The chase begins...... (Part 1)

This is me, chasing a lion.....into a pit.....on a snowy day. With all the fear and trembling that goes with that. If you want to understand what I mean by those words, you will have to stick with me over the next few blog posts because I will unravel it, but I'm going to tell the story from the beginning.

For as long as I can remember, books have been my passion. I read as often as life permits.....and sometimes when it doesn't. One of my earliest memories is getting off the bus in elementary school and walking home while reading a book. I walked right past my house because my nose was literally in the book. Eventually, I looked up and retraced my steps, but I never put the book down.

When I gave my boys a hard time that "I never had a DS or game system to play while I watched my siblings' games", my husband whispered to them, "But she probably had a book!" We all laughed, but he was right. I carried a book everywhere I went. And I was always annoyed if I finished it and had nothing else to read.

All through school, I wrote and edited whenever the opportunity presented itself. When our elementary  and junior high schools published student's work, I volunteered to edit. I chose journalism as an elective in high school and wrote for the school newspaper. I eventually worked my way up to editor and loved every minute of it. In college, I wrote for the yearbook.

Words are important to me. Words I read or hear or say or write. They impact me more than almost anything else. If you know me, you have most likely heard me say, "I read this....." or "Have you read this?" If you are sharing a problem with me, I have probably offered help from something I read.

While words have never stopped being important to me, I stopped writing them. I often think "Why would anyone want to read what I write? There is so much good stuff out there!"

About 2 years ago, I began experiencing a very distinct call to write. In fact, I wrote a blog post about it in December of 2015. I have not been consistent, but the persistence of God's voice about it has been! My question hasn't changed--I still ask "Why? What could I possibly say that is interesting or has not already been said?" And yet, here I am. I cannot shake the conviction that this is something I am supposed to be doing.

There is more to the story, but this is the beginning. This is where I face my fear and chase that lion. I may fall flat on my face and this whole thing was just an exercise in obedience to the still, small voice I keep hearing that says, "Write!"

But in the end, isn't that the most important thing? The obedience even when we cannot understand or see the result. We ask that of our kids, right? We ask them to obey even before their minds can comprehend why we ask them not to run into the street or touch the hot stove or a million other little things. I have told my boys, "You need to obey first. Then you may ask 'Why?'" So, here I am, obeying my Heavenly Father before I understand the why.