After a decade of working to write a memoir about how God changed our lives through our daughter, Ruth, it seemed that I had come to the end of everything. I had already done everything in my power to see it published and could do no more. My best efforts to find a publisher who shared my family’s vision of helping other children through Ruth’s story had failed. Miserably.
Last week I realized with sadness that it was finally time to throw away a favorite mug. “Pause if you must,” said the bold black words beneath the badly cracked rim, “but don’t stop believing.” That mug – a gift to myself three years ago – had gotten me through the not-so-best and worst of times, always by my side.
Why bother writing at all? The vulnerability and risk and effort felt like too much, especially with Mom no longer here to encourage me. I wanted to quit, to turn in my author badge and raise chickens or maybe grow tomatoes—something with a more predictable harvest. Have you ever felt like that? Like nothing you do really matters?