Writing is something that is very much “alive.” I can write a piece and three different people can read that same piece of writing and gather three completely different ideas from what I’ve presented through the written word.
That’s partly what I love about the written word and part of what I find so fascinating and awing.
Through writing, we expose only a small portion of our soul. Sometimes, we’re not even saying anything about ourselves explicitly, and yet, through anything we write, we reveal a bit of who we are and the ways through which we view life.
And then, those who read what we write bring an entire set of experiences and backgrounds to our piece, through which they apply whatever message we are trying to convey to their own lives in a very specific, personal way.
Writing fascinates me. I stumble from time to time upon pieces from my past – old, familiar friends, sometimes strangers, shadows of the woman I am now. Sometimes I don’t even recognize my voice within the piece. Sometimes I cringe as I read; sometimes I laugh; most often I smile and thank God that He is faithfully shaping me and growing me through life experience.
We are constantly growing, changing, shifting, engaging. We never stay the same.
Who I am today will not be who I am a week from now; who I am a week from now will not be the woman I am in five years. Writing captures us, gives us snapshots, so to speak, of who we are at various moments on our life’s journey. Half the joy in this crazy adventure called life is that we are always moving, always changing, always developing – sometimes at faster rates than at other times, but nevertheless, we never stay the same. We might deceive ourselves into thinking we have, but change is inevitable – if we can’t see it, others can. Change defines us.
But for a moment, when we put our pen to the page, or, as is more applicable in this present age, press our fingers against the keyboard, we capture ourselves, anchoring our souls to a specific point in time – scary, exhilarating, fascinating.
- Christen Patterson, May 2007
