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When I lived with my parents there was a household term that we shared one with the other: “Be A Blessing”. We would tell each other that when one of us would be in a situation that could make a difference for another. It could be anything from sharing coffee with a troubled friend to a performance at school. To this day my mother will still tell this to me when she knows I will be playing the piano at a nursing home or spending time with those that need a shoulder or a smile.

For about 20 years I led worship within any of the 3 churches I attended and I enjoyed it immensely. Being able to use both my musical and communicative skills to bring light and share love with the group in attendance. Looking back at it, during that time I was allowed many liberties in the readings, songs and directional thoughts to lead the congregation into the topic or theme for that days worship. Through the years many people stopped me after to thank me for what was shared, how it touched them or what it meant to them.

Those that write know the act of conveying a thought or moment or reality becomes as sustaining as oxygen. Times when the words run dry equally leave the spirit parched. Yes it is true that for some writing is the result ofli researching a topic as preparation to the storyline. For others, a means to share profound truth, break-through knowledge or perhaps just to impress. Others, like myself, see it as a means of therapy or healing and to confront what is inside head-on and wrestle with any doubt or disturbance until you fully tame the idea into peaceful acceptance.

I know that the tone of my blogging has severely taken a turn in direction from whence it first began. I was encouraged to use my imagination in fiction, so I tried it on for size. I’ve always enjoyed the poetic rhythm of a poem with a strong heart-beat. Some who know me might think I’ve ‘changed’ or I’m turning into a different person by now sharing my personal opinions. Rather, for once I’m not the quite girl, standing shy in the corner afraid to be heard. I am the same person today as I was yesterday or last year; but of late I’ve found the lyrics to the melody my soul has longed to sing for quite some time.

The years my heart was black with depression I sought no laughter, no friendship, no music and no creativity. I observe and listen to the world around me; people whose enthusiasm for life has been squashed and who feel like they live in that grey world I once emerged from. There are individuals, women, young ladies or simply just the lonely or misunderstood, who have been told or inferred that their words, thoughts and existence don’t matter. That you should be seen and not heard, or heard but truly not seen. That something or someone will always tripe your opinion, so don’t even bother sharing it, because no one is listening…. but the truth is… people DO listen.

I was thinking the other day about how I used to have recurring dreams that I would be in trouble or in danger. Whatever it was, would lead me to need to scream for help. But when I open my mouth and force my vocal chords and muscles to push the horror from my toes and out…. nothing was heard! Nothing came out. Time and time again I would stable my footing and force a loud monstrous sound.. to produce… silence. Nothing. It’s a very crippling and helpless feeling to want to share such a strong emotion and never be heard.

So now I see my platform: HOPE for those than cannot find their voice.

I have once again and most recently been approached by a few friends complementing me for being so open and honest in my writing and assuring me that I am not alone. That they have been there at one time or other and nearly shoving me towards the next blog; to this blog and to many more in which I will work out my own insecurities and self-worth. While at the same time being a mediator and ventriloquist for those of you that find it difficult to take that first step, find that joy or summon up the volume to SCREAM HARD and LONG and LOUD!

This time it is not my parents sending me forth with the “Be a Blessing” motto… it is YOU. It is the unspoken population that I hope to one day share days of freedom alongside. For I will not just be writing for myself, but for the singular soul whose voice I hear in the darkness.

 

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