A few years ago I would not have been considered a writer; many things but not a writer.  In fact as a child in school I had become recognized as someone who never completed written assignments.  I tried but somehow the thoughts in my head fell to the pages in garbled disarray and sheets of paper with my unsuccessfully written sentences lay crumpled all around me.   This incapacity to arrange my thoughts first became apparent to me when I was about seven years old, and to the day of my un-graduation I never did complete any written work. 

It wasn’t until I had been out of high school for a couple years that I started to challenge myself to move through this hated mental block.  I advanced far enough to complete a few resumes and reports, where spelling and grammatical errors weren’t an issue.  I then put my issues to the back of my mind.

The turn around for me finally came when I showed an important person in my life a series of favorite books of mine, “Grooks” by Peit Hien.  My friend took a quick look and said if she had the money and time of the author she could have done just as well.

I had a revelation.  I realized that it would only take a small amount of time given daily to start building a momentum of change.

It still took me years to create the mental momentum to overcome the inertia I had established.   I had to find a need beyond myself that was greater than my fear and worry.  It eventually happened; one of my congregation moved away to a piece of northern Canadian isolation and wanted something to keep her inspired.  I swallowed my fear and started a weekly writing to uplift, inspire and refresh her.  Over time, complicated by  computer problems and many other learning curves, I have come up with something that is appreciated.  I get regular thanks from many people now on a list that easily reaches over a couple hundred people daily.  I am writing regularly for three different publications and there is no doubt that as long as I continue to move through my own inertia this thing that was started by a small commitment of daily time will yet grow into something I am hardly able to imagine.

I have recounted this story of the growth of Lightmail because in this adventure I learned some things I believe are worth sharing.

Most importantly I believe I may have truly learned the evils of worry.  I describe worry as fear hidden in the wrappings of sensibility.  There may be nothing more singularly detrimental to the aspirations of humanity than worry.  It eats at the soul and silently steals away the passion.  It drives a person into the cage of mediocrity and beats him into submission to repetition.  It is a pattern of thought; and only that, which constantly pushes away the very things we most desire.