For well over a year now I've spent hours writing about people and places known only to me. Before they came to life on paper, they took up residence in my imagination. They whispered their names and told me their stories, and I wrote them down.
I thought I knew the story from beginning to end, but sometimes they surprised me. A sudden turn, a change in circumstance, and we were off in a new direction. There were even times someone showed up who wasn't part of the plan at all. They stepped into the story and simply wouldn't leave.
As the weeks rolled by these people, this place, became more than words on a page. They came to life and took up residence in my heart. I have come to love them (even the not so lovely ones) and, as silly as it sounds, to care deeply about what happens to them. With the caring comes a sense of responsibility - a wanting to do my very best for them - to see them through.
There was a time when we, you and I, were just a dream in the heart of a Father. He lovingly wrote a story for each one of us; He formed us and made us who we are. We are His in a way that only love can understand. In all the twists and turns and changing circumstances, He is there - caring deeply and working to see us through.
Blessings,
Linda
