As I read a friend’s blog about spirit travel, I heard “Where would you like to travel today?”  It took me a minute to make that choice because the options are overwhelming.

Quickly, I knew I wanted to see other writer’s works.  So immediately I went to the library of heaven.

I should share with you the fact that in any library I close my eyes and smell the fragrance that permeates the air.  It is heady and makes me want to embrace the stacks.  I did no less in this library.  Mmm, it was delicious!

Next I walked slowly along the aisles with my fingers lightly grazing the spines of each one.  It was impossible to walk quickly because each book produced a 3D-life movie that played before my eyes like a hologram.  Not only was the movie the story within the pages of the book, but it included the author’s heart and soul. The production was too much information to absorb in a moment, so if my fingers traveled onward too quickly, I was inundated with one movie playing on top another.

Every book was the product of someone trying to put into words, their experiences and revelations which came from Father.  Each heart was so moved by Father’s touch that it yearned to share, to immortalize the effect.  But the single common thread was the immense love conveyed through the words on the pages.

That love wafted from each book like smoke from a fireplace and melded with the love from the next and the next.  It filled the building.

I saw only two floors from the place where I stood, but I knew there were many, many more.  Every shelf was filled with books, written through eons of Father’s interaction with people and beings throughout the world and the universe.

Yes, the Bible was in there.  Amazingly it didn’t hold a prominence over any other book.  It was treasured, as they all were, and he said to me, “Every book here was inspired by me.”

I saw differences in theology and perception, intelligence and wisdom.  But he said that mattered little to him.  In his heart, these differences were the same as it would be if my daughter’s nose was too large, or my son’s chin was too small.  I would cherish those aspects as part of their uniqueness.  I would embrace them as beautiful. Which they are.

He highly values those differences chosen by each author to honor him.  Each word and line is carefully selected by someone who loves him dearly.  Each volume is about the effect his love had on them. That love produces a life of it’s own and they have no choice but to produce, or burst.  So they produce, gladly and with great passion.

The love wafting out of each book, fills the building and makes it a place where I could stand and absorb it without touching an individual story.  It is the constant he cherishes.

And it all lives inside his heart where He pulls it in with his great, huge arms, in one sweeping gesture.  Then he leans back into his throne and smiles in deepest contentment.

So, if you are drawn to write, then do so without hesitation.  I am convinced that your product will fit in nicely and last forever.