By JANET HART LEONARD
From the Hart
She had a voice. She prayed every morning before her feet found their way out from underneath the covers.
“Please Lord, let my words make a difference.”
She knew that people read her words and took them to heart.
She knew how they felt. Those who had the worst of the “what ifs” happen. Those whose midlife crisis was not of their choosing. Those who knew, all too well, that life was not always fair.
Many times, she had wondered if she should dare share her journey.
She had struggled. She had been made to feel less than. She had picked the last petal of a flower and it told her: He loves you … not.
She had heard that bets were made, bets that she would fail in a man’s world. She had to make sure she knew the rules. She had so much to learn.
She was nice and they began to teach her the game. Slowly the deck that was stacked against her began to lean in her favor. She was given a seat at the men’s table. She was even given the deck to shuffle. She would teach others the game.
She was the one who ended up winning the bet.
For years she was the fifth chair at dinner parties. She knew the loneliness of asking for a table for one, while sitting amongst a sea of couples.
She had looked into the face of fear and took a deep breath and told fear to get out of her way. She had a life to live and to live it abundantly.
Love came gently knocking. Would she take another chance? What if her heart was shattered … again? What if love could be found in this chapter? Did she dare take the risk? She did.
She knew what it meant to hear the gentle voices, encouraging her to not give up. Those voices were like a choir which would eventually sing the Hallelujah Chorus. Actually, she heard Pachelbel’s Canon in D Major as she walked down the aisle at her wedding.
She continued to write and share her thoughts and her heart with her community. She was always so surprised when people recognized her as that lady who wrote for the newspaper.
She kept the notes, tucked away, that people sent to her. They reminded her that she was making a difference when she took the dare to start sharing her thoughts in her writings.
She never wanted to be found judging others as she could never know the rest of their story. She knew how important it was to listen with her heart before voicing her opinion. She also knew that just because she had an opinion it did not mean she had to voice it.
She sifted her words with kindness. She knew that harsh words would never be heard like those uttered or written with kindness and gentleness. She knew all too well what harsh words sounded like and how they hurt.
She knew that the wrong words voiced, at the wrong time, in the wrong way, could do more harm than any weapon of mass destruction. The effects are long lasting. She has learned to be silent when she wanted so badly to speak.
One of the great truths is that you cannot erase a word once it is written. She knows what it feels like to read hurtful words. She has been the victim of them and has their scars engraved on her heart, scars that will never completely heal.
She wrote with passion. She felt the need to write. That need came from deep down in her soul.
Her journals told her story. The good. The bad. And yes, the ugly.
Would anyone ever want to read her thoughts as she put them together in a book? She doesn’t know, but … she begins to write it.
“Please Lord, let my words make a difference.”
This just might be in a chapter of the book I am writing … just saying.
Janet Hart Leonard can be contacted at janethartleonard@gmail.com or followed on Facebook or Instagram. Visit janethartleonard.com.