My Breathing Place
My earliest memory of words…
Sitting in an arm chair pulled up by the fire snuggled up against my mother while she was reading me a bible story. Back in the day salesmen would come to your house selling all kinds of stuff. My mom had bought a Bible set, it was one HUGE bible (every house had one of those bibles on display). Along with the bible came two smaller books filled with bible stories. I was the only one out of five kids that cared anything about those stories. They were so interesting to me. My mom would pull up the big arm chair close to the fire and I would nestle in beside her. It was like I was off in another world. It was warm and cozy and it was just me and my mom.
It felt like eating strawberry preserves on hot pancakes to me…Yummy!
I have loved words and reading ever since. Words are my life’s blood. Words are breath to my spirit. Words cascading over my tongue, like breathing air into my being. When I write it’s like the air supply valve has been opened and my mind comes to life in a different realm where I can see past physical restrictions as I allow my mind to take me where my inner spirit wants to lead.
I truly believe my passion for “All Things Words” will lead me to my PURPOSE.
The puzzle pieces have begun presenting themselves and I realize that the more I seek, the more pieces I find. Also when I don’t feed my passion (my air supply), I don’t find puzzle pieces and my way becomes foggy. But the good thing is that PASSION doesn’t move or go away. I can go right back and pick up where I left off and start breathing and finding puzzle pieces again.