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3 Lessons I Learned from My First “Book”
Childish notions worth remembering
Yesterday I visited my parents because they wanted to show me something.
“I found your first book when I was going through files downstairs. Want to see it?” Dad asked.
“Of course!” I replied, not knowing what I might see.
I had vague memories. Pencil was my writing instrument of choice. White paper, probably the childhood construction type, provided the canvas for my words.
Dad handed me 5 pages stapled together. The cover said, “The One and Only FM”, which was how I referred to myself as editor of this glorious publication I had made.
Inside were very small handwritten words, a drawing of a scene from a football game, local news commentary, and a few mock commercials on the final page. Got to have sponsors, right?
My mind drifted back to the fun I had putting this “book” together. This is what I did with my free time as a kid. This is the real me, unfiltered, sharing my God-given talents and indulging my chosen interests.
Right now, I’m between projects. As I try to figure out what to do with my life going forward, three lessons jumped out at me. Here they are.
