My writing student came in to work today as a volunteer. Between the two of us, we managed to accomplish all but one task I wanted completed before the end of the year.

She is such an absolute pleasure with whom to work. She picked up the work on the press archive that she had done last August without missing a beat. She remembered where everything was located on the server, how to scan, format, PDF, enter, and hyperlink items on the archive and finished the last 14 historical items.

I pratically sighed with contentment all day, moving from one task to another and having someone to help. I even finished my status report on the past two weeks and sent it off (I usually do this Sunday evenings). My only lingering thought is that one last task. I am tempted to log on to the server some time this long weekend and try to tackle it.

But this is not even the best part of my day. The best part was that she came home with me and we wrote for several hours. I finally tackled the sermon I had been avoiding in my novel. I wanted it to be important to the story, not just popped in for a Christian effect. I think, perhaps, I outdid myself. Even if no one else gets what I was working toward, it is exactly what I wanted to say.

Over the past five years, my writing student has greatly matured her rather significant talent. I have enjoyed being a part of that, watching her, guiding her. The humbling part is that she will eventually eclipse what I can achieve as a writer.