When I am at work, I dream of what I will write when I get home. It has become a part of me, to wonder what words I have to offer a blank page. Is it a writer’s destiny to write, or is it providence for the words to finally find an author? And have all things already been written in one form or another?
These questions I often ponder as I take a seat at my Compaq. But the one thing I never speculate about, the one item I know for certain, is that whatever ends up filling the blank spaces, I will always pray it gives glory to Host of Heaven. For there is know better reason to fill a page with the twenty-six letters of our alphabet than to give glory to the One who is the Supreme Author; and His autograph of love is etched upon our hearts.
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