The Unique Story

I've been having trouble writing lately. The past few posts have been rather forced, and you can probably tell from my writing if you pay attention to such things.

I guess I'm just going through one of those dry spells where you just see very little of note. I've tried to blog several times (probably 9 or 10) getting close to the end of a post, being unsatisfied, deleting, and beginning with a new topic. It's a vicious cycle, really.

Well, I'm going to force myself to write today because it'll be good for me. Get me back on track, you know. Let us begin!

Today in my chemistry class, we had 5 minutes left. My teacher randomly started asking questions about ourselves. People were talking so loud it was easy to not listen, get distracted, and then suddenly the teacher was repeating the question to you four thousand times.

"What's the thing you like most about yourself?"

Oh starfish, how I loathe that question. If I answer, I feel vain. If I don't answer, I feel like I give myself no credit at all.

Being quite taken aback, and stuttered, "Um... I don't really know, honestly. Probably my hair, though. I like my hair." The bell rang. School was over for the day.

I walked out to the bus, thinking on this. I do like my hair. For those of you that haven't seen it, all I really have to say is "think Tangled". I have rather long, quite golden, blonde hair. Definitely my signature attribute, no doubt. But is it really what I like most about myself?

No. No, I don't think it is.

After thinking about it more, I've decided that the thing I like most about myself is my story.

I will not bore you with details of my story, but my story is unique, special, and it has made me who I am today. My story will never end, and began thousands of years ago the moment God decided, "I'm going to create the universe". My story began in that moment and has been inadvertently made possible by all of my ancestors. See, there's my prologue.

My chapters are myself and myself alone. My story is full of people, some good and some not-so-good; family, love, good times, bad times, days with friends, and days without them, betrayals and forgiveness, beginnings and endings, hurts and healing, sins and redemption. Without the first sixteen chapters and that prologue unique to me and only me, I would not be who I am today. Without this sixteenth chapter, I could not be who I'm supposed to be in Chapter Seventeen, or Eighteen, or Nineteen, or Forty.

God is writing the story of my life, and I am quite happy that He is the author.

And one day, that final chapter will receive it's final period, exclamation mark, or question mark, and the epilogue will begin. My epilogue will be part of someone else's prologue. I will be someone else's aunt and someone's mother and someone's wife.

I don't know what the rest of Chapter Sixteen will hold, but the pen is in the hands of the best author in the world, and the One who created the world, for that matter. I know the rest of my story will be pretty cool if someone as amazing as God is holding the pen.

My story, all the intricate words and paper and hands and bodies and eyes and feelings and souls that have affected me, is unique. We all have our own stories, and I am quite proud of mine, even with the mistakes and the streaks of tears I've probably caused God to weep upon the book of my soul.

So now I know what to say next time someone poses the question. I will no doubt confuse everyone within earshot, but that's kind of what I'm always doing, so it's all good.

Picture Source: http://www.writerslobby.com/