Sometimes, God redeems your story by surrounding you with people who need to hear about your past so it doesn’t become their future.
I was reading something recently that mentioned a writer I had not heard of. I Googled to find her online home and popped over to her blog.
i read a post or two and dug back into her archives to get a sense of her story. She wrote in a style I like about simple happy everyday things. A kindred spirit.
Except it was too perfect.
And it bugged me.
For me to connect with someone in person or through their words I have to be able to see past the facade to the reality.
And the reality is that life is messy. It’s hard. It hurts.
If you’re willing to share your real story and hear my real story, chances are we’ll find commonalities that reinforce our belief that we’re not so different after all. We connect.
I have to have some level of faith that I can extend a hand to help you slog through the muck and trust that a hand will be extended back to me when I stumble into a pit: in person or through story.
Imperfect helping imperfect.
Face to face. Masks dropped. Heart to heart.
Isn’t that connection what we are all longing for? I know I am. Maybe you too?
It’s hard to find sometimes.
Can you think of a time when it happened in your life?
Can we be intentional about being real?
I’d love to hear your thoughts.