Excitement

'Tis good to feel excited again! I could not wait to begin writing this evening. I just finished movie night with my friend, Erica, and, though I should be reading for my Economics class, am sitting here writing this.

During my brother's English lesson on Friday I flipped through my folder of compositions from my college freshman writing class. I was searching for a handout, or something with directions scribbled on them, demonstrating a format for "Summary/Reaction" papers. I found no such direction, nor hardly any other formal written instruction for that matter. I recalled that Dr. Clines taught purely from situational context. You must construct, critique, and refine your own work. Outside influences, rules, and other guidelines were only tools, not magic formulas, for making your writing relative to others.

His favorite tool was group sharing. With a class of only eight people, we had an ideal audience  for presenting our material. Every other week we would gather in a circle and one by one read aloud the draft we had prepared. Upon each conclusion we would wait in silence as each classmate filled out the "Positive/Negative/Questions" columns drawn on their notebook paper and wrote a brief summary of their overall impression of the work. These, along with a review in the same format by Dr. Clines, were passed to the presenter after each person shared their comments out loud. The only restriction placed upon our comments was that we were to discuss the writing, not the writer. We were blessed to be a class of gifted authors.

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April 1, 2010

I am returning to this post about a month after having begun the original draft. I am happy to report the excitement still remains! The art of writing still calms my soul and excites my spirit as my words help me to soar above my circumstances as I face them directly.

This past weekend, I finally read for my Economics class. I should not be surprised that it inspired questions and a discussion among my family that lead to a new prompt I wish to write about. Prompts seemed to come continuously this week. They have been duly noted on paper for future expansions in writing.

The experiences I gained in Dr. Clines' writing class prepared me to write fearlessly--to explore and disclose both truth and lies on paper. Though I cannot write on a daily basis, due to time constraints, I still write with a gunuine authority and interest.

Reflection

A reflection of the hope I cling to in response to the mourning of the poet of Lamentations…

Helpless, cold, alone, angry, hurt, resentful, selfish, self centered, mournful, comfortless, vengeful, sad, confused, and shocked.

How can I feel so much at once and yet feel nothing at all? My heart and mind are as numb as my bruised and bleeding feet. I shouldn’t be walking through the rubble, but I feel no pain, so I press on. I don’t feel the tears as they run down my cheeks. I find proof of them only as I brush the hair from face; the dusty strands are damp.

I haven’t lost my sense of smell. The odor of decay carries through the streets and mingles with the smoke of the smoldering ashes. Widows mourn their husbands; children cry at their feet. Tortured men wander dazed through the charred remains of arches that used to be doorways. What fine homes used to stand on these corners… what fine families used to live in them.

I keep walking, tattered clothes dragging. I fall to my knees at the gate of my destination. But, NO! The Temple has been shamed! My feelings are freed and I weep. What hope is there for us now?

“We have nothing left to offer you, Lord,” I cry in my heart, “What can we do but beg for your mercy and cling to your honor?"

Jeremiah 33:3-4,6-8

The LORD said, “Call to me, and I will answer you; I will tell you wonderful and marvelous things that you know nothing about. I, the LORD, the God of Israel, say that the houses of Jerusalem and the royal palace of Judah will be torn down as a result of the siege and the attack…But, I will heal this city and its people and restore them to health. I will show them abundant peace and security. I will make Judah and Israel prosperous, and I will rebuild them as they were before.”

God PROMISED. He knew what was going to happen and He still PROMISED. The sin, the conscious choice to defy Him… He KNEW. And He PROMISED. His promises have nothing to do with our actions, but everything to do with the Honor of His Word. When our hearts are made humble and we earnestly repent, God restores us, not because we deserve it, but because He loves us and will Honor His Word.

Confession

I have been lax in my personal journal writing for going on two years now. What used to feel familiar and comforting now seems a daunting chore. As I face a blank page, the smooth, round pen turns angular. I rotate it between my thumb and forefinger hoping to find a place it can rest. My mind starts racing. The clear pool of thought that inspired me to pick up the tools of my trade begins swirling as a gushing whirlpool. There is no calm place to settle.


I long to be honest again, opening my heart and my mind to the light of the blank page before me. There is nothing so condemning, or sanctifying, as confessing one's self to the blank page. The woven fibers soak in the truths and lies disclosed to them, safely stowing the locution for reflection across time.

The blank page of a private journal is guarded by an opaque wall. Only God and the one who confesses gain access through a small keyed gate at the far side. There is no entrance for others. I am disgusted by this, this atmosphere of taciturnity I have created for myself. I have stifled my own voice and left myself numb to the voices of others.

I feel the need to confess to others, to be transparent to those I claim to call sisters and brothers. Is this why I can no longer fill the blank pages of my journals?

“Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.”- 1 Corinthians 13: 6-7