I write evey morning. I write every day. Occasionally I write at night when my husband or my kids really have me down and I need to vent.

I don’t ever need a topic. My life is my topic. But sometimes I challenge myself.

One morning I wrote in my journal, “No matter what is on the front page of the New York Times, I will write about it.” It was early January 2009, the day the GE stocks hit an all-time low. Turns out, my husband has a lot of GE stocks. That essay was easy, “Stocks Slide; I Shrug.” I wrote about how I could care less that my family stock portfolio tanked. I had it, I lost it, more coffee please.

Today I wanted to write this topic because of someone else’s blog, “Why I Write; A Reflection.” That seemed like a good topic. I copy other people’s good topics.

I’m also writing to complete my self-imposed 30 days/30 blogs challenge. I was going to write about sports, about my sudden interest in running, which I’ve taken up a week ago. Can I do it all? Write, run, parent, have a social life?

This worries me. That I will have to pass up social invitations, because I have to write (or run).

When I begin an esssay, I never know how it will end. I often can think of a good opening line. But I am always taken by surprise at my closing lines.

But here’s the real truth, I write because I believe something spiritual happens.

The surprise ending is often God peeking through the cracks. For work, I have written for years for a national church group. I try to be journalistic, objective, factual. Suddenly, I’m on sabbatical for a few months. Yet my writing is still to support my faith; my searching for God. My asking for guidance.

Through writing, I find it.