Sometimes you have to ask yourself, “If I could only tell one more story, what would it be?”  Tell it Well is my answer.

Part 1: Alone | Part 2: Sought | Part 3: Found | Part 4: Redeemed | Part 5: Bitter

Six months after my son’s birth I moved home, where I felt like a foreigner.  Everything had changed, my body, my heart, even my soul.  I might have been a junior in high school, but I felt old, and worn, and damaged, and yet,  there was the tiniest bit of hope in my heart.

 Sometimes you have to ask yourself, “If I could only tell one more story, what would it be?”  Tell it Well is my answer.

Part 1: Alone | Part 2: Sought | Part 3: Found | Part 4: Redeemed

God didn’t rescue me, instead, He became real to me and His presence became powerful.  I remember clearly the night my son was born.

 Sometimes you have to ask yourself, “If I could only tell one more story, what would it be?”  Tell it Well is my answer.

Part 1: Alone | Part 2: Sought | Part 3: Found

I prided myself on being strong and self-sufficient.  I could handle things, even if I was only a sophomore in high school.  I took the city bus to prenatal appointments, took my vitamins, signed up for childbirth classes, and worked hard at school.  At least, that was what was happening on the outside; in my heart, I was terrified.  I had no idea what the future held for me and my child.  I could not return home with a baby, and I knew my fostermom couldn’t keep us very long.  I dreamed of rescue, for somebody to offer me a place to live in exchange for babysitting their children, for a kind person to take me in, for a relative to say I could stay with them.  I yearned for one person to say, “I will help you.”

Part 1: Alone | Part 2: Sought | Part 3: Found

Not long ago I realized I had published over 970 posts.  The number kept creeping up and soon I was on the verge of publishing my 1000th post; this nearly paralyzed me. Today is just one more Tuesday and one more post, but I find it sobering to think that I have written my thoughts and tentatively pushed the “publish” button 999 times. There is a sense of responsibility that  comes with this.

As I considered today’s post, I prayed about what I most want to say.  If this were the last time I ever published a thought, what would I want it to be? Driving through the wheat fields on our way home from Seattle last weekend, I got tearful. I told Russ that I wish I could sit with each one of you and share the one thing that matters most to me.

God is writing a story with our lives, but if we don’t share that story, if we don’t live His story, of what use is it?  Today I want to tell you the most profound and only important story of my life.  If I had to give it a title, it would have the word redeem in it, because  Jesus has gone into the grimy corners of my life and redeemed it all.