I work at a university, and we’ve just had a test of our emergency alert system. Perhaps this should be a post about gun violence, mass killings, terror . . . but it’s not. It’s just me, writing a post about writing a post.
This is only a test. (Or perhaps the ravings of a mad writer. You decide.)
I know, I started this blog with the promise of regularly appearing words. I won’t make more promises, but I can tell you that I’ve been testing the waters of wordsmithery once again. I’ve just submitted my first actual piece in many months to my editor over at Revive Our Hearts.
Writing again was strange. Not writing has been stranger. The piece I just submitted was one I put off writing for at least a month. I felt paralyzed, you know? It was a story I had to tell, but not one I ever would have chosen. Who wants to write about a terminally ill child for Christmas?
Thankfully, the piece (I hope) is less about a terminally ill child and more about the only Truth that will get her friends and family through these days of darkness. One way or another, the post will appear in this space in due time, but for now, with no pomp and circumstance, you’re stuck with this lackluster post about writing a post.
This is only a test.
I’ll leave you with a limerick, because, why not?
In Silence Cell I’d lost my pen,
Now alas! I’ve found Home Keys again.
Writing’s joy is brought back,
Though cheery mirth hard Truth lacks,
Words in hand, Christ is King. Amen.
Grace and peace, friends.