Nearly fifteen years ago, as God as my witness, I quit writing. I shut off my computer, scooped up my fussy baby, strapped him in the stroller and headed out the door. Along a quiet country road, Baby Nick, free from the confines of the office playpen, giggled and kicked his legs. A gentle spring breeze rustled through the grassy field. Chirping birds, wildflowers sprinkled along wooden fence posts, and a rabbit on our path affirmed there was more to life than a computer screen. Rejection letters numbering in the hundreds were reason enough to avow my one-sided love affair with writing.

On that road, I happily declared to The Almighty that I wasn’t wasting any more time writing unless (there’s always an unless) He wanted me to write and (there’s always an and) He gave me a clear sign why I should spend hours in a dark office, glued to the computer. My school aged children (Jake and Betsy) would see my face instead of my back. They’d get more hugs instead of uh-huh’s.

Relieved of my burden, I returned home to a blinking answering machine.  At the beep, an editor for Guideposts for Teens magazine said she wanted to publish my essay. I grabbed Baby Nick and twirled him in a happy dance, then lowered him into his playpen prison.  God responded. I was a writer with work to do.

That day, I dedicated my writing to God and took the kids out for celebratory ice cream. The next day, I got a check in the mail from a parenting magazine and a copy of my first published work. Doors to the published world began to open and I’ve been amazed at the writing opportunities that have come my way since.

I’d love to hear inspirational stories from other writers, sharing how you were affirmed that you were a writer.