I’ve told you my old story, but it is just that, an old story. The time has come for me to tell…no, write, a new story. It is time for me to unleash myself from the prison of self-imposed limits. Of living down to the expectations of others, because they haven’t allowed themselves to embrace the possibilities of dreams, nor to explore beyond the boarders of safety.
A new story for me, is in no way a spiteful act against the hopes of those who have hopes for me, it is just an acknowledgement that I have come to realize that there is more for me beyond those expectations. That, in fact, those expectations cripple me, not because I cannot reach that level, but because that life would make “me” obsolete.
I am defining “me” here as the spark of creativity, of intelligence, of personality–me as an individual, unique with potential yet unmeasured. This year, I will get to know that “me,” and I will follow her around to see where she takes me. So help me God.
I cannot tell a new story walking an old path, I can only tell an old story in new ways that way. So I must make my peace with the unknown, with walking where the light of predictability has not yet shone.
It is time to tell a new story.
And that is exactly what I intend to do, you see… I’ve decided to pursue writing. Don’t laugh, many of you led me to this place, whether you realize it or not.
There was the paper heart of compliments from grade three, where you praised me for knowing what to say when someone was discouraged, for coming to the side of those who cry. In 8th grade you encouraged me to submit poetry to a local competition, and I earned an honorable mention. Then in high school, you gave me the nickname of letter writer, note giver, you praised my poetry and prose. In college, you kept my essays to use for examples in your future classes. Recently, you’ve told me that you are moved by my words, the way I add poetic graces to the simplest of stories, and that you think my future is ahead of me down this road….and this time, I believed you.
I don’t know the path to getting paid to write, and right now, while it is a concern, the heaviest burden on my heart is that I must tell the story of hope. I must, by all means and all creativity, tell you that you are good enough, that you have so much to give, and that you possess so much more just waiting to be set free in potential.
You see, the story I have to tell is a love story. It’s going to be about all the many ways average people, like you…like me, can set love free. It’s a story how your little drop you have to spare can be multiplied exponentially. It will be my job, to win your trust and make you believe, and that is just what I intend to do.
So, journey with me, dear friend and reader, through the pages of this new story before you. One word at a time it will be revealed, spilling out into sentences, paragraphs, and pages of love… of hope…of mystery, and victory.
And I am not a jealous author, along these lines, because this is a story I hope you will all tell as well.
May you all have a blessed 2016.
Love,
Becky
Hope & Haworthia 