Everything, But Not Much

            It’s everything to me, but sometimes it doesn’t feel like much. 

            It doesn’t fit nicely into some type or category, and it seems pretty random much of the time.

            And so often it is the only thing of value I can offer.

            Bobbie’s request for me to write something up for her to share at her neighbor’s memorial service surprised and pleased me:  that I could help someone in that way had never occurred to me.  We had a lovely visit in her waterfront home, and I took notes as she talked about her neighbor, Charlotte, who died last month, listening closely to try to get a sense of their friendship.  And then I went home and prepared supper and hung out with Mom, who seemed a little lonely, and watched the news and took a call from my son.  And then, finally, I had the chance to look at my notes and write.

            I thought about Bobbie’s sincerity and compassion.  I imagined her reading aloud my record of her memories.  And things came together rather quickly, for which I was relieved as I wrote, because I was counting on God’s creative nudge.

            It is no Pulitzer Prize writing, but it is something to help a friend who needed help to say what is on her heart.  

            The personal prize for me is getting to know Bobbie better and realizing that God can use my writing gift in any way He chooses.  I want so much to help others discover the gifts they cannot see in their own lives, the things that are as natural to them as breathing: the things that might not seem like much to them but which are God’s unique imprint.