As a member of the Redbud Writers Guild, I had the opportunity to write for the Redbud blog this week.
Here is the start of my article. You can read the full piece here!
I have been writing, now, for decades. It started back in elementary school, when we were given blank books in second grade, books that were pure white, inside and out. The covers, the pages, the seams of the binding—all of it, whiter than winter clouds. There were no lines, no rules. Just space. For a student who went to school long before photo websites offered personalized books for any and every occasion, a blank book was a mystery and a rarity. It felt like a prize.
And all of these pages were given to me—for filling. I was given empty space and also the opportunity to fill it. It felt, to me, like a great gift.
It also felt like a burden.
All writing is like that for me—a gift and a burden. I am not handed blank books anymore; there is no teacher setting one down on my desk every month. Instead, I open a new screen and seek to fill the space with meaningful words that recall moments and share stories and offer truth. I do this because I have always been drawn to writing, and because have spent the better part of the last ten years studying words, learning how to tie them together with strands so thin they part like fumes in the wake of a whisper. I have spent time with words, learning how to train them like sentinels waiting for the trumpet blow, ready to release the hammering shock of truth to a willing reader. It is a gift to be able to write. It is also a holy burden to seek to do that well, and faithfully. The gift and the burden, bound up together.
This is the start of my article for the Redbud Writers Guild–a group of female, Christian writers who are committed to expanding the feminine voice in our churches, communities, and culture. I feel privileged to be a part of this guild of women and encourage you to check out our website and the other female writers and speakers there!