plastic words

i sit here in my fuzzy white bathrobe wondering how many people are hurting beyond my door?

wondering, how am i really helping by tapping out words on this box of keys?

i live in a speck of a village. even so, when i step outside my door, and wander frozen paths to the local store, i am too shy to look up at passing cars. too shy to wave. as if i might bridge some unseen gap and suddenly become engaged with humanity.

yes. it’s much easier to sit here, disengaged, and tippity-tap on these plastic keys.

yet, at the end of the day, that’s all they are: words. frail, flimsy, wobbly in the wind.

and people are still hurting.


1 Comment

  1. Teneale said,

    March 13, 2009 at 3:32 pm

    First of all, your words are not just words. If that were true, there would be no sense in talking. You will never know the impact your have had on people with your writing. You will never know how many people you “save”.
    Secondly, it really isn’t our job to “save” anyone. We just need to do what God’s will his, and He will save people through us. And I believe God gave you the incredible gift of writing and you are using that as best you can.
    So yah, you are doing good work hon. And don’t talk yourself out of it! Hugs.

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