Word Stew

I love words. They seem to say exactly what I want to say if I can find just the right ones to express the nuanced things I think about. I don’t believe that most people take that much time or care when they speak. Not that I’m some sort of vocabulary champion but I do tend to look for just the right word to reflect what I mean. My obsessive and compulsive nature makes sure of that feat so I spend endless time digging in my mental bank. But I don’t care if I’m the exception to the rule that one must say very little and be as cryptic as possible. That’s not for me.
I like explaining things to the nth degree. Does that mean I’m beating a dead horse? Maybe, at times. But who’s judging? I write to push out my thoughts and dreams and fears and all of the emotions and ideas that bombard my brain and heart every day. Some people love the way I say what I say. Others don’t.
But the thing is that I’m writing for me, to get my words out, for me. And I guess that’s why I was able to risk the scorn or critiques of others when I got my manuscript published.
For me, the journey of writing down my deepest angst-ridden woes and finding my voice to counteract the pain of what we experienced losing everything, that was the prize. So as much as I liked hearing the praise from some readers or the opposite, the condemnation or silences from others, I stayed pretty neutral. For my writing, even in my book, is for me. This is how I escaped from what seemed like perpetual melancholia and inertia in my life after our fall from grace. This is how I began to look forward rather than backwards. This is how I saved my own life from the ongoing self-deprecation and despair.
What wasn’t my happiest time of my life, became the vehicle to grow up and find my inner wisdom to help me navigate my new path. It wasn’t easy or in any way straightforward, but it was necessary to get past that trauma and into the light of God’s grace.
So, when I write my blogs, I find myself delighting in telling a silly story with a deeper meaning or a deep story with a silly message. All of these anecdotes comprise the moments in my life. Writing these weird little tales helps me see the beauty of the world from the microcosm of our humble rented abode at the House of Cluck-Cluck. And that means everything to me.