A Return to My First Love: Writing
From the moment I first put pen to paper in high school, writing flowed through me like a divine spring. While my hands now spend their days Making Rosaries - each bead a prayer, each knot a meditation - there's a persistent whisper in my heart that reminds me of those early days when words danced across pages. I miss that.
Writing was my first love, my original gift. Like David with his psalms or Paul with his letters, I felt closest to God when expressing truth through the written word. Though my ministry has led me down the beautiful path of Rosary Making, I recognize that initial spark of creativity - that urge to write - as one of God's most precious gifts to me.
Perhaps these two callings aren't so different after all. Both writing and Rosary Making require patience, devotion, and a willingness to weave something meaningful from simple elements. Yet writing remains that first passion, that original language through which God spoke to my young heart and taught me to speak back to the world. It was writing that helped me spread the Joy of the Rosary, through six years of Chrissy's suffering, and her passing, my three strokes and I found that writing enabled me to connect with everyone, no matter where they were in life or in the world. I am blind to status, color, language, and education, my only goal is to share love and to help others grow.
Writing Can Touch Your Heart, Just Like Music
There's something almost mystical about how writing seeps into the soul, isn't there? Like a melody that catches you off guard and suddenly you're feeling things you didn't even know were there. When the right words flow, they create this sacred space where your innermost thoughts and feelings - those tender, hidden parts of yourself - can finally breathe and be seen.
Writing has this unique power to bypass all our careful defenses, much like how a particular song can suddenly bring tears to your eyes when you're driving alone. It's that moment when you're pouring words onto a page and suddenly you're writing something so true, so raw, that it almost takes your breath away. You didn't even know that truth was living inside you until it emerged through your pen or keyboard.
It's vulnerable, yes, sometimes achingly so. But there's also something incredibly freeing about it - like finally exhaling after holding your breath for too long. The way a powerful song can express exactly what you're feeling when you can't find the words yourself, writing becomes this intimate conversation between your heart and the page. It's as if each word is a note in a personal symphony, resonating with your deepest truths and most cherished hopes.
And just like how music can reach across time and space to touch someone else's heart, writing has this amazing ability to capture moments of pure emotional truth that others can recognize and feel in their own souls. It's that universal language of human experience, speaking in whispers and shouts, in poetry and prose, in all the ways our hearts know how to sing. So in my final thought on this page, I'll say: I'm back and it feels amazing.
