The morning looked to be a dismal day, one that would keep a person inside. Maybe a book reading day, I thought. Or a chance to continue my memoir. As a child I would ask my mom, Mom how do you know I will write? Because you love to write. She would say.
Mom was correct, I began writing at a young age and continue today. Writing a memoir is a journey into a different realm. Writing about your life takes on a new meaning. The past, with its memories whether good or bad come to the surface of our minds.
A memoir is not complete until the memories fade beneath the crevices of our mind. Writing is a work in progress never ending until the day we die. Writers make up several class of people. There is no two alike. Just as the languages of the world are diverse so are the ones who pen the words to paper.
By the afternoon the sun decided to peek from the clouds and a day of outdoors began. Summer had the bids on outdoor activities, writer or not. A schedule would ensue for the one who passionately pursued her craft and work in progress would continue.
Just as the seasons change time also moves forward. Life is a entity of uncertainties but people with talent also put forth the effort to continue along the path of creativity. No matter the hours or frustration it can bring.
The work in progress stems from our ability to see within ourselves and know we can create something from the talent God has given. The question being, Do we have enough confidence in ourselves to live the life we know we’re to live?
As writers can we fulfill the call we have on our life? There are those who write for the good and those who write for the dark side. We along with our conscience, as our guide, have to arrive at the moment of decision.
Each individual has a work in progress. Our lives are a masterpiece woven between the heart and mind of the One who created us. Let us pen the words He so lovingly inspired upon our hearts with such gratitude that even we are taken back.