smelling the flowers.

We all have a story. Each chapter has a plot; sometimes it's mystery, a drama, a comedy, a thriller and hopefully not a murder. Stories can be a quick read, simple yet entertaining. or they can be quite detailed and rather boring. Some characters create chaos and long for complexity. Other people live for tranquility and hope for serenity. Whatever our life story, it is real to us and alive. The words created on a page are not just words formed out of the alphabet, they have meaning. They have purpose. They create who we are. How our character develops; how our story develops. How the story is told. The readers will listen from their perspective. And we will learn from each and every chapter. Hopefully.

"Just keep on writing even if all you can write is 'life stinks'". I like this quote. Because as I stare at the blank page, I am so scared of the words being formed. So I don't write. I don't move. I am frozen with fear. I become stagnant. I get stuck. If I form the words "Life Stinks", I take a away the power. The power I feel is stripping me of who I am. Making me sad. Allowing my heart to hurt.

So I persevere. I smell the flowers dropped off on my desk at work. I sip coffee with company who loves me. I answer the phone from a caller who asks me how I am doing. I repeat the words, "I love you" a little more and receive the same words back. I force a smile. I let the tears flow. I allow laughter to fill space and float in the silent air. I gaze upon a wall art that reminds
me that God is present. I cling to the prayers being offered. I am in community. A family. I belong.

My story is not finished. This chapter is done. Maybe. Or maybe it is just beginning. The pain is intense. As I lean into it, I cry out for my voice to be heard. Is he listening? But more importantly, am I? It's my story.