One of my ideas for retirement was to become a writer. There was no grand vision of being famous or even published. I simply imagined myself as a writer. So, once we had moved to Richmond and settled into our home, I enrolled in an on-line fiction writing class last fall through the VMFA. Most in the class had been writing together for years and several had even published books or plays. I was so out of my league and yet the group and my instructor were very encouraging.

Realizing at the end of the twelve-week class that memoir was maybe a better path, I switched this semester to the creative non-fiction class. Surprisingly what I have discovered is that writing about your life is harder than making up fictitious stories. Taking an honest look back on your life, reliving both happy and painful memories, and showing feelings makes you extremely vulnerable. To share what you’ve written with others is even scarier. So instead of writing about my life, I am reading memoirs others have written about their lives. I am reading a book on the art of memoir writing. I am reading another book on how to write great sentences. When I go walking with a friend, I talk about writing. I imagine myself writing. But I am not writing. (Well, except for these weekly messages and sermons.)

And yet here’s the thing. To be a writer one must write! The same is true for being a person of prayer: you must pray. To be physically fit, you must exercise. To be healthy, you must eat healthy food and drink lots of water. To be a person of faith, you must practice your faith. To be an activist for social justice and change, you must act. On and on this list could go but you get the point. What I’m hoping to do throughout this Eastertide is encourage you and me to just do the things we believe will bring us joy and make us whole.

Happy Easter Blessings,

Jenny+