Adrift

It is almost absurd in a way, how recently I have discovered just how much I love to write. Thinking back, if I had to write anything, (with the exception of any kind of governmental form), I relished the task. Lists, from shopping needs to Christmas gifts. Schedules detailing task efficiencies and timetables (both forward and backward) to enable panic-free preparation. Messages of love and appreciation in cards. Labels and instructions. Notes on how to operate devices (which I could almost never find, when I needed them). Yes, it’s true that list making and related activities make up part of my personality, nevertheless it is the actual act of writing; putting pen to paper or fingers to keyboards that I find inspiring.

Classroom teaching, of course, pandered to this indulgence admirably. Over the years the colour of the boards varied from black, to green, to white and the means of scribing from chalk, to felt pen, to digital marker. The ideas behind the letters and words displayed on classroom surfaces and in student books expressed the value of thought, the complexity of language, and the beauty of well-articulated phrases.

This latest phase of my writing ‘career’, should I be so bold as to describe it in such heady terms began with compiling and creating classroom resources. Many of these have been utilised in the classroom and shared with family members. Poems were penned along with short stories and meditational thoughts. I joined a writer’s group, and this, I think has been the catalyst for my ‘owning’ any creative incentive with which I may have been blessed.

I write for myself, because I simply love to write. Should anyone choose to read the words printed on paper, I feel privileged. Should anyone enjoy the story I have told, I feel humbled. Should anyone purchase a copy of a book I have published, I feel enormously gratified, and if anyone buys a book for the purpose of giving it to another reader my joy is unsurpassable.

I claim not to be a Charles Dickens, or an Emily Bronte, or a Helen Fielding. I claim nothing other than a thankful heart for the people in my life who have contributed towards the achievement of this recent end goal. There are too many to name, and even more of whom I am unaware.

May the words I commit to the page, and the meditations of my heart that led them there, be acceptable in the sight of Him who’s ways are perfect.