Writers Write

I'm a writer.
Writers write.
Right?
Well, this morning, this writer had to take a walk to remember that.
I slept horribly last night.  However, I consider that a blessing, since I was in prayer most of the night.  I prayed about big decisions I have coming up.  I prayed about my future.  About employment.  About Lydia's cough.  I lifted up my lack of energy and how often I feel sick, and how I'm trusting God to light the fire under me to get me more active and healthy again.  I thought about my dad and losing him.  I told God how hard it is to not worry about my mom, and surrendered my concern about her over to God in prayer too. And I prayed about what honoring God looks like in my life.
I woke up still having no idea what any of that entails.  Even after a sleepless night.  So, I took a walk.  One of those beautiful morning walks where almost the entire world is still asleep.  It always amazes me how when you initially step out the world seems so sleepy and still, but as you walk you become more aware of how many animals, birds and people are already awake and making their mark on the day.  As I continued on, I prayed for my neighborhood, the houses I passed, and for the safety of the people who work at the prison near my home.  I listened to the crunchy sediment beneath my feet, left there by piles of snow that had melted from our recent warm spell.  I was startled by a squirrel hopping from creaky tree branches to a power line.  And, a group of crows (I'm sure there's a name for them) mocked me as I walked slowly down the hill, surveying my beautiful little town.  
And as I turned my last corner, I realized my entire walk I had been "writing" prayers to God.  I had been composing my experience in my mind.  I imagined how it would feel to put what I was experiencing down on paper (or screen).  And, in the dawn of a new morning, God reminded me to keep on writing.  It's how I make sense of my world.  
Because I'm a writer.  And writers need to write.