them, then I will soon forget. And that seems like such a great tragedy.

All that ^ nonsense leads me here, sitting at my computer, journal in front of me, worship music flowing through my headphones, iced coffee in my glass, and words pouring out. A friend recently told me that I am gifted at “untangling”. This makes sense to me… As I work toward becoming a Christian counselor, I can see that part of myself bubble up to the surface at times. However, while I may be able to help others untangle, I still feel completely chaotic on the inside. I’ve held it all in too long, and my own thoughts and lessons and beliefs need to be sorted out. I don’t know how to do that without my words. And so, I will write, and I will pray that these words of my mouth and meditations of my heart will be pleasing to God and somehow helpful to someone, somewhere.