There once was a girl, not too different from many other girls. She was neither drop dead gorgeous nor unattractive. She was not brilliant, but school wasn't too hard. Sometime early in life, this girl learned how to please. She is not sure when it happened, but she began to tell a story with her life that cultivated praise. She worked hard enough for good grades, she looked for ways to help others and she knew how to 'behave' to fit into most any crowd. This story made her feel good and so she never thought about the story she wasn't telling.
This girl got older. She met a boy who saw her untold story and loved her anyway. But most of the time, the story she was creating went on. She continued to fit in, continued to help others and continued to thrive on any "Atta girl" she could earn. She became a mother and for the first time, she could not act her way through to gaining approval. Upholding her story and the act of parenting three small children became more and more stressful. She began to look forward to her nightly glass(es) of wine as it allowed her not to care quite so much about the story. She wondered if this was all a part of getting older. She worked harder to 'do good'.
Thankfully, while she was born with this desire for approval, she was also born a seeker. She was surrounded by people in her life that showed her the way to the spirit through prayer, meditation and gratitude. She began to hear, "Come as you are." And slowly, oh so slowly she began to desire to tell a different story. One that might not be the one everyone else wanted to hear. One that would lead her to days where sitting with the brokenness of the world was all she could muster. One that often required more listening and less doing. One where she could feel the presence of the spirit and that was enough.
Her untold story is still a quiet one. She has lived the other story for so long. Most moments, that story is the easier one for her to tell. It is like an old coat that still fits, is second nature to put on, but is now too weathered to provide true warmth.
She has begun to wonder about the untold stories of others. A different story from the one they often show the world. A different story from the one she has written about them in her own mind. She desires to listen for these stories. She knows she will find beauty there. And that it is there in these beautiful, untold stories where she will find God.
This girl got older. She met a boy who saw her untold story and loved her anyway. But most of the time, the story she was creating went on. She continued to fit in, continued to help others and continued to thrive on any "Atta girl" she could earn. She became a mother and for the first time, she could not act her way through to gaining approval. Upholding her story and the act of parenting three small children became more and more stressful. She began to look forward to her nightly glass(es) of wine as it allowed her not to care quite so much about the story. She wondered if this was all a part of getting older. She worked harder to 'do good'.
Thankfully, while she was born with this desire for approval, she was also born a seeker. She was surrounded by people in her life that showed her the way to the spirit through prayer, meditation and gratitude. She began to hear, "Come as you are." And slowly, oh so slowly she began to desire to tell a different story. One that might not be the one everyone else wanted to hear. One that would lead her to days where sitting with the brokenness of the world was all she could muster. One that often required more listening and less doing. One where she could feel the presence of the spirit and that was enough.
Her untold story is still a quiet one. She has lived the other story for so long. Most moments, that story is the easier one for her to tell. It is like an old coat that still fits, is second nature to put on, but is now too weathered to provide true warmth.
She has begun to wonder about the untold stories of others. A different story from the one they often show the world. A different story from the one she has written about them in her own mind. She desires to listen for these stories. She knows she will find beauty there. And that it is there in these beautiful, untold stories where she will find God.
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