Writing at first went whoosh! with a sparkle and spin.
New words danced about, shouting, “Let’s begin.”
The keyboard felt enchanted. The page was new.
Oh, the joy of creating. Tra-la-la, la-la-loo.
Like faith when first found with a heart full of cheer,
You talk write, you walk write and you hold write quite dear.
Thrilled, you tell everyone. You glow and you gleam.
You’re a writer, you say. It’s a God-given dream.”
But then comes a morning that’s quiet and plain.
The sparkle feels sleepy. The old page is a strain.
The thrill’s not shouting. No, it barely whispers, “Hi.”
You wonder. “Did my passion just wave goodbye?”
“Oh, no,” the page said with a compassionate grin.
The honeymoon change is where the depth will begin—
Not lost, not forgotten, not packed up and gone,
Just asking for faith to keep on trudging along.
Our love for writing isn’t proven by fireworks bright.
Now it’s persevering through the gray-colored night.
As with walking, we write with God hand-in-hand,
Trusting each step toward our Promised Land.
Remember Peter who first walked, then sank.
His steps became unstable as his focus shrank.
When our eyes drift from Jesus to waves big and rude,
Down goes our courage. Up comes the “uh-oh” mood.
So look back with thanks at what God’s already done—
Each lesson, each sentence, each race that you’ve run.
Gratitude whispers, “He’s still with you. Yes, indeed,”
In drafts that are messy and moments when you plead.
The honeymoon doesn’t go Poof! in a puff,
It grows roots and muscles and deepens its stuff.
Show up. Say thank you. Keep writing. Stay near.
Your joy will come back richer as you persevere.
