The blank page

Today’s blog is written in honor of my former editor at The Lake Wales News, The Winter Haven Sun, The Polk County Sun, and the Polk County Democrat, the late Jeff Roslow. He passed away recently and his funeral was held Monday. Sadness has overwhelmed my soul, and I could not bring myself to go to his funeral. Jeff would agree with my decision to do something else in his honor. I think of how he spent his days, how he poured himself into everyone he met. And the ink flowed. This script below is for you, Roslow. In musical tune you would sing “Little bits of” and add words accordingly. “Little bits of writing, wooo wooo.” The love of a friend knows no bounds. 

Every day is a blank page and every day, there is a pen.

person woman desk laptop
Photo by Breakingpic on

Or a sponge with paint on it.

Or a keyboard, perhaps, in our digital society.

Every day we have a chance to fill the page with ..


As I ponder today’s blog, it hits me that each of us wake to 24 hours of possibility.

One author wisely said, “By looking at some people, you can tell how they spend their time.”

My day, I think, is like anyone else’s day. We all travel this big blue marble in the sky, and tackle our day’s purpose.

Work, school, childcare, care for parents, homemaking, etc. We drive, walk, run, or roll to our goal every day.

The minute our feet hit the floor, it is as if the ink is already flowing. A stubbed toe. The coffeepot that did not turn on as expected. Messages and phone calls, notifications before 6 a.m. flood our phone.

Some exercise. One very fit pastor and his very fit wife arise before the sun to go work out at a local gym.

I have the same membership! I have not been to the gym in months!

Their well toned forms show evidence of where they spend a small portion of their time.

We drink our coffee. Brush our teeth. Comb our hair, dress and get ready for the day. Feed the fish. Feed the cats. Speaking of feed, Facebook populates with the morning muses.

The ink flows freely across the blank page.

Traffic. Rush hour. Bills to pay. People to see.

Or maybe your life is sedentary by necessity. Getting out of bed and having breakfast, the ink flows.

We speak. Our emotions or thoughts, or both, begin. Some complain. Some don’t. Some teach. Some don’t. Some speak positive things. Some don’t.

The ink flows.

Noontime comes. The day is half gone, we say.

What do we have to show for it?

Writers are often list makers.

It seems to me that most of us carry diaries or journals in some capacity.

Check, check and check.

A friend of mine carries what is known as a “Bullet” journal. Others call it a “dot journal.” The idea is you can connect the dots to create sections.

If you think about it, all of our moments are sections. Family, spiritual, work, retirement, chores, celebrations. And more.

She connects the dots in all sections of her life, and occasionally, gets so busy that some lists are not necessarily tended for a few days. On paper, that is.

Still, on the inevitable scroll of life, the ink flows.

My thought this morning is it is my goal that the pages of my life are filled with as much grace and beauty, kindness and productivity, creativity and flow, generosity and goodness as I can fit into each moment.

All of my moments matter. All of your moments matter.

The ink flows, whether out of intention or haphazardly as we allow the pen to rest in one spot.

Where will this day take us? How will we bless others? What good things can we do today? What moments can we spend thinking on kindness?

The ink forever flows.

May you have a fabulous day, on this page of your life.

P.S. At this moment, there are colored pencils on my shelf. And yet I prefer markers. As you know from last week, my markers had run dry. I must remedy this. Why is the purchase of markers so difficult for me?

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