Because the words scream in my head until I write them down. I need to write for me.
The words burn in my soul…
They nag me with silent proddings…
They won’t stop speaking to me until I release them into letters, words, sentences and paragraphs.
The ideas, the thoughts, the verses, the solution, the questions, the longings, the satisfactions, all jumble together in my heart, mind, body and soul.
The only way I can make sense is to write it down. I capture the words and make them useful, tame them, and organize them.
It used to be a clean, crisp sheet of white paper with those perfectly spaced blue lines and the perfect pen that would set my heart racing. A pen that wrote quickly and smoothly, not leaving those little blogs of ink behind. When I had a bad pen, I had to keep a tissue next to my paper to keep those blobs from marring the flow of my heart as it tried to trace a path to the paper.
When the computers came into my home, it was hard turnover in my heart.
It didn’t seem like writing when my hands were poised over the keyboard.
However, thanks to Mr. Short and his typing class my freshman year of high school, I can type way faster than I can write, and it after awhile, it became the new normal. My fingers fly as long as the words are flowing.
Now what stops me is not the little blobs of ink.
Sometimes I just forget.
I lose a sentence mid-air and the thought is cut in half like it went through the chop saw, the bottom piece falling into a black chasm.
Sometimes the tears are flowing and the emotions are going faster than my fingers can begin to capture, but I relive those thoughts until they can be tamed, calmed and captured.
Sometimes the thoughts are so sluggish, I can’t get them to rise to the surface of my heart, the pain is there, the hope is there, or the joy is there, but no words are there. Just the fingers, waiting to serve the soul.
Why do I write?
I write for others. What I have experienced and learned through the refiner’s fire and through the joys that know no limits, I need to share, I cannot be selfish for anything I have learned from the heart and words of the Lord. What He has given me I cannot hoard. Like manna for the day, I cannot store His treasures, waiting for another day. He gives, I share.
I write for those that cannot write. I write for those who dare not yet speak of their experiences, they live vicariously through mine. I share my heart, they nod, weep and sing in agreement on the other side of my computer, knowing I have expressed their hearts that are beating in the same heartbeat.
Why do I write?
I write for the Lord. He has given me all things, in all things I must give Him glory and honor. Every breath is from Him, every thought is from Him, every joy is from Him, every sorrow is from Him. He gives liberally, of His joys and sorrows, always surrounding each experience with His presence, His love, His grace and His mercy.
My heart must praise Him, He is worthy of my praise.
All He has given me, I must give back to Him.
So, I write.