A Reward for Persistence
Why won't this dream of writing (and having more than just my wife read my stuff) go away? Why do I still subscribe to Writer's Digest? Why do I buy second-hand memoirs of writers? Why, when I'm at a yard sale, the first thing I look for is books? Why is my image of retirement full of writing projects that I have come up with but now finally will have the time and energy to tackle? I can tell that writing is a part of me because when I finally sit down and do it something happens. The page fills and the words flow. I even enjoy it when I'm editing the first surge of text that hits the page.
But I have a brisket that needs to be grilled for tomorrow's company, sweet potatoes that need digging from the garden, and a head cold that needs a good night's sleep.
"There's always tomorrow," I tell myself. But every time I believe and act on those words, another Today slips away. Another dozen brain cell die never to be resurrected. Another T cell caps off and my life gets that much shorter. Another good memory doesn't get made.
"Make the most of the time, because the days are evil (Ephesians 5:16). Time dissipates before we know it. The energy inherent in each moment is easily stolen by intruding urgencies.
I believe there is lasting power in written words, whether or not anyone around me reads them; whether or not the world changes because of them (or much less pays me for them). The real change happens in me as I encounter new places and people that did not exist before and I echo the sentiments of Another who could have done an infinite number of other things with Himself -- "It is very good."
Why won't this dream of writing (and having more than just my wife read my stuff) go away? Why do I still subscribe to Writer's Digest? Why do I buy second-hand memoirs of writers? Why, when I'm at a yard sale, the first thing I look for is books? Why is my image of retirement full of writing projects that I have come up with but now finally will have the time and energy to tackle? I can tell that writing is a part of me because when I finally sit down and do it something happens. The page fills and the words flow. I even enjoy it when I'm editing the first surge of text that hits the page.
But I have a brisket that needs to be grilled for tomorrow's company, sweet potatoes that need digging from the garden, and a head cold that needs a good night's sleep.
"There's always tomorrow," I tell myself. But every time I believe and act on those words, another Today slips away. Another dozen brain cell die never to be resurrected. Another T cell caps off and my life gets that much shorter. Another good memory doesn't get made.
"Make the most of the time, because the days are evil (Ephesians 5:16). Time dissipates before we know it. The energy inherent in each moment is easily stolen by intruding urgencies.
I believe there is lasting power in written words, whether or not anyone around me reads them; whether or not the world changes because of them (or much less pays me for them). The real change happens in me as I encounter new places and people that did not exist before and I echo the sentiments of Another who could have done an infinite number of other things with Himself -- "It is very good."
