Where do I begin?
How do I begin?
It feels like the skeletons in my closet have been there so long only the garden could possibly be more out of reach.
These are my stories, carefully placed in a box to keep away from prying eyes, kept secret because if you knew them you would surely hate me.
You cannot expect me to just blurt them out now after all these years of guarding them so closely.
But I know keeping them is hurting me more than helping me, whispering lies in my head about how much you won’t want to know me if you really knew who I was.
This is my giant. This is the Lord’s battle. The giant has to be slain, has to fall.
And I have to begin somewhere.
Linking with Lisa Jo Baker 4 five minute friday.