Stories
Yesterday I spent time with two friends that I haven't seen in a long while. Friends that knew me when; at a time in my life when things were hard, but there was still room for fun and love. They live eight hours away, and I haven't seen them since their wedding three years ago. But the distance closed in almost as soon as I saw Chris' grin and twinkly eyes.
I met their baby girl in person for the first time. They treated me to a fabulous lunch. They made friends with the waitress, and allowed baby Asia to charm the wait staff, all gathered around her as she plucked unlikely treasures out of our waitress' pocket, totally at ease in her arms. I was so proud of them, showing hospitality in that restaurant as if they were welcoming the waitstaff into their home.
Collette told me that maybe I'd write a book someday. She said I had a story. I didn't have much of a response; I was grateful for her encouragement, a little embarrassed because I find it so darn hard to just take encouragement without qualifying it somehow. But I am grateful for it.
The conversation stuck in my head, and I thought about what it would mean to write my story. It's a hum dinger by some people's standards; blase by others', perhaps. I've lived through some difficulty, and learned what I feel are some deep truths about God, love, life, priorities. My heart is to make the most of what God has given me in this life before I leave it; to connect to the pain of others as much as possible and somehow, in the connecting, to reveal the life of Christ. If I were to write, I would want my story to do that.
But, it isn't just my story.
My story also belongs to others who have helped me, who have hurt me, who still wrestle with demons in the dark. It's a story of victory and vulnerability. It holds precious secrets that are attached to fragile hearts. It is full of whispered kindnesses that cannot be transcribed outside of my soul.
I do try to tell my story without telling all of it. I try to share my life, to listen for God's heart, to look for opportunities God would use through me to redeem what has been lost. To actively prevent loss. I want God to use every bit of my life that sin has worn and wounded. I want my story to be His.
"Jesus did many other things as well. If every one of them were written down, I suppose that even the whole world would not have room for the books that would be written." (John 21:25)
I wonder what things Jesus did that were not written? I don't know them, but I know Him.
God bless you, Chris, Collette, and Asia. I'm so glad you're part of my story.
I met their baby girl in person for the first time. They treated me to a fabulous lunch. They made friends with the waitress, and allowed baby Asia to charm the wait staff, all gathered around her as she plucked unlikely treasures out of our waitress' pocket, totally at ease in her arms. I was so proud of them, showing hospitality in that restaurant as if they were welcoming the waitstaff into their home.
Collette told me that maybe I'd write a book someday. She said I had a story. I didn't have much of a response; I was grateful for her encouragement, a little embarrassed because I find it so darn hard to just take encouragement without qualifying it somehow. But I am grateful for it.
The conversation stuck in my head, and I thought about what it would mean to write my story. It's a hum dinger by some people's standards; blase by others', perhaps. I've lived through some difficulty, and learned what I feel are some deep truths about God, love, life, priorities. My heart is to make the most of what God has given me in this life before I leave it; to connect to the pain of others as much as possible and somehow, in the connecting, to reveal the life of Christ. If I were to write, I would want my story to do that.
But, it isn't just my story.
My story also belongs to others who have helped me, who have hurt me, who still wrestle with demons in the dark. It's a story of victory and vulnerability. It holds precious secrets that are attached to fragile hearts. It is full of whispered kindnesses that cannot be transcribed outside of my soul.
I do try to tell my story without telling all of it. I try to share my life, to listen for God's heart, to look for opportunities God would use through me to redeem what has been lost. To actively prevent loss. I want God to use every bit of my life that sin has worn and wounded. I want my story to be His.
"Jesus did many other things as well. If every one of them were written down, I suppose that even the whole world would not have room for the books that would be written." (John 21:25)
I wonder what things Jesus did that were not written? I don't know them, but I know Him.
God bless you, Chris, Collette, and Asia. I'm so glad you're part of my story.
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