Writing to Write

Someone asked me the other day why I don’t write much anymore. I quickly breezed over the question giving excuses like “I’ve been so busy” and “My computer is broken.” Really though, while both those excuses are true, that night when I went to bed I wondered what my real reason for not writing was. It’s not for lack of stories to tell. There are stories of traveling to Turkey,  stories of friends and neighbors, stories of sorrow and sickness, stories of life and death. There are funny stories of getting stuck in the snow, of my dog running away and and finding him weeks later. There are stories of God’s goodness and stories of God’s healing, there are stories that I want to see come true and there are stories I wish I could erase and rewrite. It is not for lack of stories to write, it is because there are too many. To many stories and an inadequate way to relay them to you.  It’s simply that, at this moment, I don’t know how to find the words to put them onto this tiny page on this endless vaccum called the internet.

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