Everyone has a story. I say.
But what if my story isn’t important? You say.
What if it’s small and stitched together with load after load of laundry or hours spent trapped in the commute to work or nights spent wiping the hot heads of sick kids.
What if my story is ordinary?
What if I haven’t traveled, I’m not a human rights advocate, I don’t understand the nuances of free trade, and my subject matter is small people, tiny humans I’m trying to raise without losing my mind.
I say – that, right there, is your story.
And if you’re stuck between jobs and it hurts – that’s your story.
And if you love to bake and live in the kitchen and breathe in recipes – that is your story.
And if your children have left the nest long ago and you’ve got all this time and you’re not sure how to fill it – that is your story.
And if you watch someone else’s kids from 9 to 5 and go home to an empty apartment wondering when you’ll have your own kids – that is your story.
And if you run some days and other days forget to run. But if you want to keep running because you’re changing and you want to keep changing – that is your story.
And if you love design and decorating your home and making it a welcome place for others, that is your story.
And if you write for a living, or drive a minivan, or substitute teach, or homeschool, or lead corporate strategic planning meetings, or pray for change from a country that very few have heard about – right there, you are living your story.
Write the story you know.
Write the story you live.
How you see and breathe and shape and understand this glorious, broken, beautiful, redeemed world that Christ has given us. We need that.
We need your story.
So go ahead, take a deep breath and tell me: what is the story that you have to tell?
I’ll go first: I tell the story of a woman who never thought she’d want to be a mom. And it turns out that Jesus had saved the best till last all along.