We are tethered to the story we must tell.
Whether we let it out or keep it sequestered – whether we spill it over our lives in obvious ways or drip it lightly in the coy unaware of unintentional act…. we are what we breathe.
If we inhale the aroma of grace, mercy, memory and light – we naturally give it back into the folds around us. But the awe expands in the times where we absorb the shards of broken, unfair, unrest – the beats of dissonance and vitriol and yet we find a way to not perpetuate or multiply the painful, yet instead we take it in, transform it, turn it inside out and choose to export forgiveness, kindness, truth, humility and the longevity of love.
I stopped in the doorway of my room this morning, looking out at my perfectly sized apartment and I sat in the moment of thanksgiving for this beautiful, sturdy, warm and inviting home. Lights were dim, decor directing like one outdoors, even though in. Trees, mountain, branches, dock to still waters – I have come to settle deeper into this space of mine and I stood in the frame, smiling and audibly giving thanks for the joy and happiness felt. Taking the moment in and knowing He was the author of it, of me, of every thread and piece.
Maybe you’re stronger than I am. You may be a person created with a drive and ambition that propels you consistently towards that which you set your eyes upon.
I would like to buy you a cup of coffee or tea and let you share your story of how you are built and the paths you’ve allowed yourself to take in the confident awareness that what you were crafted to do – you live in the knowledge that you will, and that you will actively participate in the fruition of your dreams.
Even more impressive is when you are beating with the same heart as His and you live a life not of your own ambition or goal, but of the understanding that is it His, bestowed upon you, and that to live in obedience means to step purposefully into your hours and days.
I desire to be such a person. For 33 years I’ve been your opposite. Not in all ways – for I know His desires for me; they have been laid out since I was a child so clearly that I know they did not originate in my own skin. Yet I do not know how to be as confident in the directions and details and small goals towards the larger dream. I haven’t nailed the ability to support myself like the skill He has given me to support others. That gift is much, much easier to live out. I don’t question the ability of another. I believe it fervently and endlessly.
So why so opposing towards self? Sin. Brokenness. Spiritual warfare.
I’m sure there are many reasons
, but the enemy within and around contributes. I don’t know another answer that matches both so easily and in confusing complication.
Yet what I do know is that there is a friction rising. The plates beneath the surface have been shifting and the ground may crack to let the underneath come up at last. What I do know is that He has been diligent and persistent and I want, more than anything, to obey and follow.
He has been telling me: write a book.
Not a children’s book this time (though I know, that stands unfinished too).
It came through louder at Allume
. Even before meeting with the literary agent.
Yet meeting with her, it was a clearly rung starting bell – write this. So much so, that those were her words as well. The end of our meeting was an invitation – “Write your book and e-mail me the proposal. This hasn’t been said and I think it’s important.”
This is not a small request and there will be so much I will have to actively choose to do to step forward in this. I cannot describe how very difficult this will be for me. Yet I know that this has been stirring for quite some time – this topic and I do believe it’s a conversation worth starting and sharing. I am not sharing the details just yet, because much work is to be done to organize it.
Funnily enough, I had zero intention of sharing this yet.
I wasn’t going to reveal this, outward, for quite some time.
I cannot explain why I am now, except that I sat down to write a post about something else, and this spilled out instead.
[A changed title as result.]
First steps are important I suppose, as are the small and large in between.
We are connected to our stories. That which we must tell, and find one way or another to speak. We are all moving through the weeks of this life sharing our story. It may not be in words, but in deeds. It may not be intentional, but unavoidable. It may not be loud, but covert.
However it’s told, we are the embodiment of a tale worth telling.
May you, along with me, learn that we are meant to finish the good He began in us, long ago. May we learn to be brave in our callings.