Compelled to Write

Maybe most people start a blog in the way that I am about to, saying things like, “I don’t consider myself a writer but I’m going to try anyway,” or “I don’t know if anyone will want to read all this stuff, but, here goes!” And that is definitely how I feel. I’ve always had a journal. I can look back and see what I was thinking and doing as far back as 3rd grade. When I look back at those journals I see a girl (or teenager, or young woman, or mom) writing just to make some sense of the world. To bring some clarity and control to all the chaos.  And that is why I feel compelled to do it. I’m going to ignore the  fear, insecurity and vulnerability that I feel about writing and just do it. I want to use this space to make some sense of a world that often seems so senseless. I guess that makes me seem like such a cynic. I’m not. My husband would say that I approach all people fully expecting them to be my best friend and he’s right, I really have been wired to see the good in people (I count that as grace from God). But I still wrestle and question and doubt  and wonder. And the best way I can work through those things is by writing. So here goes.

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