Courage

Courage and beginnings go hand in hand.

Three years ago, almost to the day, I began a journey, and I knew it was going to take a bit to get there.

According to the dictionary, the definition of a memoir is: a historical account or biography written from personal knowledge.

The trouble with writing a memoir about child loss is that part about personal knowledge.

I knew what I had been through, and I knew that it was a big task to go back there, to stir the pot, to poke around in things past. I was not prepared for the intensity, nor the vividness of the memories. I emerged from my writing room one day, after recounting the details of her funeral, and lamented to my beloved, “I feel as if I have just been back there”.

Had I not had a cheer squad, an entourage of encouragers, I might never have got the job done. Wrapped in ‘encouragement’, added neatly after the ‘n’ is the word courage. My cheer squad made me brave. They told me I could do it. They cried with me. They assured me I had done well. They picked up the pieces. They helped me begin. And they were there for the long haul.

I am on the brink of another new beginning. Of releasing my work – my story – to whoever should choose to read it. All of this is new but exciting and more than a little terrifying. But my encouragers continue to cheer, and I stand on the knowledge that bravery only happens if you’re doing it scared.

And I know that He goes before me.

I look behind me and you’re there, then up ahead and you’re there, too— your reassuring presence, coming and going. Psalm 139:5 The Message