Writing

I am learning some things about myself, especially the last few days. I used to think I could write. It began nearly fifty years ago when I was a young teen-ager, or maybe even before that, when I first started keeping a diary.

But, recently I have come to see that I am not really a "writer". Oh, that doesn't mean that I don't write.......because I do and I have most of my life. But the past few days I went off to a cabin at a lake to work on a book........a biography of a one-of-a-kind saint. She was such a rare person and I miss her a lot. She turned 95 on June 28 and then went "home" to her many friends and family who have been waiting a long time for her to get there. But mostly, she is with the One she longed to see..........pretty much all of her life.....her precious LORD and Savior, Jesus Christ.

Back to my point about not being a writer! I have discovered that it is not very easy to put down words on a paper that adequately equate an amazing woman who did it right!! Lived well. Loved well. Finished well. I found it much harder than I imagined it would be to tell her story/stories.....many of which I knew so well. The right words eluded me when I tried to described her sweetness, her kindness to all, her joyfulness and her thankful heart. It is clear in my mind....because I saw it and experienced those attributes in various settings with her.

I think I had some self-deception about being able to just write what I knew and thought and loved about her. A writer ought to be able to do that!!