Life Will Be Good
Expository writing from a 17 year old.
< note: For anyone that’s already read this and seen the messy laid out poem, after much trying, I realized it does not work at all on the Substack app on the phone. It only works when using the phone or computer on the web or using the app on a computer >
My first story here was on June 1st, 2022. My third was my first “Sunday Amen,” on June 12th. I had found my high school Jr. Composition book.
At 17 years old little did I know God, but I sure spoke to Him. Now I know life is better with Him. Not without. I don’t have to shoulder all the pain of the world, yet cast it out in deep conversations and prayer with Him.
I have discovered through early writing, a long break to raise a family and see the world through my lens, I am most definitely an empath. I kept a blog (remember those?) for many years as a way of pouring all the emotions absorbed from work out to my clients in love and gratitude.
The world is hard and beautiful with grief, joy, walking hand in hand times billions of unseen people. The empath can lie bleeding. Like matter floating upward may our emotions catch the wind to our Maker. If not, the weight is immeasurable.
So, today I revive my 17 year old self. My name is Debbie Gunn. try that one in school! It was April 7th 1978. 47 years ago when I wrote this piece. 1977’s, “Saturday Night Fever” was still a movie favorite, with the number one song, “Stayin’ Alive” fitting, blasting from my dad’s Mustang on the way to school. Somewhere in my writing is a piece called Chatty Patty - about a wild and short stint in the entertainment industry - which explains how I was feeling when I wrote this. In reflection, life has always been so much more. We are so much more than the surface of everything going on. And what do we make of everything going on below the surface? We gotta find the more to our life and stop worrying about the things we can’t control or they will control us.
“Why is the day so beautiful, and life feels so bad at times? I ask because I don’t know God. I wish I knew. When will the best day come, and everyone could feel so good about it. I hate negative thoughts and I hate hate. Worrying isn’t good either. I worry about the dumbest things really. That little butterfly on the lawn doesn’t seem to have a care in the world. I often wonder where my life will go. I bet that butterfly doesn’t. It just isn’t fair. I probably lost the part, because deep down I don’t think I was feeling too good about an acting career. Why did I get so upset. I never do over that sort of thing. Life has so many wants and so many, many needs. A crippled girl just went by and I know deep down she wants to walk like her friends. Life can be so beautiful and all of us who’ve got it, I don’t think are completely satisfied. Why is that?
Probably because half the time we don’t know what we could really make of it. Sometimes I get so depressed inside to the point that it’s pointless. What good am I doing? None, not one single stupid bit. I love life so much sometimes that it really hurts to see what it is made of. Some people are so destructive, others rude and insolent. And some people can never come off the surface. I mean really search inside of themselves. I wish more of us really knew who we are. I want to find out so badly that often the truth hurts, but helps.
You know, life is like one big game, a sport. People pushing, shoving, whining, crying, laughing, kicking, shouting and usually I think it’s pretty fun. But also, I often feel the wind blowing, the rain pounding and the sun beating on my face, and in this gigantic world I feel I’m standing alone. Whom do I have to depend on? me I guess, and only me. Life will be good.”
The poem below does not work in the actual Substack app. It works on a computer or “on the web on the phone” just fine.
At seventeen
the world was seen
I strolled along
in a writer's song
as plain as day
words convey'd
images spoke
truth awoke
with nothing to hold
creation unfold-
ed all that I knew
and butterflies flew
from my hands
no technological
astronomical
Argonaut man
of storybots
and plots
peering through screens
among universal queens
NO, this is my teens!
wide-eyed liquified
a perfect tide
moldable
combustible
deductible
oh God
hear my prayer
are you there?
I'm looking around
not starin' down
cause
this
play
ground,
this
blessed
wild
wood
of
be
coming
person
hood,
was
my
wide
eyed
child
hood...
1978 | Deborah T. Hewitt
Proverbs 3:5
Do you know how many people cannot write in script today?
It was interesting to see the world through the eyes of a 17-Year-old.
When I look at it, I cannot believe I joined the Navy at 17. It is frightening. I was writing letters. I wonder if I can find any of them.
So easy to see your gift in the writings of a little girl! You've had a magnificent way of communicating from the very beginning!