Writing my Story
This week, I shared some empathetic conversations with a friend who is suffering tremendously. My heart ached but she spoke words that resonated in my heart and echoed as if they were spoken about my own life.
"This is not the story I wanted but I have to make peace with the fact that this is the story I was given."
And then I looked into this eyes in this picture.
She was given a story much more deeply painful than my friends or mine. And she only had two days of peace at my last knowledge. I had 24 hours to hug V and love her and hug her close to my heart and then she was gone. Taken back into a life of slavery and I cannot imagine what other terrors. Not a day goes by that I do not see her eyes haunting my mind.
And not a day goes by that my own story does not haunt me.
A million times I've failed, but His mercy remains.
My story was not what I asked for. But it is what was given to me. So I walk towards full Freedom. And some moments, I'm crawling. But I'm still moving.
Jesus knows how the plot twists and turns. I'm going to hang on to that. Because nothing passed to me without his knowledge or allowance. Why? I don't know. And believe me, I've asked. But what matters is grace. Deeply graced people deeply grace others.
My heart has been broken and healed and broken and healed again and again. I am sure yours has too. To make light of a heavy thing, I shall share snippets of the stories of the men who have cracked the glass in my life. The most recent one, when told I would write about him, panicked and tried to do a bit of damage control. I told him simply, his rights were forfeit when he broke my heart and made the story mine. So I will heal with the pieces being given to aid in others' suffering. It's why we are given our stories. To share them with others for healing and redemption.
I wish I could tell V's story. But I don't know her story. I just know her eyes. And they haunt me. So I will tell the only story I know until I can tell the story of those who need a voice more than me. There are stories to tell and not enough time to tell them all. So I start with me - with the broken hearts and the relationship struggles. Because people like me need to know they are not alone.
"This is not the story I wanted but I have to make peace with the fact that this is the story I was given."
And then I looked into this eyes in this picture.
She was given a story much more deeply painful than my friends or mine. And she only had two days of peace at my last knowledge. I had 24 hours to hug V and love her and hug her close to my heart and then she was gone. Taken back into a life of slavery and I cannot imagine what other terrors. Not a day goes by that I do not see her eyes haunting my mind.
And not a day goes by that my own story does not haunt me.
A million times I've failed, but His mercy remains.
Unforgiven by some. Redeemed by One.
Abandoned by some. Accepted by One.
Misunderstood by some. Known by One.
Broken by many, Healed & Held by One.
Shamed by some. Dignfied by One.
Sold off by some. Bought by the blood of One.
My story was not what I asked for. But it is what was given to me. So I walk towards full Freedom. And some moments, I'm crawling. But I'm still moving.
Jesus knows how the plot twists and turns. I'm going to hang on to that. Because nothing passed to me without his knowledge or allowance. Why? I don't know. And believe me, I've asked. But what matters is grace. Deeply graced people deeply grace others.
My heart has been broken and healed and broken and healed again and again. I am sure yours has too. To make light of a heavy thing, I shall share snippets of the stories of the men who have cracked the glass in my life. The most recent one, when told I would write about him, panicked and tried to do a bit of damage control. I told him simply, his rights were forfeit when he broke my heart and made the story mine. So I will heal with the pieces being given to aid in others' suffering. It's why we are given our stories. To share them with others for healing and redemption.
I wish I could tell V's story. But I don't know her story. I just know her eyes. And they haunt me. So I will tell the only story I know until I can tell the story of those who need a voice more than me. There are stories to tell and not enough time to tell them all. So I start with me - with the broken hearts and the relationship struggles. Because people like me need to know they are not alone.
That was beautiful. And wonderfully wildly honest. Reminds me of a note I got just before my wedding. If said "Where the Spirit of The Lord is there is freedom." I balked because I thought if meant one thing but it actually was pointing me to the freeing work Jesus planned to do in my new family.
ReplyDeleteAnd He did. And He does.
Amen.