I’ve decided, come hell or high water, I’m going to start writing here every day. I’m not sure what that’ll look like some days – procrastination is a real thing, at least for this writer. I figure I’ll start today by writing about writing. After all, that’s what I know.

Jerry Jenkins says the term “writer’s block” is a myth. I got mad the first time I read that. Then I read the rest of the piece where he explains what “writer’s block” really is: fear, procrastination, perfectionism, and distraction.

Well, then.

He got me.

Had to quit using that excuse.

So, for a long time, I bailed. I just quit.

I wrote for work, because that’s what I do for a living…but I quit all personal writing. And…well…I may as well have cut off one of my limbs.

Most writers write to figure out what they think. I do. I recently heard Sean Dietrich talk about the commitment he made long ago to write every day, regardless how nonsensical it turns out to be. So, I decided I’m going to follow his example. One of the greatest periods of growth I’ve experienced as a writer happened years ago when I started blogging, so I know he’s onto something. (besides the fact that he’s got an incredible daily column and boatloads of readers)

Two days ago, I made the decision to begin writing here every day. My husband and I had just finished walking our dogs on the Swamp Rabbit Trail – a 22-mile trail that stretches from Greenville to Traveler’s Rest, SC. (more on that another day) We didn’t go 22 miles…in fact, we barely made it a mile before dark, so we decided to call it a night, order [gf] pizza, and head home.

As I sat in the truck waiting for John to pick up the [gf] pizza, I started trying to figure out what I would write about that night. I prayed out loud, asking the Lord to give me something.

Anything, Lord. Just help me see.

Our truck was facing the trail. I’d left my phone at home on purpose (something I highly recommend you try once in a while), so I just sat there quietly, listening to the silence, and my panting dogs.

A few minutes later, as I watched the now empty trail, an elderly man appeared on his bicycle pulling a trailer on which his crippled dog was strapped. That dog looked like he was having the time of his life.

I melted.

Of all the things I thought I might see that night, a crippled dog being pulled by his elderly owner was not on my radar. But boy, was it powerful.

John came out a few minutes later, we headed home, and like most evenings, I got distracted, and forgot all about the writing.

But that man pulling his dog keeps popping into my memory, so here I am.

I don’t know if God meant for me to see it this way or if it really was just a guy on a bike giving his dog a joy ride, but I can’t help but think about how inadequate we often feel about our ability to do the things He’s called us to. I think He absolutely did mean for me to see the old guy and his dog to remind me…

He’s got it handled.

I just need to hang on tight and enjoy the ride.