A TAPESTRY OF WORDS by BJ Reese (A Gathering Place Person)
My journey as a writer began early in my childhood, when I first learned about words. It was almost like discovering some magical secret: these sounds I'd been making since I'd learned to talk could) be constructed! They weren't simply noises to make or hear they were formed from these wonderful tools called letters. And when you arranged those letters in the right order, they made a tangible image of this word you knew.
Cat. I no longer needed to find a neighborhood feline in order to provide an image to go with the word. I didn't have to wish I could draw a picture that Mama would recognize as a cat. I could make a word picture: c-a-t. Three of those alphabet letters I'd learned. The word represented the neighborhood feline. If I wrote that word, mama knew I was talking about THAT creature. Magical!
Soon, we were putting those words together into sentences. As we did, we learned MORE magic. The teacher called it punctuation. She said it was like traffic signals for our sentences. Use them correctly, and people could READ the sentences you'd written in the way you'd THOUGHT them! Wow!
To me, this was beyond magic. It was absolutely amazing. And the wonder continued. By 4th grade, I'd become fascinated with short poems - like the ones in greeting cards. Money was tight in our house, but I longed to give my Mom beautiful cards like the ones in the stores. Through the magic of words - and the simple drawings I made - I could MAKE cards! All I needed was some construction paper and my crayons. I know my mother cherished them, because now - 50 years later - some of them are still lovingly tucked away in her trunk.
By junior high school, we were learning to write short stories and essays. What fun! Now, instead of reading a story in a book, I could create one of my own - simply by putting the right words together in the right order. By the time I started high school, poetry had become my favorite way to express myself in writing. I'd come to realize I wasn't very good at short stories. Mine always seemed to be lacking something. But poetry, to me, was the purest form of word magic there was. With only a few words, you could express even complicated thoughts and evoke intricate images. I also loved the essays we had to write for English class. In the space of a few pages, I was allowed a forum to express my opinion on some topic. And the teacher wanted to READ that opinion. Not only that, he would give me a grade based on how I'd expressed it! What wondrous tools these words were!
Despite my passion for writing, I faced a time when the magic of words failed me. During my twenties, a journey into the dark, terrifying world of abuse and alcoholism had a profound effect on my writing. My mind went numb, and my pen fell silent. In place of the wondrous words were sorrow and fear. It made me feel empty - and dead inside. When I finally escaped that abusive first marriage, the words returned with renewed passion. There were days when poetry flowed from my soul like water from a flood-swollen stream. I couldn't write fast enough to keep up with them.
By that time, journaling had joined poetry as a format I was comfortable with. The direction of my writing was gradually changing. With the encouragement and support of a wise friend, I was about to venture into new territory: the autobiographical novel. When I protested that I couldn't because I was a poet, she said, "Sure you can! You have your journals, and you were there! You know what happened. Tell the story." From then on, my writing has branched out in many directions - some of them unexpected. Through it all, the wonder and amazement at what can be done with words has stayed with me.
In 1999, I was given a marvelous gift. God placed a clear understanding on my heart of what my calling in life was. "You are a writer. Write!" were the exact words He placed there. A year later, when I was whining to a friend about not finding a market for my book, another seed was planted. Gently, my friend said, "God didn't tell you to sell them. He told you to write them." After that, I chose to leave it up to God what would happen to the things I wrote. Their destiny was in His hands.
Since then, I've written books, press releases, newsletter articles, and business letters - many of which were for other people. Events of the past year led me to write down stories about little things that happened in the midst of chaos and sorrow. Eventually, those stories were used by the Hospice staff who had cared for my late brother: they wanted them for volunteer training.
Recently, the seed planted 11 years ago bore new fruit: an enhanced understanding of the calling I'd been given. A revelation, if you will. Writing is my ministry. It is how God has asked me to serve Him. What joy and peace that knowledge has brought me!
All my life, I've been fascinated by the magical world of words. For me, they've always painted pictures. They weave themselves into these amazingly intricate, beautiful tapestries of life. Today, I stand in absolute awe that the thing I've always loved the most could be used by God to serve His Purpose. I am at a total loss for words to describe how that feels, or the image it has created in my mind's eye.
