Its 11:35 and for the first time in months I am thinking about putting words on paper. I don’t know about what or for who but it is progress to feel the keys under my fingers again. For so long I was so tired of my story so angry that all I had was a broken past through which God taught but I lost focus of who this was about. It wasn’t about my broken past that made girls read, ok maybe that got them started but what kept them reading is Gods redemptive power. What keeps life going in general is God’s story, not mine. My stories are just crushing tales of a girl who made all the wrong choices, and without God my story would end where it began, in my deep need to fit in. However because of him, because he is mighty to save and because he has hopes and dreams for me he gave me something more. He gave me himself. He gave me a firm place to stand when my world is spiraling out of control. He gave me a shoulder to cry when the pain is just too much to bear. He gave me a story to tell about his great love not my great screw ups.
People have often applauded me when I tell them the premise of my book, a drunken teen who looks for love in all the wrong places, and for a while I believed that I was doing some courageous but the truth is I am saying what needs to be said. I am doing what I promised God I would do when I took up my cross, I am telling the story of redemption and you don’t get to redemption without first being broken. I stopped writing because I lost sight of who this was about, I stopped writing because I got caught up in what I had done rather than what God had done for me. But thanks to a few gentle reminders from readers I was reminded that my cause is not about me, it’s about him, the one who can save a wretch like me and wash me clean.