Please bear with me today. My
heart is full. Actually, if I hadn't already used the title, "Don't Worry,
Be Happy," in my last post, I'd have used it today.
A little over an hour ago, I returned home from the funeral of a dear, dear friend, Anne Creager. She has been in my writing critique group for the past several years, and after regularly meeting with her (sometimes monthly, often weekly), we (Josi Kilpack, Jody Durfee, Becki Clayson, and I) got to know Anne in a way we will always cherish. True, we aren't members of her family or even her closest inner circle--perhaps--but I feel we got to know her on a deeper level than most people get to because we frequently read each other's work and unselfishly helped each other progress through the various feedback and experience we shared. There is something innately personal about putting words on paper. It is, in many ways, a reflection of who we are inside; it is the fruits of our thoughts. Because of this connection, we all knew Anne was beautiful both inside and out. I always marveled at her ability to describe settings in a way I not only saw but also felt it's beauty. Kind of like when I stand above a lush, mountain canyon turned red and gold from fall. The coolness in the air and the glories of nature seem to breathe beauty through me. That's how good Anne's writing was. That's how good Anne is.
A little over an hour ago, I returned home from the funeral of a dear, dear friend, Anne Creager. She has been in my writing critique group for the past several years, and after regularly meeting with her (sometimes monthly, often weekly), we (Josi Kilpack, Jody Durfee, Becki Clayson, and I) got to know Anne in a way we will always cherish. True, we aren't members of her family or even her closest inner circle--perhaps--but I feel we got to know her on a deeper level than most people get to because we frequently read each other's work and unselfishly helped each other progress through the various feedback and experience we shared. There is something innately personal about putting words on paper. It is, in many ways, a reflection of who we are inside; it is the fruits of our thoughts. Because of this connection, we all knew Anne was beautiful both inside and out. I always marveled at her ability to describe settings in a way I not only saw but also felt it's beauty. Kind of like when I stand above a lush, mountain canyon turned red and gold from fall. The coolness in the air and the glories of nature seem to breathe beauty through me. That's how good Anne's writing was. That's how good Anne is.
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