I am a writer. I began my writing journey in third grade as a poet. Sandwiched between two orange pieces of construction paper and fastened together with little metal clasps was my first masterpiece, a book of badly written poems about dogs I had known, horses I longed for and Old Joe, my uncle's mule.
And, so it began.
Years later with a Journalism Degree in hand, I began writing a weekly newspaper column for five daily papers. FOOTSTEPS & HEARTBEATS ran for seventeen years. I retired the column when I decided to dedicate myself to full-time writing. I now have a myriad publishing credits from newspapers to magazines, some national. I also have two published books under my belt: Hugs From Heaven: Portraits of a Woman’s Faith and Man From Macedonia: My life of service, struggle, faith and hope. My first historical fiction is in its final rewrite.
At age nine my bravado was unmatched. But, as an adult, I would not have had the courage to even think I could string two words together if it had not been for my husband, Gary. He believed in me before I believed in me. For my 26th birthday the Hubs bought me this little metal file box and a stack of note cards. (It was 1976, pre-computers, iPads and such like.) He also gave me a book by one of my favorite authors at the time. Then he said, “This book is good, but you can do better. So get started.” Or something like that. So, I did. While my sons, a three-year-old and a three-week-old napped, I began the journey. I dusted off my antique manual Underwood typewriter, the same one I had written all of my high school and college papers on, and got to work teaching myself how to write.
I’m proud of many things in my life, my writing of course, but there is something even more precious to me, my family. Gary and I raised three sons together. They in turn married some mighty fine young ladies and together, they blessed us with ten way above-average grandchildren. My quiver is full.
However, after forty-two years of marriage Gary's body lost its fight with cancer as his soul found victory and reunion with the God he loved and served. To say we miss him is a silly understatement. He left a hole in our universe, but he also left his family with the assurance that we were loved by the best.
Now, four years later, I strive to live my life making choices I know would make the Hubs proud.
Stories connect us, grow us, teach us, and entertain us. They can show us profound truths we might otherwise miss. The Hubs told me to go write those stories. So I am.