I remember all the plans I made to share my book idea with the world around me. I wrapped my bold dreams in brightly colored ribbon and carried them like candy to share with anyone and everyone. There were excerpts from chapters and beautifully designed cards. I thought they would be loved—that I might be loved too.
No one noticed.
Three years ago, I walked boldly into the Festival of Faith and Writing, believing I had a big story to tell. I walked out of that same conference, feeling small and inadequate and alone. Weeks later, I would take the same story to another writers’ conference, only to be told there was no need for my words.
The story hasn’t been rewritten. But I have. And that’s a better story.
Three years ago, I focused on the words, and wanted every one of them to bloom and blanket the land like fields of flowers. Now, the focus is far more on the unwritten story, the nuance, the conversations, the grit and the glory. The power of story is that it lives on, regardless of how it’s shared—or if it’s shared at all. Because the good stories are the lives we live fully. Maybe those lives will be splashed like ink on pages for all to read. Or maybe those lives will simply be inscribed in the hearts of those who live that life with us. I believe now that, no matter what the future holds with our stories, inscribed hearts are where true legacy lies.
Three years ago, I saw glorious fields of flowers. Today, I am overwhelmed by the finely detailed beauty of the garden of souls like ours.
I shared these words with you a year ago, love. They’ve not been rewritten, and they are still for you now.
If you need an ear to hear your story, mine would love to listen. If you today are feeling small and inadequate and alone, know that I feel your heart and am praying right now. If you have dreams, know that they are like flowers. And they will bring beauty and life to others— because YOU bring beauty and life to others. You are the best story. Don’t forget that.