Just over a year ago today I wrote this passage. Since then my life has changed. I have just published my first novel, Witnesses, as an eBook on Amazon as well as a hard copy for local readers; and I have been living my dream. But I never thought it would be as wonderful and fulfilling as it is. Not only have I written one book, but God has given me the inspiration to write more. I love it. I find writing energizing and enjoyable. There are days when I can write for hours – and others when it is a struggle to get a word down on paper. But no matter. Things happen that make me suddenly see God’s hand in my life – the inspiration comes – and I write again. I pray that this little passage will give you an idea of how I love to write.
May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in Him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.
It is cool and grey – not quite as I had imagined it all these years. And yet the sky through the hibiscus is glowing gold with the rising sun on this early summer morning.
I put my pen and notebook down on the table, purchased a while ago, specifically for this purpose. I fetch a cushion (it has rained in the night and the chair is damp) and my special cup of vanilla cappuccino and look around me.
A small dove wanders past, not two metres from me, intent on her breakfast. I can hear guinea fowl piping across the road and a Klaas’ cuckoo calls from the trees. The grass is fresh green after the rain and the garden looks lively with its freshly washed colours. Egrets, geese and a heron fly over, intent on returning to their hungry young families. The geese call, warning intruders of their coming.
I sigh in contentment. When seeking my home I had hoped for a space where I could write. The charming little room looking out into the garden at the back and the roses in the front was a delight.
But the tree – the tree outside the cottage window is one of my favourites. A graceful Chinese maple, its pretty seed heads and delicate leaves give dappled shade on the warmest of days. I have placed a round wooden table and two chairs under its branches. They have always been inviting but, somehow, I have never had occasion to sit here. But today is different. For today is a new beginning.
For over fifty years I have wanted to write to bring pleasure to others. I have never quite known what to write and have always been too busy to think too much about it. Today my life is changing and so this morning, glancing around at the geraniums and delphiniums, the last of the poppies and the exquisite pink lanterns of the fuchsia next to me, I know that now is the time.
And as I drink my coffee and a robin begins his love song in the branches above my head I know that my dream is about to come true – and – picking up my pen, I begin to write.