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Better to do what he made you to do than wind up in heaven, looking down awkwardly and mumbling, "But all my art supplies were in storage."
I drove to the school, brimming with enthusiasm and the righteousness of my mission, got up behind the podium, looked into the faces of all those teenagers, and... I froze.
You spend weeks, months... years. A paragraph here, a chapter there. And then, all of a sudden, you have a story. It has a beginning, an end. It even has a middle.
Certainly, I could write one line for myself. Certainly, I felt the Holy Spirit whisper, it is time to start remembering, the good, the bad, and everything in between