Now I Lay My Fingers on the Keyboard

When a writer chooses to write for passion's sake rather than for fun, the process takes on a seriousness that rivals striving for an SAT score that ensures a scholarship to Harvard. No longer will the writer toy with words. He must make them dance at his bidding. No longer will finding time to write occupy a small space at the bottom of a scribbled list of hopefuls. It will turn into a dogged pursuit with debris flying.

In my household, time to write doesn't grow on trees in my backyard, or in the lint piles in my laundry room, or near my dishwasher than needs unloading, or in my office, for that matter. Time to write is conquered territory won by sword and lance, spattered with the blood of the enemies of good writing.

As I lay my fingers to the keyboard, I'm gathering the spoils of war...because the battle wasn't finding the right words. It was finding time to record the right words.

So now, as I settle in with my fingers over the keys, I will pause to thank the Lord I made it that far. And I will pray:

Great God of all words, Great Savior of my sentences and my soul, by Your Grace I battled the elements and the opponents to sit here in the shadow You cast on my keyboard. May my words vibrate, alive because of You. May Your Name be lifted high as You stand on the pile they make.