{day 5} holding out our hands

finding your story takes time. it takes courage and persistence and the ability to straighten your back and say to the darkness, "today i will not fear you."

but most of all, it takes the Lover of our souls to gently pry open those dark spaces and strip off the layers of what we believe.

without Him, we wander. and there's nothing wrong with wandering if we're headed in the right direction. there's nothing wrong with allowing the wind to blow back your hair if you're walking hand-in-hand with One who knows where you need to be - and what you were created to become.

when i started writing my novel, i never really thought about my main character. i was too busy trying to make sure no one thought i was writing myself into another character who happens to be a teacher. i'm a firm believer in using what you know {as well as your God-given creativity} to create. but i mean, there comes a point when you read something and the author vehemently states, this isn't me and you think really? cause didn't this very thing happen to you? 


i kept writing, and i kept developing characters to the best of my ability. my first draft was pretty rough and would have made anne lamott proud. but. i got to a point where i couldn't write anymore.

i couldn't finish the story. 

and my main character was stuck in this horrible spot of limbo and i knew where i wanted her to end up but i couldn't get her there because i was done. i couldn't go there anymore and so i stuck my manuscript on my dresser and let it collect dust.

last january, russ and i started recovery. and i started looking inward - noticing themes and patterns. namely, my inability to trust in His love and my struggle with allowing my husband to protect me.

and some where in the midst of all this, a friend read my book and called me in tears telling me i had to finish it and so i did. i grabbed the manuscript off my dresser, closed my eyes and breathed deep His strength.

what i found was my story.

i found a story of a girl who questions her worth. as i read Stephanie's words, i knew somewhere deep, my story found its way on to my computer screen without me even knowing. and no, the story isn't autobiographical. i wasn't trafficked. but i get the hesitancy to feel. i get the loneliness. and i definitely understand the lack of trust. i know the feeling of tightness in your chest when certain people walk in the room and the memories that haunt you while you try to fall asleep...

and because i finally knew, i was able to write the ending because i finally saw her rescue - and our Rescue - rests in the hands of One who sits on the edge of His seat in anticipation, waiting for us to ask for help.

all we have to do is hold out our hands, letting Him know we're in for the ride - regardless of the shadows in the distance.

what fears do you have in asking Him to help show you the story He's created for you?



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Posted on October 4, 2011 and filed under finding{and telling}your story.