The Gift of Words

When I was a little girl I made up rhymes and songs.  Everywhere I went I was singing and putting words and music together.  It was something that was ingrained into the essence of who I was.  Words were magic to me and I used them all the time.  I don’t think I ever felt like I was overly smart or savvy, but I was good with words.  What is it about a poem or a story that can transport us to another place?  I remember reading too.  I used words as an escape from anything that caused me sadness or stress.  I dove into books by Laura Ingalls Wilder and I read Nancy Drew.  I remember my fourth grade teacher reading The Chronicles of Narnia and I was utterly hooked.  It was pure magic.  Reading about a place where you could escape into an alternate universe, live with magical beasts, and have a completely different life, left me even more enamored than ever with words on a page. I’m thankful for that teacher that read to me, and for a Mother that encouraged reading, even when she never had time to read for pleasure herself.  I am a student of words, words that inspire me and encourage me.  As I got older I read other books that I fell in love with;  Jane Eyre, Wuthering Heights, Little Women, Pride and Prejudice, and countless others.  What all of the books that I read seemed to have in common was tough chicks that stood up for themselves, and amazing heroins in a time when women were never looked at as powerful.  I guess it was always a fantasy for me to feel like I was that powerful, or could stand up for myself like those characters did. 

My problem was that I didn’t.  I would go to say something and I would get too wordy or I would say too much.  I would struggle with making my point and often go on and on so that whoever was listening didn’t really understand what I was trying to say.  But fast forward, I’m much better with this now.  I’ve learned that I don’t have to make it so difficult for myself.  Writing has taught me that I’m so much stronger than I ever new. I’ve talked in the past about journaling and it is a staple for me.  I hope that someday when I’m gone my kids and grand kids will go back and read the words that I wrote about them, and even about my life before them.  I hope when reading my words they will feel how much I loved them, how much they made me laugh, and also how I worried about their struggles.  Writing for me isn’t just a hobby, it is my lifeline.  I have written at least fifteen original scripts for holiday shows that my students have performed.  I have written six scripts for the show we do in the the summer. But for the first time in my life I am writing for me, just me.  I started this blog over a year ago after thinking about starting it for probably five years, and I was paralyzed with fear. I’m here to tell you that when I set up my wordpress account and website, I felt physically sick.  I had no idea what the heck I was doing and still don’t a lot of the time. 

It began as a place to share recipes because I am an avid cook, baker, entertainer, and cocktail maker.  I always had friends and family asking me to give them recipes or ideas for their events, so it was “no-brainer.”  But what I have discovered is that it has given me a place to talk about topics that I’m passionate about.  It has given me a voice to talk about my personal journey through countless struggles and maybe inspire others to do the same.  When we read that someone else is going through struggles similar to our own, it gives us hope.  It let’s us know we’re not alone, and that is powerful.  I’m not prophetic, I will never claim to be, but sharing words on a page is perfection to me.  I wrote a script this past year for our summer show and it is by far my favorite.  It felt like me, it breathed like me, and each word on the page was woven together in a way that I didn’t know I was capable of doing.  Spending this last year writing has made me realize that I shouldn’t have let fear stop me from doing something that comes so naturally to me.  

Why do we let that happen?  Why do we let the gift of words be taken from us?  Of course for you it may not be words, but any dream that you don’t go after because fear sits in the driver’s seat.  If you’ve seen the movie Pretty Woman at the beginning there is a voice that says, “Welcome to Hollywood, what’s your dream?”  It’s funny,  but I always think of that line.  I think of it, I suppose, because I have always been looking for mine.  I have always wondered what I’m supposed to do when I grow up.  Crazy right?  I have been searching for as long as I can remember, but maybe it’s staring me in the face.  Being able to put pen to paper, or fingers on a keyboard, is my dream.  It gives me more happiness and peace than anything I’ve done before.  I started this process with an open mind and said to myself, “even if no one reads what I write I will still be happy.”  The amazing thing is as of this week I’ve written over 60,000 words and have had over 22,000 readers.  I know that’s not much to the writers out there in the universe, but to this forty-something-year-old mom, it’s pretty great.  

You are never too old to follow your dreams, you are never to old to shut down the fear.  You are the only person in charge of what comes next, so get going.  My words to me are a gift.  They are magic.  I’m now writing two books and who knows if they’ll ever get published, but at least I’m taking the risk.  It’s because of all of you who have taken the time to tell me that what I wrote spoke to you.  It’s all of you who said, “thank you for what you wrote, you have no idea what it meant to me! I can relate on so many levels!” So thanks for taking the time to read my scribbles and share them.   I’m going to keep on going for as long as I can.  Oh, and if you know of anyone who needs a blogger or writer, send them on over to my page.   Maybe, just maybe, they’ll like what they read.  Thanks for following me on this journey!  “What’s your dream?”

And that’s my dish on this rainy, gray day.  Peace.

xoxo Deb