I've had that word bouncing around in my head for months.
Whether it's how Russ and I met, got engaged, taught several years, maneuvered Eliot's international adoption, experienced foster care, started businesses, started bands, experienced the rise and fall of domestic adoption or the constant awkward interactions with people in public, there's always a story being told. There's always a story to choose.
Lisa and I were talking about the fact that the kids in their freshman year of college are exactly half a lifetime younger than us. It got me thinking about 18year old Katie.
18 year old me was shocked at herself for leaving the comfort of home to go away to college. 18 year old me was full of entitlement, uncertainty and a whole lot of fear. I didn't even want to cut my hair. All my "what if"s led to my demise.
At 36, my world is full of "what if's" but they all lead to some pretty exciting results. Maybe. Maybe not. The last 18 years have been hard but they've shaped who I am at 36. They are my story.
And if you haven't read my post over on Wynnes blog and you still don't get why I would put this word on my body for the rest of my life, head over there now. It's linked here.
I know our story isn't done. I know there are going to be hard roads ahead and seasons that will be more simple. For now, in this moment, I'm thankful for my story.