Maybe I should have written this months ago. I realize I’m not doing things in the correct order here. Probably a foreign concept to most of you but one that I am familiar with. Anyway, I realize that there may be some that come upon this site and don’t know me from Adam. So, this is my way of saying hello and hopefully it will also help to give some context to the things I write about.
My name is David Smith. And, no, that is not an alias or pen name. That’s the one on my birth certificate. It’s my claim to popularity. At the time of this writing, David is the 5th most common name in the world (3.5 million individuals). Smith is the most popular last name (2.5 million individuals). Put the 2 together, and I suppose there are a few thousand people that share my name.
I am middle aged. That is all you need to know about that as I have been and will continue to be in that stage for quite some time yet.
I am married. My wife is older than me. Not by much, but still… That can be an asset or a liability depending on the situation.
We have 4 children. 3 boys, 1 girl. The first one was born in 2004 and the last one in 2017. You can do the math from there to get whatever result you are looking for. And, no, they are not all equally spaced apart in years.
We live in Colorado. Our 6.4 acres lies about 20 ft. from interstate 49 in the south-central part of the state. The state doesn’t officially recognize the aforementioned road as an Interstate, but it has a similar amount of traffic and people drive just as fast, so I say what’s the difference.
I grew up in Kansas. Southwestern part. On a family farm, raising corn, wheat, and for a time, pigs. I’m a rural, plains raised boy. That is where I feel at home. My wife was raised in remarkably similar circumstances. I could see her folk’s farmstead from ours. I know because I often looked in that direction. Falling in love with a local girl has some distinct advantages. And while our relationship started with traffic going in one direction, eventually the road broadened to accommodate feelings flowing mutually. Our “how we met” story includes a small miracle. At least that is how I see it. It gives me reason to believe that there was a Higher Power interested in our situation. We’ll be celebrating our 21st anniversary in a few days.
I’m a carpenter by trade. Trying to continue in the steps of my grandpa. Some of you know him as Papa Bob. I also draft house plans, and while I am not attempting to advertise on this platform, I will say that the internet makes working together across any distance very simple. And it is very helpful to know what your project will look like before you begin. You can reach me at the email below…
We keep a few animals on this acreage. Chickens, not sure how many. They roam around the yard and teach us to watch our step. A dog. His main purpose is to teach me patience. Two cats. Their job is to look cute and give us allergies. Six sheep. One of them is black. And he is everyone’s favorite. I can relate to him. I think there is a lesson or two waiting for me as I observe him. Maybe someday I can share one with you.
I haven’t been writing for long. This writing thing has taken me by surprised. I don’t really consider myself to be a writer. And I am not offended if any of you share that opinion. But for whatever reason, I feel like I can express my feelings better here than anywhere else. And, maybe, at the end of the day, that is what we are all looking for. Someone that we can relate to. Someone that isn’t a fake. A person that is open enough for you to discover their humanness. Honest with themselves and with others. That is a goal I strive for. And I hope you do too.
Up until the first of this year (2022) I did very little writing. The writing I did didn’t have a lot of heart in it. It appears that my father’s illness was the catalyst to change that. My dad battled cancer for about 14 years. Several different kinds in fact. Cancer is relentless, and eventually it conspired against him in a way that doctors couldn’t effectively challenge. The experience of accepting defeat, of coming to terms with not fighting, of going from fighting to waiting, broke something loose in me. I wrote some of my feelings down and shared them on CaringBridge. Some gracious folks responded positively and encouraged me to continue writing. Initially most of my inspiration came from the memories I carried and the example our father set for our family. And I expect that my writing will continue to occasionally be seasoned with his influence.
There’s this thing facing us called the future. And I am no better at understanding it than you are. It could be that this hobby I have started will die out as quickly as it came to life. But as long as inspiration favors me, I want to continue working on my craft. Maybe someday, somehow, by some miracle, something written here can actually make a small difference for the good in someone’s life. Praise to God if it does!
I have never wished for this site to only include my writings. If you have an inspiration you would like to share, please feel free to send it to me at the email below. I would love to hear from you!
Email: thepeakofinspiration@gmail.com
The Peak of Inspiration 
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