I never, ever would have thought of myself as a writer. I had, and still have, I suppose, a learning disability which put me in remedial or “slow” classes when I was in middle school until my Junior year of high school. I am a painfully slow reader if I want to really comprehend the material.
When our second son was born, our oldest was only seventeen months old. To say I was busy was quite the understatement. There was no time for reading books or watching a chick flick. My hands were always moving, feeding babies, cleaning messes and such.
One evening, after the boys were asleep–our second son was only five months old at that point–I slipped downstairs to the basement to do some much needed ironing. Trudging away at the chore, I wished so very much that I could read a book or watch a love story. And then it occurred to me. I could…think up a story of my own.
Tentatively, the story took shape over the next few months. As I scrubbed the bathroom, cooked, washed dishes, tended to endless mounds of laundry…and the ever present ironing, though my hands were busy…so was my mind…with stories.
Over the next four years and the birth of our third son, I developed five stories in great detail, some contemporary and some historical. I thought, “Would someone else find them interesting?” I doubted it. But that Thanksgiving weekend, I had a little time to chat with my mother and I told her about my stories. I said, “I was thinking of writing them down and see if I could get them published.”
Mama’s face lit up, like only a proud mother’s could, and she said, “Becky, I think that is a great idea. You always had such a great imagination when you were growing up and I think you will be really good at that.”
I was so thankful for those words and that brilliant smile of hers and have carried them with me for twenty years now. You see, she died two weeks later from a brain aneurysm.
God was so faithful to let me have her for thirty-three years of my life and have such a wonderful example of how to bring “Joy” to others. That was her name and she was the epitome of it. I’ve strived to be half the the woman she was and having those words of encouragement from her hidden away in my heart has been a true blessing from God. That young girl who had such a hard time learning in school has realized that with God’s help, all things are possible (Matthew 19:26). Especially writing a story that entertains, but mostly will give praise to Him.