A Hope To Yet Realize by Alan Anderson

“Okay you abcs keep the noise down. I’m trying to write my blog post for our InScribe blog.” Oops, sorry reader friends, I was using my inside voice talking to the words in my head who are eager to get out. The little rascals can get a bit over rambunctious.

The writing prompt for this month asks writers to “Tell us about your first book.” My first book hasn’t been published yet. I guess I could end this post right there but readers may want to know more. Well, ok, since you asked I’ll say more.

Like I said my first book hasn’t been published yet. Did you catch it? I used the word “yet” at the end of the previous sentence. It is indeed a hope to have my first book published as a sole author. Did you notice my tricky use of wording in that last sentence? Okay, I’ll explain.

I had the honour of having four stories published last year in a book I co-authored called Good Grief People (Angel Hope Publishing). I mean it was an amazing experience to have wordy babies of mine sent into the world. It has motivated me even more to persevere in having a book, short stories and articles published.

When I was a healthcare chaplain I remember sitting by the bedside of an elderly woman. During a visit she told me about her life (I’ve heard a lot of life stories from people) including her love of writing. When she informed me she was a writer I became even more excited about her story. In a matter of fact way she said, “I used to love to write but now the words in my head are all muddled. I can’t put them together anymore.”

After hearing those sobering words I realized I must keep on writing. My calling to write is sweet and I love it as much as breathing. My dear writing friends I hope you agree with me. Perhaps you say with me, “I must write!”

I write for a particular audience. They are those who feel hard pressed by the burdens they struggle with in life. They are those screaming at God for the unfairness that has violated their lives. I write for those who grieve everyday that their children have been robbed of life. I write for those trying to make their way through the tunnel of depression. They deserve a voice to encouraging them to know they are not alone.

Without trying to sound melodramatic or heroic, I am one of their voices. I am acquainted with grief over the loss of children. I know the darkness of the tunnel. I know that God loves us even when we believe we are lost and without hope.

Hope without cleaning up the muck of life is what I write. That’s what my blog, Scarred Joy, for instance, is all about. That is what the voices of the words in my head and heart are all about. They are the stories often not heard in this crazy world and society we are part of.

My writing as I persevere may not be the most endearing to people. On the other hand, I know some will resonate with such a voice. It is for those I have mentioned that my hope to be published again will be realized.

Blog: scarredjoy.wordpress.com