Thanks a million.
I’m sitting here on my bed, quiet.
My room is draped in the low light of the multicolored Christmas lights that I recently hung up. My mind is racing and scattered. I know I have a lot that I need and want to say, but I haven’t been able to type up a complete post in a while. I almost forgot what it was like to be able to write a cohesive story. Right now, I’m grasping for words. I want to write about the season I’m in right now, and I want to write about how thankful I am for God’s boundless provision in my life. I want to write about how crippling anxiety can be and how flashbacks of past events can creep in. I want to write about how much I miss the relationships I left when I moved, but how thankful I am for the phone calls and text messages from friends I randomly get. I want to tell you about all the little funny stories I have collected in my short time working in the school therapy setting…and there sure are some good ones!
I want to tell you how I have grown to enjoy running and vegetables (okay, not all of them) and how I no longer have any living cacti plants (I’m just not a good plant mom, okay?). I want to explain my love for POUND fitness and how cool it is to be an instructor. I want to share my experiences with you, and I want to be authentic in what I say (because words matter a whole lot).
When I started writing, I didn’t know what life would look like on the other side.
It was one of my first experiences with being honest and open. When God said “write”, I was scared and I said no for a while. I was afraid of being honest about what I had done and what I had gone through. I was afraid of how the people closest to me would react (as most people didn’t know all or most of what I wrote about). To be completely honest, it still makes me a little uncomfortable to know that with a few clicks or taps anyone in the world can know the majority of my life story.
I look back and see how these stories have made an impact on those around me, how God has used what I’ve been through for his glory. And you know what? He wants to do the same with your story. He wants to turn the ashes of a broken, burned up life into beauty. He wants to turn your past pain into someone else’s promise; he wants you to be able to look someone in the eye and say “you are going to make it”.
But you have to let him.
You have to let go of the fear of people knowing.
You have to let go of the pride.
You have to accept that life might not be the same on the other side; it might just be better.
Looking back at how these past months have changed me, I am so glad I finally said “yes” to sharing with you. I am thankful for the opportunity.
I guess I just rambled on for a while to say this: let him use you. Share your story when you get the chance. It sure is scary at first (and still kind of is) but you can do it.
Find your voice
Find the voice he gave you.
As I finish typing this, I'm still sitting here on my bed. My Christmas lights are still casting a multicolored glow throughout my room. I am still grasping for words. Although I struggled to find the words to write this post, the following two words were easy for me to grasp:
Thank you for listening when you didn't have to. Thank you for taking the time out of your day to comment and encourage me to keep going. Thank you for accepting and not judging.
I don't write for the acceptance and encouragement, but I'm so thankful for your community and your push to keep writing. I plan to continue in the future, whatever that looks like. So thanks.
Thanks a million.