Words Written From My Heart

Today is a new day and opportunity for me to walk into a new phase of my life. This is so very exiting for me to be writing again and sharing my heart, my thoughts, my prayers, my devotions, my words of encouragement and inspiration all for others to read.

For over 35 years, sitting down with a pen and paper, was something I was passionate about on so many levels. First of all, writing was a way for me to stay connected with my friends and family as I traveled the country as a “PK”, affectionately known as a “Preacher’s Kid”. I made friends at each church we visited, exchanged addresses and promised to write. Long term friendships began this way and many of those people are still friends of mine today. I rented my own P.O. Box when I was 13, because I was receiving more mail than my parents. That experience was thrilling for me, so I had some business cards printed and began to hand them out to my new-found friends. I truly value my friendships and for over 40 years, I have collected letters that are stuffed in my attic, from the many contacts I made through my travels.

Writing was also a way for me to express my deepest, most intimate feelings hidden away in my diary. Writing was very therapeutic for me. I recall many times as a youngster, needing someone to listen to me. However, there was a rule enforced that stated, “children are to be seen, not heard”. So I turned to writing to express myself, it was my way of saying what was on my mind; what I was feeling, the good and the bad. Never anticipating that someone would read it, I just felt better after writing my feelings, thoughts and dreams down on paper.

I have been writing since I was 9 years old, when I learned to write in cursive in 3rd grade and learned how to create the body of a letter and address the envelope. I love writing, almost as much as I do reading. They are both my favorite past times and something I do with a lot of passion. I have a collection of poems, short stories, prayers, songs, diaries and journals. When something was bothering me or I needed to express my frustration or anger or maybe I felt the desire to share something of beauty I experienced or dreamed or imagined, I would grab my notebook and start writing. I felt better, as soon as I let the thoughts flow into letters forming into words and creating sentences on paper.

There was a time in my life fourteen years ago, that my words were stifled and I became paralyzed by fear and intimidation. I could not pen a single word. Even signing my name was painful. The one thing I loved the most, other than life and breathing, was savagely ripped away and stolen from me in a single, evil act from someone very close to me. This person took my writings, my notebooks and journals and exposed my most naked, vulnerable side to the public. Court documents were filed and passages from my journals were duplicated on a copier and passed around to hurt and humiliate me. It worked! He succeeded! He played a more devious evil game than I could have ever imagined. I never, in a million years would have thought he would do this to me, but he did. My heart was crushed, betrayed by someone I loved and married and had children with and supported in so many ways for nearly 20 years. How could someone be so evil and hateful and vindictive? During this time, I needed to write about my feelings, my pain, my heartache, my despair, yet I could not, for the life of me, pick up a pen and paper any longer. I couldn’t even send a simple thank-you note or write a Happy Birthday unless it was already printed, without feeling sick to my stomach. I tried so many times to make myself write, buying the pretty journals and my favorite pens, but no matter how I tried, I could not make any words make it to the paper. Just picking up the pen and allowing it to roll between my fingers brought a sickness to my stomach. This terrible ordeal I was in the midst was devastating for me and my daughters, but in a nut shell, we survived. We made it out of the abusive marriage and custody battle to live in a new city, in a beautiful home with a wonderful, Godly man as my new husband and terrific “dad” to my daughters.

God healed the pain and memories of my former life and restored all that the enemy had stolen from me, but I was still unable to write. After much prayer and soul-searching and reading about forgiveness and setting boundaries, a miracle took place in my life. I reached the point of finally forgiving my “ex” for all the years of abuse, infidelity and manipulation inflicted upon me and spilling over onto my daughters. I can talk about him and my past now without feeling the pain of betrayal and shredding of my heart and crying my eyes out. I realized that forgiving him was not that I was saying, “It is OK the way you treated me or my daughters”, nor was I saying, “I forgive and forget what you have done to me”. But what I was actually saying is,”I release myself from being your hostage any longer, I am allowing myself to heal and be set free from you and move on to the next level of my life!”

In making the decision to forgive him, I found healing. I was able to pick up a pen and write again. My heart today is full of love, gratitude and words of encouragement and I desire to share with others my words ‘WRITTEN FROM MY HEART!” May you feel inspired, light-hearted and lifted to a new, higher level of thinking and living with my words. May you be challenged and understand something that may have been unclear in the past by my words too. Please feel free to post your comments and your own personal testimony on my blog.

Thank-you for taking the time to read and share with me. May GOD truly and richly bless you always.