One last post before the day ends.

I have forgotten how therapeutic writing could be. It’s become an addiction– only this time, it is good.

My Theology teacher asked us to make a reflection paper on a love story that is untold and me being me, because I’ve never truly had a romance brimming, or a kind of love they write stories about, I wrote about the only lover I know: God. I believe He fit the picture too because love requires staying strong and  being patient with that person and accepting all of the flaws that come with her, a choice and an effort that doesn’t come easy like most lovers think. Love is what settles when the unlovable sets in– when you begin to see imperfections and habits that annoy you out of your mind and make you want to bang your head into the wall, yet you stay anyway because she is the one person you know you can love all your life. Love is forgiving and who is a better forgiver than God? The best kind of love forgives because it knows she cannot be perfect, it allows the freedom to make mistakes and choices that allow her to grow up because your lover will always want what is best for you– not for him. Because of Sir Rochester, I have come to realize that love isn’t that fairytale I have always believed in as little girl where my Prince Charming comes all decent and good and sweeps me off my feet. All my life I was told, “wait for that boy that is meant for you. Do not settle. Allow God to write your love story.” Funny thing is, I think God is writing my love story already, even without the romance. His unfailing love for me and my unstable love for Him is a love story in itself. He really is the perfect lover. So I wrote about God and it was ten pages long. See, when I do something, I do it well and this one was no exception. I wrote the longest reflection paper among everybody else and I felt ashamed. (I often feel ashamed though so it’s okay). But the thing I realized is, every time I write about something completely honest and send it in to a teacher, teachers often write soulful comments on it, really soak what I write in and give high grades. But it’s not the grade I am after. I guess after all this time, when I write something to be read, I’m really letting somebody look into me and see a part of me they cannot see anywhere else. I am a beautiful person with beautiful thoughts and all of this can only be revealed by my writing. So I wrote. And this is what my Theology teacher replied:

I don’t want to add anything more to this beautiful, so beautiful reflection. I am deeply moved, deeply touched by God because of these wonderful thoughts. It’s a spiritual masterpiece. Someday these letters will mean so much to a Church in need of beautiful witnesses. Thanks so much for flaming a blessing in my life. This reflection is so long, at first I thought I might get tired reading it somewhere along the way. But I was mistaken, I was truly blessed, inspired.

– Roch

Every time I write, my teachers react. And I don’t mean this in a sense of power but I realized that this is what I want to do for the rest of my life: inspire people through my writing. When I write, I make sense of my experiences and it helps enlighten me. But today I realized that what I discover could enlighten other people as well. I want to do this; I want to blow people away. I am a timorous girl when I speak and act but when I write, I want to be a whirlwind. In fact, not only when I write but everywhere else. I want to be the best me I can be. I want to speak well. Study well. Think well. Act well. I want to surprise everybody. I want to be a storm. I’m going to break through. Get ready.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s