my notes...

Months have passed since I've written anything. Recognizing and contemplating this fact leaves me disappointed and sad because I feel, at some level, this is a betrayal to who I am. I am an author. This is not to say I am a self-professed believer in my own literary abilities...not even slightly. It's just that hidden within the folds of who I am is this urgency, this necessity to pour out the intimacies of my heart. I have had, for as long as I have known, this kinship with words and their miraculous ability to paint on the canvas of the mind and to heal the most afflicted of souls. It is often as the letters are spilling onto the page, whether by pen or by keys, that I feel most acutely alive. Although the phrases and words have changed with time, wisdom, experiences and maturity, the subject has forever been the same; The One Great Love of My Life. Despite the varying forms that this scribing has manifested itself over time, instinctively and divinely it has always drawn me back to the simple sharing of the most definitive truth of my life- I am loved...miraculously and incomprehensibly loved. It is because of this truth that I...exist, breathe, laugh, love...write. I am My Beloved's and He is Mine. This is the epic tale that great novelists live their lives to tell and so must I. As God Himself is authoring a romance intended to captivate and consume this heart of mine, I will, in smitten response, continue to take and share my notes...