Three simple words put together that have so much hope and possibility and vulnerability wrapped together. A title for a book that has been dreamed of, prayed over and labored through. A work in progress, just like me.
Words change me. Words motivate me, discourage me, shape me. As part of my healing and letting go, I have been walking down memory lane of the last 10 years of my life. Sorting through old pictures has led me down rabbit holes of memories. In my memory boxes I find high school report cards, swim team pictures, and memories I had long forgotten.
I read words written about me as a teenager. Words that encouraged and pushed me. In high school I had a teacher that stated that I needed to try harder in my Literature class.
This hurt my perfectionist and over achieving heart looking back and reading those words. The truth is, I probably could have. Isn’t it true that we could all try a little harder? At what point do we really say, yes this is my absolute best?
I wonder if that is why I labor over words. Because I know they can always be better. I have found in my own writing journey that I improve with time and experience. I learn, I adjust, I grow. Maybe that is what my high school teacher was simply trying to do with her words; help me improve.
I put words to the page because my soul aches for it. But I share the words with the world because it makes me better. Sharing my words makes me a better person, a better writer, a better everything. Sharing my story has provided me with opportunity, with love, with community.
Sharing my story is what I believe in.
Divorce caused me to question what I believe in. It still does sometimes. But with each passing day I find myself standing firmer on solid ground. It has taken time and work, so much work. But I am building the foundation of my life over again, piece by piece.
I question the pieces often. The progress is much slower than I would like. But the pieces are forming, bit by bit. The layers are getting deeper and the light is always breaking through.
I love waking up and not knowing what the day is going to hold. For so long, my life was the same. Teach, eat, sleep, repeat. The world is a little more heartbreaking now with each passing memory and heartache. But it is also a little more hopeful, full of more adventure and a love story waiting to be written.
I debate whether or not to finish my story in the middle, whether to put my story out there with an unknown ending.
I am 30,000 words into Finding Solid Ground and I know it is not ready just yet. I am the one writing the story and yet I don’t know the ending. Right now, it ends with a wish: a dream for a family that is solid, filled with love and commitment. A family that stands on solid ground knit together by love.