I’ve tried to write for everyone else.

Except for me.

I’m not talking about the book.

I’m talking about my life.

I couldn’t find my voice.

Even though it seemed to always come alive between the pages of my journal.

I stopped journaling for a very long season.

I forgot about words, the way a poppy growing wild in gravel on the side of the road without sunshine closes and hides.

But, faith is as mysterious as it is real.  

Faith is a living journey.

It finds a way.

Everyday Stories

I’m only beginning to understand.  A word — your story — even if small as a mustard seed may lay hidden, but never forgotten.

There is Someone who is intimately familiar with our unspoken voices.

He is the confidante and companion who will journey with us into the whitespaces of our stories — where our hearts are tender, virgin, and untouched. His hand will fold into ours as we gather our courage to live them out. As is.

This Someone is Jesus. And one day, we’ll hear all the stories He’s traveling alongside each of us face to face.

Until then, He’s given you and me a pen and a blank page called life, in which to write those stories.

By living them in the everyday through joys, sorrows, dreams, and even loss.

Not only that, Jesus gave us each other for this journey.

So that we can have a piece of heaven, here on earth.  We can hear each other’s everyday stories.  The ones happening in our hearts.

Four Women

Two months ago, when I knew this week would come — when I would step through the doorway into a new chapter in my life — to bring my childhood memories to print, I asked four women from my church to come to my house.

Four women who did not know each other. Who never met before.

Four women who do not have PTSD.

Four everyday women — from different backgrounds, ages and walks of life– who were interested in a new group I was piloting called Whitespace Groups.

I needed to know.

Would my book really take women on a journey to discover spiritual whitespace — to find rest — as I envisioned writing it?

It was the first time in two years I invited a group of women to come gather in my home, since I was debilitated by panic attacks.

Two of the women I knew. Two I didn’t.

Gathering

I told them this group’s purpose is to explore —

ideas to feed our souls,

different ways to take time to rest,

new ways to connect with God deeply.

I told them we would explore why it’s so hard as women to make time to nurture ourselves — what are the obstacles?

I told them we would use my book, because each chapter explores these topics.

Each chapter provides journaling prompts —

for personal reflection,

practical Whitespace ideas to try,

conversation starters for group discussion.

I told them our gathering would be refreshing, to talk about topics we all wonder about, but somehow seldom hear what others think.

There would be no “homework” for this group (which they smiled and breathed). Just enjoy two short chapters a week. Underline if anything touched their hearts. And only journal to writing prompts that spoke to them.

This book was me-time. For them. Whitespace with God.

Finding Our Voices

Even though this is a memoir-driven book about my heartbreaking journey through childhood trauma — where I uncover a different childhood memory in each chapter — I told them this book is not about me. The stories are prompts for their own personal journeys.

Sometimes hearing someone’s else’s intimate stories gives us permission to be present with ours.  We find our voice in the story of another.

And we discover we’re really on the same faith journey, even if things look different on the outside.

Each woman would explore what rest looks like uniquely to her, in her current season of life.

I was so nervous.

Sure, this is what I told them.

But would any of this really happen?

By the time the first night was over, I was in tears, so moved by the experience.  After I hugged them good night and closed the door, I dropped to my knees and just bawled.

They were not talking about me.

They were sharing their stories.

We were sharing conversation that connected us to each other.

And my heart was overwhelmed with joy.

We were finding our voices together.

I didn’t have to “lead” the group. Other than being present and listening in the sharing. The journaling prompts at the end of the chapter naturally led the conversation. Time easily filled up.

I would have never, ever shared my story if God left me simply surviving and doing life — instead of experiencing rest. I would’ve continued hiding.

Your Story

I had to stop writing for anyone else.

Except me.

Don’t be afraid to to write your story.

We each have one story to live.

It’s never too late.

To pick up your pen and begin a new chapter.

To find your voice.

Maybe like me, it’s never even occurred to you to go on such a journey.

It’s okay.

Jesus whispers —

I see you.

I love you.

I know your name.

Let’s tell our stories as kindreds on this journey of faith.

It’s not always easy. But, sometimes the deeper stories are the ones worth telling.

“You are a letter of Christ…written not with ink, 
but with the Spirit of the living God, 
not on tablets of stone, but on tablet of human hearts.” {2 Cor.3:3}

~~~~~

How is God calling you to write a new chapter in your story?

Pull up a chair.  Click to comment. We’re kindreds on this journey.

~~~~~

A Heartfelt Thank You

When I clicked publish on Monday to announce the book Finding Spiritual Whitespace , my body grew ice cold, my teeth started chattering and I felt dizzy.  The old PTSD me was warning me what I was doing was dangerous.  But, I’ve come far enough in my journey to know I could not turn back, even if it meant I would experience panic and anxiety.

Thank you for being present with me this week.  Your kindness and support carries me like a buoy on the sea, where I can rest and find kinship. You read between the lines and journey with me. You guys are the best {choked up}.

Last week, leading up to this week, I was experiencing some very intense panic attacks for the first time since last year’s breakthrough.  I think God knew I was so afraid of the uncertainty ahead, I needed some special reassurance to not turn back.

I’m still absorbing this, but I wanted to share some encouraging news. I received my first book review from Publisher’s Weekly:

“Gray, a popular blogger at Faith Barista, set out to fulfill her lifelong dream of writing a book. When she began, however, repressed memories resurfaced and the book turned into a reluctant account of her journey through unrecognized post-traumatic stress.

The author relates the heartbreaking childhood experiences that led to severe panic attacks, insomnia, and fear.Helping her through her confrontation with her own past are a supportive husband, a good therapist, and white space—places in her life like the blank areas of an artist’s canvas—where she can rest and tend her soul.

She offers intriguing insights into scripture and on how God views his flawed but beloved creations.

At each chapter’s end, journaling prompts help readers identify areas where they need to create white space.

More than just a memoir, this is an invitation to walk the difficult road to self-discovery and healing with a fellow traveler who understands. Learning how to identify stressors and eliminate emotional clutter will benefit anyone, not just those suffering from PTSD.”

As I read the review, I cried and cried my sorrows until it seemed it was bottomless. Three words caught my heart.

Flawed, but beloved.

Powerful words. One I feared about myself. The other I’ve longed to be true.

Now with you here on this journey, I’m stepping out to accept one and believe the other. 

Now It’s Your Turn — Link Up!

To inspire your stories, here is our new Whitespace Thursday Linkup Badge. Write what prompts your heart. Share your voice.

Today’s Thursday 4/24/14 writing prompt:  your story

Next Thursday’s 5/1/14 writing prompt:  promise 

Other Whitespace Prompts: 

– moments of beauty and rest
– feeding your soul
– your alone time with God

Or choose your own open writing prompt.  Be you.

Click  to learn more about Whitespace Thursdays.