Our Stories Lived

Our Stories Shared

Some time ago, I started sharing my story out loud because I believe that sharing our stories can change lives. I hoped my words would encourage you on your own journey. I still believe in the power of sharing, and I often pray that what I write here brings hope and encouragement. But lately, I’ve been thinking more deeply about what it means to share our stories.

Is everything in our lives a story to be shared?

And does the timing and how we share the story matter?

Technology makes sharing stories so easy and immediate. We can have a thought and tell the world right then and there. We can have a delicious meal, an inspiring moment, or a discouraging encounter, and let everyone we know know about it. In our haste to share all our stories, I can’t help but feel that the space in which we do so has become congested, and the impact lessened.

Personally, I have begun to ask myself the “why” behind each story I share. Is it really for the encouragement of others, or has sharing become more of a “look at me” statement?

Maybe we need to fully live through certain moments before sharing them, so they can truly make a difference for others. What if not everything has to become a story? Some things might be meant to be lived quietly in our everyday lives. Or best shared first with close friends or family before telling the world.

I’ve been living through a story that I have wanted to share, but I knew I needed to keep it close for a while. As this past school year began, I felt a big change coming. My family is in a time of transition. Our boys are growing up, finishing high school, starting college, and becoming more independent. As I paid attention to these changes, I realized my time as Ms. Joy was coming to an end, and it was time for me to return to working full-time.

Since 2014, most people have known me as Ms. Joy, a preschool teacher, early childhood educator, and friend to little ones. But before I became Ms. Joy the teacher, I worked as a banking officer, managed operations and adults, and served as a director of human resources. Some might have called me a “boss lady.”

Teaching young children for the past 11 years has truly been a gift and my happy place. My little friends helped me find my creativity again, something I had put aside while working in business. Working with young kids has allowed me to balance my job and family. Every year, the children touched my heart and took a piece of it with them as they grew. Even if they forget my name, I hope they always remember how much they were loved.

All this to say that I will not be returning to teach my tiny human friends next school year.

This decision has not been made lightly or without grief. For months, I wrestled with this knowing, only shared with a few family members and close friends. Eventually, the circle expanded to those most impacted by my decision to step away from teaching. Before sharing publicly, I wanted to know not only that I am leaving a space but also where I am going. And yet, here I am, preparing to say goodbye, knowing it’s time to share this story out loud, still praying for the next door to open.

Pause to consider:

It’s tough to know something is ending, but you have no idea what comes next. You know it’s time to move on, but you’re not sure what your next step should be.

It’s difficult to put yourself out there again, leaving a place where you are known, where you have already proven yourself. Only to face application after application being met with a “thanks, but no thanks.” Rejection is hard on one’s self-confidence.

Can I be honest? It’s been really challenging holding this story close, waiting for the right time to share. And yet, I needed time to grieve what I was leaving behind. Others needed time to process and grieve this transition before the story was told out loud.

I’ve come to believe that change isn’t just about us, just as our story isn’t always our own. When we leave a place we’ve been for a while, we make space for someone else to step in. It turns out, my departure from early childhood opened up space to become the answer to someone else’s prayer.

Have you ever thought that your own changes might not be just about you?

Our willingness to listen to the changing winds, uproot ourselves, and open new doors might just impact others around us in positive ways.

So, what’s next? I wish I knew for sure what the next chapter of my story will be, but it’s still unfolding.

For now, I’ll keep writing as I focus on living my everyday stories and on waiting for the right time to share them. I truly believe that sharing our stories can change lives, because we’re better together in community. Still, I’m thinking about the difference between the stories we live and the stories we share.

Perhaps this is my season to listen more and talk less? To live smaller and ordinary days.

Thank you for walking with me as we navigate our stories, those held close and those shared out loud. I will always believe that life is better together and that stories matter; shared stories have the power to change lives.

What story are you currently living, holding close to your heart?

What stories are you ready to share out loud?

“So here’s what I want you to do, God helping you: Take your everyday, ordinary life—your sleeping, eating, going-to-work, and walking-around life—and place it before God as an offering.” Romans 12:1 (MSG)

While I wish we could sit with coffee or tea and ponder all these things together, that isn’t always possible. But I’d still love to connect and hear your thoughts.

A Prayer:

May we listen and adapt with the seasons as they change.

May we live fully present in our stories as they are being written.

May we be sensitive to how and when to share our stories out loud.

May the stories we share bring us together, because we are always better together.

A Word to Ponder: Hope

In April, I shared this quote to consider: “Hope is that beautiful place between the way things were and the way things are yet to be.” Author Unknown, and I’ve been pondering on this idea of hope.

Hope is often defined as a desire for certain things to happen, or as holding an expectation. In a spiritual context, our hope is hopefully rooted in God’s steadfast faithfulness. Yet while I know there is hope and hold its definition in my head, these days it can feel impossible to hold onto it in my heart and soul.

It is the challenge of holding two opposing realities together, grief and gratitude, or the harsh realities of life, alongside hope for tomorrow. These days, holding hope seems to also require a great deal of faith. Trusting that God’s ways are far better than we can dare to imagine. Believing that there is good and beauty to be found, helpers to be noticed, and love to be shared.

The amazing thing about hope is that it is not just one thing. And there is not just one way to hold it. Hope is a noun, and can simply be a feeling we have. But hope is also a verb, and can be an action we take.

So I find myself asking:

Am I passively holding a feeling of hope?

Or am I actively engaged in making hope a reality?

A Book For the Season: How to Walk into a Room: The Art of Knowing When to Stay and When to Walk Away by Emily P. Freeman

Originally, I was going to recommend Emily’s book, The Next Right Thing, about soulful decision making. And if you haven’t yet read that book and find yourself struggling to make decisions, I highly recommend it. However, when it comes to listening and knowing when to move with the changing winds, I feel like How to Walk into a Room is the story you need to read.

Emily P. Freeman is someone who lives the art of knowing when to hold stories close and when to share them out loud. She is thoughtful and intentional with her actions and words. She is a focused listener and a prayerful decision maker. How to Walk into a Room is a book about listening to your life, to the changing winds, and being brave enough to act on what you know to be the next right thing.

Fun Fact: I know Emily, not just as in I’ve met her, but know. My oldest and her youngest went to preschool together. I worked on staff at the church where her husband was the youth pastor. I watched her journey to becoming a published author and was excited to attend her first book signing for Grace for the Good Girl. We moved and no longer live close by, but I’ve watched Emily live and learn, balancing what to hold close and when to share her journey to inspire and encourage others. Her words are well-lived, thoughtful, and encouraging.

A Quote to Consider:

“Sometimes there is no story. Sometimes there is just our lives, carrying on without explanation or understanding, daily tasks mixed up with big decisions, milestones marked after the fact.”
Emily P Freeman,
How to Walk into a Room.