|image via Unsplash.|
I have journals of stories from first grade. There's kid-spelling, eraser marks, and crayon-made illustrations dispersed within the spiral-bound notebooks. And as the story lines and penmanship improved with time, so did my need and love for writing.
As a senior in high school, I had the chance to enter a piece of my writing for a book--I can't for the life of me remember what the book was about, but I was honored to be chosen. I ended up missing the deadline, but the process of writing and editing and then writing again was so fulfilling and challenging. And I loved every single minute of it.
I always dreamed of being a teacher or writer, thinking that the two could never become one. But with my current job as a teacher and owner of this domain and blog, I'm grateful for the chance to dabble in both.
Writing is and has always been my outlet and escape. I have three journals--one online, one for prayers and faith, and the last for my future husband. Each are very near and dear to me and provide me with the chance to reflect, remember, and rejoice in all of life's seasons and experiences.
I've learned so much from writing, even if I don't consider myself a writer. Something about the term writer has always been out of reach for me. I figure you have to be published, with books with your headshot displayed on your office shelf. Or a blog with thousands of followers. Or maybe even an Instagram account with hundreds of likes on each photo.
But maybe, just maybe, being a writer isn't about the audience all the time. Maybe it's about the content, the passion, the love that's found within each sentence and paragraph. Maybe it's more than just what others thing of you and more about what you think of yourself.
So I may not be popular, but I do think that it's about time I considered myself a writer. A writer that writes for Jesus, for growth and healing, and for life. Life is meant to be lived and as a writer, I also think it's meant to be written and remembered for years to come.