It is my blog’s second anniversary today. For years people have been telling me I should write a book, that my story is worth being told, that it has already been used to heal and help, and that the more it is heard, the greater the value will be in the heartache shared. And I agree. I always tell my two children that, if our pain and brokenness doesn’t lead us into places where we can better hold space, reveal truth, bear witness, carry grief, embrace pain, and honor joy, both for ourselves and others, then our valley of the shadow of death has been victorious.
I’m still broken, and I’m still working on me. I’m still breathing life into my survivor aura, all too often being dragged back into a victim isolation and frozenness. But one day I’ll write that book. I’ll put my days and diaries into permanent ink. I’ll stand strong in my redemption story, boldly speaking it’s message of resurrection and rebirth, of the regifting of days that the locusts once stole.
But until then, until I muster that courage, hopefully you will find empathy and compassion here, and know that you’re not walking this journey alone.