Wednesday, August 14, 2013

Story

It started in the basement office of my sister's Missouri home. I wanted to connect with my sisters and to have an audience for the voice I needed to be heard. A way to bridge the miles between the hearts and three different states and three very different sisters in very different stages of life.   

So, I started to write my story. Each day I would pour out the daily script of my life in a real and tangible way. I would hit publish and people who became like family, were family would comment and encourage and sometimes disdain and judge.

But, it was my story. 

So, I would write and I began to find my voice in those entries and it was good for a heart so far away from the only home she ever knew, in a place so foreign to anything she was ever before a part of and I started to remember I always loved to write

Stories.

Each day since then God continues to write my story on the pages of history, that to some may seem mundane or ordinary or plain. And some who have become family, are family may comment and encourage and disdain or judge.

But, it is still my story.

And even if no one reads it I will continue to write, even if only for myself.     

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