After a recent episode, the kids wrote in response, and I’m a stickler for writing with them so my co-teacher and I wrote as well. The theme had involved looking at where one wanted to be in ten years and making a plan to get there. I always kind of cringe over those types of questions because, honestly, I don’t know the answer. And we expect teenagers to know this?
On this day, however, I was writing, and in the course of that, I wrote about having writing restored to me after a long hiatus. I looked up at my co-teacher, who knows the story of that bomb going off in my life, and I said, “It’s been more than five years. How can that be?”
I don’t know how to explain it, but there was something so healing about being in that sunlit classroom, surrounded by amazing kids who were steadily writing about their futures, and realizing that I was out of the dark. See, those years were dark, and all I could really do was put one foot in front of the other and believe at some point I’d come out on the other side. Not only was I writing again, but somewhere along the way, I’d come out of the shadows. I’d been so used to them that I hadn’t even realized they were gone.
So, yeah, it’s been more than five years and I still don’t have a clue what life might look like in ten years. But you know what? That’s okay. I don’t have to know that today because I don’t have to live in tomorrow and I don’t have to live in the past.
I get to do today, and today is pretty darn amazing.
On the way to work this week, I’ve heard this Danny Gokey song twice, and I cry each time, although the tears are more thankful than sad. The song conveys many of the themes incorporated in my three 2016 releases, Gone From Me, All I Need, and Where We Begin.
It’s five years later. I’m writing once more. And my heart is beating again.