My Stories Go Unread, but Life Goes On

Years ago, I sat staring at a blank screen, wanting nothing more than to write. So in awe of what the Lord accomplishes in my life, I was overwhelmed by the desire to share it with the world. So far, the world remains clueless about God’s providence and our connection. Yet, I stay the course, even if only for an audience of one. Me. Okay, two. God reads this blog, so He counts, as well.

Maybe, in all the hype, I was the one who needed to see, hear, and read of the greatness of the Almighty. Twelve years of writing, often venting, about the nonsense that overstimulated my senses and took me down roads I never thought I’d walk. What if, in God’s perfect and secretive way, He challenged me to write every piece of my heart (well, almost every piece) so that I can look back to see Him there.

That’s been the question of my life and the fight in our relationship. “Where are you, God?”

“I am always here,” he says, through my screaming and kicking moments of rage. God tolerates my anger. I pray it away, but it never leaves me, and neither does He. Which seems odd to me, because how does peace and anger both reside in one human soul? I can’t answer that, but I can assure you it does.

Why are you angry, you ask. That is a long list. It spans my lifetime and can be spelled out here on the blog, which very few read.

Reflecting I ask, “What in the world led me, in 2014, to create a website?” Honestly, there is no answer. They asked me back then, and I said, “I don’t know.” I could use it to inspire others, but the others who need it probably never hear a word. I could use it to market myself as a speaker and writer, but I don’t really do that.

In all these years, I write because what’s on my heart needs to be released. Sharing myself on a screen is safe. Also, I can’t be interrupted here. No one else gets to say a word! Insert mischievous grin here.

I matter. My words, even if no other human ever reads them, always matter. There is significance and purpose in this comfort and truth.

God has met me in this space for over a decade. Willing to listen to every joy, sadness, disappointment, success, failure, and mostly pain. Many pieces written drip with the blood of a broken heart. Most syllables reflect a mad mind confused by the selfish and lost decisions of others.

But there is so much more to me than a victim-filled love story. By that, I mean the love story between God and me.

For the first time in years, I see myself as something more than the everyday labels. Don’t get me wrong, I love my life. I love being a wife, daughter, mother, nana, and all the things that come with it. And yes, they’ve all defined me at one time or another in profound ways.

We evolve through time. I am no longer the person I was as a young teenage mother. I’m no longer the person I was a year ago! Time, combined with my effort to surrender, along with God’s grace and mercy, has healed all wounds. Some say that’s not possible. I suggest revisiting the definition of surrender.

It took a trying act of self-abandonment to resolve the internal conflicts. God tells me all day long how loved and healed I am, through Christ Jesus. I told myself the healing He provides was separate from the depth of healing I still needed. Torn between his truth and my worldly perception, I stalled His work in me.

Today is a new day. I don’t necessarily feel new. My body has aged. Wrinkles tell their own story of life. Dying my hair and going to the bathroom at 3:00 am are competing for a medal. The gift of aging seems to be lacking.

The new day isn’t about the creaks and cracks of this vessel. I long for more than youthful energy and overdue, probably deserved, redo’s. My greatest desires often seem behind me, but that’s only because I spent so much time looking back.

The truth is so much of life is still ahead, even if it’s only one more day. In a single moment, a person can feel the greatest pleasure, happiness, or thrill of their life. It can happen at 15, 35, or 90. Age doesn’t come with a stop sign. We don’t stop experiencing the joys of living just because our entire life moves towards dying.

The reality remains that at every age, life is happening, and dying is inevitable. Acceptance is freedom.

No one is going to read your stories as you do! They will never experience your emotions or joy. They’ll never fully comprehend your agony. The point is to live as if you’ll never be interrupted. Live in the truth that you matter, that life is not behind you. I choose to focus ahead. One, it’s much easier on my neck after surgery, turning is a struggle; and two, everything back there is passed- the past.

We can’t change what’s no longer active and movable. It’s set and written in stone. We don’t have to forget, though there are many moments I wouldn’t mind forgetting. But you must turn the key to life, and live.

If you parked at the stop sign for a while, forgive yourself, put it in gear, and hit the gas. Rev the engine, it’s time to go.

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