on writing...

I always believed that in order to write, something important had to happen. Days will pass without a single major event and I will scratch my head wondering what to say next. I will dive into my past, project into the future, or force the present to succumb to my needs for a good story. Usually, I end up with muddled thoughts and a headache. I am realizing what needs to be said will come in time, without my help.

Since I graduated from college, I have never really had to look for a job they tend to find me. I have made contact with people. I have talked and inquired about positions. However, despite my charms, every job I have held has been one that fell into my lap. In Charleston, I was approached about interviewing for a DCE position, twice. In Richmond, I was transitioned from intern to staff member in the counseling center. My service at Southminster Presbyterian Church was a gift from a friend.

Now, in Denver, I have been approached about preaching in a rural congregation. It is odd that my life has worked this way. I imagine some have had similar luck. I also imagine it rarely happens for others. I can even imagine others struggling to find their place in the world. If I have any faith at all, it is seen in how I view work.

There are areas where I struggle mightily; these areas come naturally to others. I am a social coward at times. I am not unapproachable, nor am I rude. However, the words that come naturally on the keyboard get lost in conversation. I continue to work on that part of my life. I guess there are almost always trade-offs. That is what makes me unique, what makes you unique also.

I wish writing was easier or that I had more faith in what I say. I long for words and events to fall into my lap. I envy the interesting lives of others, sometimes wishing to awaken to the same drama. Easy doesn’t cut it though. I think my best stuff comes out of my struggles. If I don’t wrestle then I gain little except empty words. My life is no more important than any other, just different. My words are my own, my thoughts are my opinions. They are already important to me. If, somehow, they connect with your life then those connections are important for you as well.

Nothing earth shattering or especially revelatory occurred today. I woke up. I went for a walk. I ran some errands. I agreed to preach two Sundays at Byers Community Church. I played a computer game and bought a book and ate Chinese for dinner. It is these days that prepare me for the drama. They are not unimportant because they make up the bulk of my life. If I breathe, think, move, speak then my day is not wasted. It is the same with writing. If it breathes, thinks, moves or speaks to another then no word is ever wasted.

grace and peace



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