I have to smile when i’m asked what is my story. I mean where do I begin, the beginning maybe, but do you have a couple of hours to sit and listen?
How do I take you from a hard childhood to a marriage with loss and pain.
Do I tell you about the financial worries we had when we started out, how bad money management made them worse leaving us spiraling towards debt and losing our own home.
Do I mention the nightmare that became reality when Rett Syndrome invaded our lives. When our normal healthy daughter disappeared into the world of disability and illness.
Shall I whisper the words miscarriage.
Shall I dare talk about the walk down the road that saw me beaten and left in agony, the start of a life time of illness thanks to the collapsing of my immune system.
Can I utter the words ‘ then my daughter died’ again and watch the pity cross the faces of the listener.
Do I dare, do I want to, can I share?
Yet the truth is this, yes these are my story, the lines etched in the worry marks across my face. In the shadow that haunts my eyes.
But this isn’t the whole story.
I am so blessed in life.
God granted me the gift of motherhood, four amazing beautiful daughters I get to call mine.
A husband that drives me insane but I love with all my heart.
I have a family who are diverse and different but I love with everything that I have.
A roof over my head, money that goes in the bank even if its doesn’t stay there long.
I am blessed.
My story has been a journey that has faced heartache and pain, yet every page, every word is full of love and the wonder of God’s amazing grace.
My story may have a beginning a middle but the end is yet to be written, I’m leaving the writing in our creator hands.
2 thoughts on “Story”
Yes, our stories are all still being written. Sometimes we don’t want to tell our previous chapters or share our current one. Thank you for doing both. 🙂
We don’t always grasp the full meaning of our stories, but they are ours to tell and in some cases, we must tell them for our own healing and for the healing of others. Sorrow is a hard road to walk alone, thankful for Jesus! N