They say that everyone has a gift of some kind. If you spend five minutes on social media, it is apparent how many different kinds of talent there are. People are so creative, and I admire all the different hobbies and the variety of ways people express themselves. Quilting, scrapbooking, fishing, gardening, painting, dancing, working on projects - all are wonderful endeavors, and when pursued with passion, produce amazing results to be admired.
As a child and young adult, most people thought my gift was music, because I was heavily involved with it, and it came easily to me. (That was, in fact, a big part of the draw for me. I am basically lazy, and it came easily!) Everyone expected me to major in music in college and go on to do something musical, because from the outside, music was the center of my life. I think most people were very surprised when I tossed it aside without giving it much thought, given that music was what I was "known" for as I was growing up.
Of course, I do love music, and I have some aptitude for it. If notes are written on a page, I can usually play them on the piano or sing them and acquit myself reasonably well. But I am not really anything special in the musical realm. There are a millions of other people out there who have as much, if not more, musical ability than I do. In fact, even in my own family, I am outshone by pretty much everyone. I am so envious of my brother and nieces and nephew, who can all play by ear, never need to look at a note, and can figure out any tune in less than five seconds just by listening. That is what I call talent, and I don't have it.
I have a passion for music. It soothes my soul and calms my mind. When I am stressed, I play or sing, and it soothes me. But I have always known it was not my true gift. I can go for weeks without touching my keyboard, and my life is not any less for it. As I have matured, I have realized you can live without a passion, albeit not as happily. Gifts are more compelling, more immediate, more essential.
Writing is so much a part of me that I could not live without the capacity to do it. I have been writing since I first learned how to put words on a page as a child. My mother still has my first story, written when I was six or seven, about a deer that my dad tried to save when it was hung up on a fence. (It was not a happy ending, unfortunately.)
Whether I am a good writer or not is certainly a matter of personal opinion, and quite frankly, depends on the piece and the day. But writing is part of my very being. It is a window into my mind and my soul, and I think it is the way God has gifted me to share my life journey with others.
People often remark on how easily it must come to me, putting words on a page, because I do it so often. And certainly, if I had more time, I could write every day. The thoughts are always stirring in my head, and I have a long list of different topics I would like to cover. But does good writing come easily? Is the gift something to be taken for granted, like breathing or walking? That is a different question altogether.
I think anyone with creative talent has experienced blocks at times. You struggle to find a way to express yourself in your own medium. I am no different in this regard. I will sit down at my computer to write something that has been brewing in my head for days or weeks, and nothing inspirational comes out through my fingers. They are just words. Flat. Dull. Lifeless.
It is frustrating, to have the thoughts, but to be unable to express them in a way that resonates, even with myself. I have gone through many periods of struggle, waiting for inspiration to return. In these down turns, I have been forced to give myself time and space in my head to toss my ideas around, to let them ferment and grow and expand, until I finally break free and find something of value in them.
One thing I have realized during the dry periods is that while my writing can entertain or possibly inspire, that is not their true value. God created me and whatever talents I have, and the best way to honor and praise him is to give back to him what he has given to me. I do my best writing when it is in praise and thanksgiving to him. When I try to produce verbal magic on my own, it is uninspired and uninspiring. It is not much of a gift, even to me, much less to anyone else.
Mountaintop writing comes from God. My words are not mine, they are his. My thoughts are put there by the one whose vision is eternal, not temporal. When I forget myself, when I think the talent is my own doing, I am unworthy of the gift, and I am stymied. Writer's block is a reminder that it is only through God that I touch others, and I am nothing on my own.
Today I am grateful for the writer's block that serves to remind me I am not here for me, but for God. My words, whether sacred or secular, are a representation of my place as God's child, and inspiration comes from him alone. In a profane world filled with hollow praise, my gift is God's, and is best used for his glory. My passion is for me, my gift is for God. I am grateful to have reached the place where I know the difference.
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