Immediately, I understood. Juliette is just like me – a storyteller. And for us, stories build up and need to be told. And who better to hear them than me, the other writer in the family.
For as long as I can remember, I’ve processed all my experiences into stories. Even as a kid, as soon as events unfolded, my mind began crafting the retelling. And I wouldn’t be satisfied until I had the best story possible. It’s so ingrained in me I can’t not do it.
I believe God gives us all a creative gift. For Tim, it was woodworking. Many times I saw him stand in front of a piece of furniture and run his hand across the wood grain. He’d pull out drawers and study the craftsmanship. Crane his neck to see the sides and back. He couldn’t not do it.
I hear people say they’re not creative. Usually followed by, “I can’t draw.”
But creativity is in us all. And it isn’t limited to the arts. It’s what drives our need to put our individual touch on everything we do. Our desire to make it our own.
For some reason, I tend to resist the urge to write. I fight it like an approaching cold. Even though it gives me the greatest satisfaction. I love nothing more than tweaking a story so it ebbs and flows.
But I procrastinate. I let the stories build up inside me. Until like Juliette, I have to unload them.
For I’m created in Gods image. And He puts all his gifts on display. He smears the heavens with beauty, and the horizon in glory. And he begs us to stand back and marvel at His work. He delights in our awe and wonder.
So is it any surprise when someone says, “Oh, Ellen, that’s a good story,” I’m ecstatic? That I’m thrilled to reveal the gift God’s given me?