Something I find so much more meaningful to write instead of blogs about a current life experiences, is to instead take those experiences and rewrite them as a creative short stories. I am saying this because I’ve decided to make this blog primarily about short stories now. I know many of you have sent me messages or left comments in the past asking me to write more of this type of writing. So I am starting a new chapter to do just that.
Growing up as Christian, one of the scariest things in my mind was sharing the gospel. It was so awkward talking about heaven and hell with strangers on the street and passing out those little black and white tracks that you basically just dictated to the blinking, mostly nice strangers who stared at you apologetically.
Each morning I’ve begun to wake up with more joy and energy than the last. I’ve started to dream again, to do things with a boldness and strength I haven’t felt in a long time. I thrive on consistency. I realized I’ve got to stop feeling guilty for this.
I realized I needed space. I needed to be more than just a mother. I need identity outside of that. I need to admit that motherhood was not the totality and fulfillment of who I was. This was so hard to realize and even declare over myself. I had made motherhood an idol and it it failed me because it wasn’t suppose to be that.