Take It All In

Editor’s note: Each month, the CCW blog features one of our members. This month, Cindy Wilson reflects on how everyday life can be an inspiration. Visit her online at www.cindyjeanwilson.com or www.facebook.com/CindyJeanWilsonAuthor.

By Cindy Wilson

I’m a writer.

Fascinating words fill my mind and linger on my tongue, long after conversations are over. I believe that “relationships should be nurtured, moments need to be savored, and the Creator’s colorful masterpieces—in the sky and dotted throughout the landscape—radiate beauty for our enjoyment.”

How can breathtaking scenes that fill me with delight, people who energize with delightful memories, and poignant moments be ignored as they float away in the wind without my writing the details down? Inspiration means nothing when it is disregarded.

As a child, intriguing scenarios captured my attention and begged for answers. Curiosity usually got the best of me! I often bent to watch a caterpillar climb a tree with its tiny body gripping the bark; noticed a mother pulling her child’s arm as the toddler arched back, face reddened, with his volume of cries increasing; or imagined the horrific end as a window washer slipped from his perch twenty floors up before grabbing a dangling cable. You’ve seen these things, too. Life is interesting.

My father made sure we appreciated the rewards from hard work. “Nothing feels better than accomplishing a task,” he said. If we didn’t have something to do, he found a chore needing attention. Many hobbies consumed my free time when he was busy: oil painting, playing the piano, ice skating, scuba diving, and reading wonderful books. You can’t have too many! My favorites were the dictionary and my Bible. I still read those regularly.

Talking to people also has been important—essential for extroverts—and every person I met was someone I wanted to be friends with, if possible. In rare moments of connection, I longed to go deeper and get closer. Dad’s job involved moving every year or two so new people and schools were commonplace. He shared his ministry in churches on weekends where my sisters and I quoted scripture and sang as part of the presentation. Interacting with strangers followed. Rarely did we spend the weekend at home. Summers involved living outdoors at camps where Dad directed the activities. I watched longing to be old enough to participate, occasionally helping staff members, always eager for evening campfires where singing, and talking about Jesus, followed by roasting marshmallows.

I never dreamed about becoming an author, although I’ve been known for storytelling skills most of my life. Telling exciting stories was something special I shared with my mother beginning on my first day of kindergarten. She couldn’t wait to hear the next one. My mom was an aspiring writer herself and penned 37 pages of her memoir during my adolescence, gleaning tidbits from my growing wealth of information about our ancestry. She finally asked me to help finish that priceless work-in-progress. After self-publishing my first two novels, Here’s An Apple, Sweet Adam and A Time To Celebrate, I’m completing the inspirational story of Fina’s Dötter based on my mama’s memoir, and eager to share the legacy of a sad orphan who was adopted by the heavenly Father and given a life of hope.