With Empty Hands I Fill Pages

"Hold that thought!"

And there it sits. The hands are anxious and they shake. The thought new and exciting dances in circles waiting to be released. Something must be done! But it isn't. The hands grow tired, the mind distracted, and they both lose grip. The thought leaks through the cracks and evaporates half way to the ground. The thought is gone.

It's for two reasons that I reluctantly begin my first official blog:
1.) I can't lie awake at night thinking thoughts only to have them lost in my dreams. I must put them somewhere where they won't be forgotten (no matter how embarrassing that might be).
2.) if I'm going to put them somewhere shouldn't they be available to the public? If for no other reason than probability some thoughts are bound to be entertaining, insightful, or if I'm lucky, helpful.

But that said, I'm not a whole lot. I'm not a writer, even though I'm writing now. I'm not a teacher, though I often find myself teaching. I'm certainly not proficient with the English language, yet my tongue insists on slaughtering it daily. I'm not perfect, but I have a tendency to be a perfectionist. What I'm not is also what I am. I'm not you, but we're just the same.

My thoughts double as a time machine as they spend more time in the future than here in the present. I have visions and dreams of greatness and accomplishments of mediocrity. But that's all changing as I'm giving my thoughts, visions, and dreams cement and letting them pave the way.

I've found like-minded dreamers and together our thoughts are becoming tangible. Together we are building families, businesses, and communities. As God renews our minds our thoughts are capable of mapping out paths that lead to His perfect plan for us. And down this yellow brick road we find the Wonderful Wizard of Cause, establishing our purpose and inviting others to theirs.

So instead of holding my thoughts and letting them slip away, I pledge to use the very same hands that cradle them to carve them, one peck at a time, into my virtual wall. God tends to take my nothings and make them into somethings, so it's with empty hands I fill pages.