Last year, I graduated from high school. I had been counting down the days, marking off my last homecoming, my last musical performance, my last speech contest, my last choir concert, my last prom and -- finally -- my last day of high school. I was very involved in high school, and I continued that involvement into my freshman year of college, joining several clubs and picking up four jobs in my first semester. I was busy, I was involved and I was happy. Most of my friends would describe me as outgoing, and while I agree, I didn't always use to be this way. In fact, it took several years for me to become confident enough to actually put myself out there. When I was in fifth grade, I was what I would consider an awkward, nerdy girl who always had her nose stuck in a book or scribbling a story idea into a notebook. I only wanted to talk about the books I was reading and at night, before bed, I would act out the scenes I had written in my notebook during the day. I specifically remember a large blue binder with loose leaf notebook paper inside. I carried it everywhere.
One day on the bus after school, this blue binder clasped in my hands, some boys thought it would be a funny idea to take my binder from me. They wanted to see what I had been writing and meant no harm, but I was mortified. I fought them back, refusing to let go of this binder. I fought so hard that the binder broke and paper scattered all over the bus floor. Long story short, the boys helped me pick up all the papers, apologizing and I sat alone for the rest of the bus ride, frantically trying to put my story back into order and wishing that I had never started writing the stupid story. I wished I had been clutching a calculator or a magnifying glass instead. Then maybe I wouldn't have been so embarrassed. I hated that I enjoyed writing. The next day, my teacher approached me and asked if he could see my binder. I handed it to him, all bent with papers falling out. He nodded as he flipped through the pages. Finally, he looked at me and said, "Delanie, I think you should join our ELP program. You could write stories like this for an hour each day. What do you think?" Of course, I agreed and thus began my adventure. The Extended Learning Program was a way for students who excelled in math, science, or English to get some extra time to be challenged outside of the classroom. It became my safe haven.
Fast forward two years to middle school. I had been in ELP since that fateful day on the bus, and since then I had attended several writing conferences at nearby colleges, and was always having my English teachers give my writing extra scrutiny. I enjoyed being challenged this way, and I knew that I was becoming an even better writer with every stroke of the pencil. However, I was still very selective about who could read my stories. I was confident, but not confident enough. I still, at times, wished that I was good at something other than writing. I had my doubts, and plenty of them. At times, I wished and fiercely prayed that God would give me some different talent. But then, Christ intervened.
My seventh grade ELP project was to be a year-round project. I could do whatever I wanted to do, and naturally, like all students do with such a stretched out the project, I forgot about it. It wasn't until several months into the school year that I got a wake-up call. I was walking home from my grandparent's house on a trail that connected my backyard to their front yard. I started seeing a scene play out in my mind like I was watching a movie, but it wasn't a movie I had ever seen before. I was seeing my own thoughts play out in my mind and my fingers started itching for a keyboard. I ran home and started pounding out my thoughts, the words just sliding right out of my fingertips and onto the screen. I didn't ever want to stop. I realized in that moment that this was my passion; my God-given gift and talent.
Every day for about 40 minutes, I would go to the ELP room and type a story on a computer while other ELP students around me worked on their projects. Upon returning home from school, I would rush to the laptop, plug in my flash drive and write until I was pulled away from the screen for dinner. By the time I had exhausted my mind with words and possible scenarios, the story was complete and I still had several months left of school. My ELP teacher told me that I had to find something to do during the remaining months. With my parents' help, I then pursued a self-publishing company. I needed something to do to fill up the remaining months. My skepticism kicked in. What if everyone hated my words? What if my story wasn't good enough? What if...what if...But it turned out my worrying was in vain. My story was accepted by five publishing companies. At the age of 13, I self-published a book.
What started out as something that made me want to stop writing forever actually ended up being in my favor. Even though I tried to ignore my passion, God kept bringing it into my life. I simply couldn't avoid it. In January of 2013, I entered a contest with my church with an article about my position on the pro-life controversy. Despite all of the submissions, I was one of two who won an all expense paid trip to Washington D.C. to participate in the March for Life. My writing has given me opportunities I could never have imagined had I let my fifth-grade self-influence how I felt about my passion. Without writing, I wouldn't have been able to attend Central College. I received several scholarships because of my talent. I've received rewards, I published a book, and I even landed this awesome gig writing articles for The Odyssey!
I will admit, sometimes I still fall back into that mentality. "If only I was better at math or science instead of writing. My life would be so much easier and my GPA would probably be better, too." Every time I have this thought, I have to remind myself of James 1:17 that says "all good giving and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights". To know that every gift given to us has been given to us by God for a purpose only we can carry out is so...perfect. Nobody else could do what I am capable of with my particular talent. It's not our job to decide what gifts we do have and don't have. God has already given them to us. He knew what gifts and talents we would have before we were even born. God gave me my passion and talent for writing because it was the perfect one for me. I can't argue with that.
