I’m a writer because I write.  I like to watch the little marks show up on the screen.  I am fascinated with ideas that show up as scribbles on paper.  That anyone can look at this tiny markings and translate them into concepts, arguments, philosophy or babble.

And I am a speaker, of sorts.  I like to talk and tell stories.  My dad told lots of stories and my mom was captivating in her less garrulous manner, packing a punch with few phrases.

So yesterday a woman came up to me and asked–did you work downtown 16 years ago?  Did you regularly go to this meeting there?  Yes, I said.

She started jumping up and down and squealed–it WAS you!  I knew it!  I smiled, but was puzzled.  What did I do now so long ago?

You changed my life!
What?!
You changed my life with your words.  You opened my eyes, gave me a splash of ice cold water on my tired numb world and saved my life with what you said.

She squealed again and tears came to our eyes.

I wasn’t completed sure it was me, but it sounded like me.  I was pretty sure of my feeble knowledge back then, but not afraid to show it off.

Changing someone’s life with my words.

They weren’t my words, of course.  They are Her words.

You see My Love, I am sharing Your words with the world.  Thank you for speaking through me.