I’d have to travel back to a place in my mind where a little girl who lived in Georgia, believed that she could make a Mother’s Day card that would mean more to her mama than a store bought one. The excitement of folding a single piece of pink construction paper into the shape of a card was almost too much for her to bear. And when she glued on the decorative light blue apron, she could hardly catch her breath. Why? Because now that she’d completed her prep work, she could craft her message to the honoree; now she could create love with her words.
There were other times when events not nearly as pleasant as giving her mama a heartfelt atta-girl through words, had caused the now teenager to put pen to paper desperately unraveling the ties of anger, frustration and hopelessness.
Obviously, a pattern had started to form for the emerging adult, her family members, and friends. All had begun to marvel at the poetic paragraphs she’d brought to life. Her creativity seemed to sprout in a moment’s notice filling the space around her with emotions. Some understood her ability to write as a gift while some found it boring; others were simply jealous because they couldn’t put together a single line.
A young lady finally becomes the go-to person if anybody needed a letter, a jingle, or struggled with the best name for a business. At last, she could bring joy to other by doing what she’d been created to do!
As an adult responsible for her living expenses, the young lady found work in an industry that she cou
ld support herself in. Through several career changes, she never forgot her ability to brighten days with words and looked forward to the day when seeing into places that other could not become her main focus—day, after day, after day.
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