The one in which I die.

I think what I’m about to embark on will be huge but not in the sense that I always thought it would. And I’m starting to realize the gift in that.

The younger me (let’s call her “Little Ericka” for funsies) would spend hours in front of the mirror, pretending to sit on Oprah’s white couch as she deprecatingly answered all of O’s questions about how she was able to publish fourteen million books and marry Prince William at the ripe old age of sixteen.

Delusions of grandeur. I’m afraid to look that phrase up in the dictionary lest I see somebody I used to know.

Nowadays? I’m dying. I don’t mean that literally (although technically, we’re all doing that, some just slower than others). What I mean is that I’m suffocating the illusion I always had in the back of my brain of who I was “supposed” to be. Or maybe I should say “disillusionment.” I am no more that naive little girl who thought blinking would produce a multi-million dollar book deal.

Let’s just say, I’m sitting here because it definitely didn’t.

Who I am is no longer wrought by my own hands. Instead? I’ve given me to Jesus. (And yeah, considering I was an atheist five mere years ago, I get how weird that will sound to a lot of you). But I’ve given everything I am over to my Creator, and I’m patiently waiting as He reveals the me I shall become.

You know that phrase “it’s all in the journey”? They’re not lying about that. It’s not about the goal itself or achieving it or the way your heart beats to break your ribs when you’ve accomplished the unimaginable. It’s about perservering as God molds you into the perfect version of you for HIS glory.

Not yours. Certainly not mine.

It’s about Him. It’s why I created this imprint. I want to be the vessel He uses to bring others (and myself) closer to Him.

I’ve never met Oprah. I most likely never will.

But I’ve met an incredible Father who keeps opening doors and windows for my willing little heart. And really? That’s all that matters anymore.

Get Wordy

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