There is something about writing that is so freeing. It is a way to express yourself through the power and wonder of words. Watching ink flow onto paper, with your hand trying to keep up with the outpour of ideas, is such a sight to behold.
I love buying pens and collecting notebooks, imagining the journals that they will become. The pages await to be filled, filled with dreams and thoughts and devotionals and stories and accounts of our days. Marked with song lyrics, quotes, and Bible verses, my writings are my own.
To know that somewhere, someone can't read and write breaks my heart. Where would I be without books and blogs? Without letters and journals? I can't imagine a world like that.
Yet I've seen those worlds. Places where children, sometimes adults even, can't spell their names. They might have a Bible, but it is of no use to them because they can't read it. Many, many people have to rely on word of mouth to hear news. Stories are passed down through generations.
This is a blessing that I take advantage of daily. I grew up in a country that is blessed to give education and recieve education. A country that teaches children to read and write. A country that has the technology to keep the East coast connected to the West coast, to connect one side of the world to the other. A country that has recorded history in words and in movies.
Since I have been blessed with these gifts, I choose to read and I choose to write. I read to learn. I read to explore. I read to be transported to a different time and place. I read to gain experience. Someday, someone will be reading what you read. I write to record who I was, when I was here, what I did. I write to make sense of myself. I write to find clarity. I write for myself, and I write for others. Someday, someone will be reading what you wrote. Life keeps marching on and my pen shall race to keep up.