STORIES

Just had one of those mornings where I freaked out over imagined failings, all to find out the fear was for nothing and the situation had already been resolved. How often is life like that? How many days do we let go by spent bracing for the worst when they could be spent expecting the best and just watching the adventure unfold?


I’ve spent a lot of time pondering what to make of the stories of my life, how to share them in a way that is helpful to others, and how difficult it sometimes is to not think of myself as a victim. But it came to me today… All that is past are but stories in a book with pages that have turned and gone.

How do we tell our stories? How will we write them? The choice is ours.