Writing My Story

A few years ago I felt the urge to write.  It seemed as though the Lord was telling me to write my story down; although, I had no clue how to start the process.  The last writing class I took was in 1992 or so when I was in college.  My friend knew my desire, or perhaps the Lord’s calling on my heart, to start writing so she bought me some journals.  I carried them everywhere and would write down different thoughts or words that sparked my memories or pertained to my history.  I even used my iPhone to record thoughts that came to me when writing was not possible.  Gotta love technology!

I had no idea as to where this project was going or if there was really anything important to say.  The fact is that everyone has a story.  All of us have a uniquely designed existence that is of no greater matter or significance than the other.  We are all significant in the eyes of the Lord.  I personally feel that the most inspiring stories are those told from people who come from the most humble situations.

As I started writing, it felt as though my heart and my mind were pricked.  Suddenly, there was this release of all of the captive moments, long forgotten thoughts, and stifled persuasions that I had carried around for nearly my entire life; or at least, my life after age eleven.  Words were pouring out of me that brought me to tears.

Soon, I turned to my computer to start writing.  I craved it.  Early mornings and late evenings were often accompanied by the patter of my fingertips on the keyboard as I delved into my solitary world of infertility.  I had to reach out to others during this time for feedback, their memories of my story, and just plain old support.  However, for the most part, it was me, my computer, my memories, and the Lord’s prodding.

I finished the manuscript within a few months.  Once I started writing, I could not stop until I got it all out.  I grieved for the child I was who became so ill.  I fretted for the teenager who, despite seeming and acting like every other teen girl, held within her dark glimpses of despair.  I felt the anger of a young woman in her twenties who was torn between wondering if her future career would be her “baby” or if she was ever going to have a baby to call her own.  I celebrated the woman who ran to the Lord after years of ignoring Him.  Lastly, I shed tears of joy for the foster-mother whose life was impacted for the better by the humbling refinement that is foster care and adoption.

I still have the manuscript on my computer.  I do not know where it is going or what it is supposed to be.  That is okay though.  There is great cleansing in writing one’s life story even if no one reads it.  Writing my story down has brought about a desire to continue to bring to life the words my heart feels but often my lips cannot form.  Writing my story has also revealed the incredible essence of survival, faith, mercy, grace, and hope.

I would like to share an excerpt from it if you don’t mind.  I have already inserted a few lines  from the manuscript from time to time into previous blog posts.  Even though this is just a glimpse, I welcome any comments.  I may share more as I feel the need…

I do not remember much about the week I was in the hospital prior to the doctors discovering what was ravaging my body.  My memories are more like flashing images from a movie.  I do however remember waking up at one point with my dad and a doctor looking over me.  My dad simply and courageously stated “You can always make love, but you will never be able to have children.”  Or, did he say that?  I remember hearing it, but not sure if it was said to me or about me.  Nevertheless, in my hazy mind, I tried to comprehend what he was saying.  Make love?  What does that mean?  I had not even kissed a boy yet.  Have children? It really had not crossed my mind much.  But, I heard him loud and clear.  I knew something big had happened.  This event that occurred forever changed who I was and the path my life would take.  There was not a choice – it was either my life or my organs.  Oh, the agony my parents were feeling.  What irony really…the organs with which life begins had nearly destroyed mine.  I was eleven years old, I had never had a period, and now I was forever infertile.  I had just been thrust in to the world of infertility.  Trapped in a little girl’s body was a pre-menopausal woman.

15 thoughts on “Writing My Story

  1. Dana K Ray

    That’s so cool!! I have about 6 manuscripts in my computer and 2 more in the works. I’m praying about putting one out there. 🙂 I’ve recently let a few people read it. Mine are fiction with my life experiences in there. God will continue to bless you and your writing, He wouldn’t have given you the deep desire if He wasn’t going to do something huge with it! Which, by the way, He is doing that now with your blog!!! I always told people, if nothing else, writing is amazing therapy!


  2. Victoria

    I’m glad you found writing. I like the idea of having words out there. Even though your experiences are uniquely yours there may be someone out there who may see them selves in a part of the work. They may be comforted, or get some answers.

    You follow my blog, so you may know that every Thursday I have a shout out day. You and your blog have been chosen for today’s shout out. The link is below. Keep writing 🙂



  3. learningmypathtowardsgod

    I love your blog and looking forward to more from your story, good beginning and can’t imagine facing what you had to face as a child that effected your adulthood. Thankfully the Lord saved you and you are there for the kids that needed a mommy.


  4. transformedbythejourney

    Have similiar awareness of a story inside longing to come out… Stifled but not knowing the starting place. Blogging is the cure inbetween vision and fruition. I can relate to the need to write as well as something not flowing until I sit down and purpose to write. I love this blogging community that I have been led to that bravely shares their stories and spiritual journeys so authentically.


    1. barrentoblessed

      It is quite remarkable to read the journeys of other people just trying to take a stand with their faith in this world. It is humbling, and for me, it gives me a greater sense of a community of believers around the world. Thank you for reading and for your comment.


  5. karmavore

    Wow. What a story. I cannot fathom how painful that must have been. I’m truly stunned at your grace. I think many, many women would take heart from hearing your story.


    1. barrentoblessed

      Thank you. It took me many years to “put all the pieces together” of what happened. I give credit to God for revealing moments that have helped me heal, grow, and get to this place where I want to tell my story. This is something I never visioned myself doing. Thanks for the encouragement and for taking the time to read!


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