Reading a blog by a very gifted writer, I was struck by the profound meaning of one of her sentences.
“This is my handicap – as a writer I must live my life twice.”
As I sat here thinking of the way in which I’m unable to carry on a flowing conversation with someone, yet can write down half a book in the span of a few hours, I suddenly realized I had this in common with her. We write. We experience, and then have an overwhelming need to share that experience, no matter what that entails, with someone. Anyone. Even if no one is listening – or reading. We share it to the quietly listening computer screen that glows in understanding.
But we also share the experience both times with the Word. The Word that has been through it all, right from our first breath and first steps, and continues to be there as we regale him with our experiences. With the part of creation that struck us as significant to write about. The Word knows all, sees all, hears all – and loves us both times we live this life.
Many times I’m reluctant to share those experiences. Just as someone needs time to process something they’ve been through, so my experiences find meaning once pen hits paper; once my fingers explore the keyboard. The reluctance comes from a hesitation to live it over again – of simply wanting to experience something new in the pages of a book and live out another’s experiences. But conviction sets in and I know that it is my job to process with the written word. I don’t dwell on life’s little moments in any other way, and in order to get true meaning out of it, I MUST live it twice.
So forgive me if I repeat myself. If my experiences aren’t epic or memoir-worthy. In fact, they are humble – all of them. But the Word and I grow closer in this way, and as I continue to share my experiences, so I encounter fellowship.