off and running....well...off and writing that is...

    I think I've always had the desire to write. I kept diaries for as long as I can remember. "Dear Dairy, today I went to school." or "Dear Diary, mom made tacos for dinner."  These small tidbits were the first simple entries I would write in my first diary that I recieved when I was just seven years old.   As I got older, and my interests expanded, the entries in my diary became more and more detailed.  It was between the pages of these small books that I would talk about my deepest thoughts, feeling, hopes and dreams.  Starting at the earliest age, I've always enjoyed putting my thoughts on paper. To me, it is much easier writing them down than actually speaking them.
   In college, I studied English, and my desire was to write and edit. Fortunately for me, writing came natural.  It was about the only thing in my life that did,  so I embraced it.  Thankfully, I had a great English professor that saw potential in my writing. He was a great help and encouragement to me. 
    Well, long story short. I finished college, got married, had kids and stopped writing.  I didn't just stop a little bit...I mean, I stopped completely, cold turkey, done, zilch...nada!
     I had entered mom mode, and was consumed with all things baby. The smell, the feel, the warmth and love of my children easily took the place of the cold tablet and dark ink.  I loved every minute of those years.  Of course, there was no time for writing or putting thoughts to paper; diapers had to be changed, stories had to be read, laundry had to be done, meals had to be made, and so on and so on....
     There's lots of good stuff to write about in those years...and, I'm sure I will get to it in time...
but, for now...back to today...and how I remembered this writing thing I used to do...

     A year and a half ago, my beloved Grandpa died. It was, without a doubt, one of the hardest moments of my life. My Grandpa was my hero, and I loved him with all my heart.  When he died, a piece of me died with him. 
    As preparations were being made for Grandpa's funeral, it was decided that we would ask our Pastor to speak at the graveside service.  Pastor asked if I would be willing to write down some words describing my grandpa since he had never met him. Pastor explained this would help him make the service more personal.
Sure, I told Pastor, that wouldn't be a problem.  That night I went home, and for the first time in 15 years, I started writing. It was beautiful. It was as though I was renewing a long, lost friendship.  I simply poured my heart onto paper. 
The next day, I gave Pastor what I had written.  I apologised to him because I wasn't sure if  it was any good at all. It had been a long time since I had written anything, and frankly, I was a bit scared of somebody else reading what I had wrote.  What if it didn't sound good or didn't make sense?!  I am certainly my worst critic! When we met with Pastor the day of the service, I asked him if my paper had been any help to him at all.  It was the next moment that was one of those, "light bulb" moments for me. I'll never forget his words: 

 "Shannon, I didn't know you could write like that. I couldn't put your paper down. It made me feel as if I've known your grandpa my entire life. You really have a gift."

    So, in the midst of tragedy and heartache, a passion for something I loved was rekindled...it was as if you could say, I got a tiny piece of my heart back.  I felt like Grandpa was still there, helping me just as he always had, and, I could still see him smiling.

It's taken me over a year now to get started. Life just gets so busy.  But, I've made up my mind to slow down each day and capture moments as I fly....