It was with you, my family, my close friends, my childhood friends, all of whom are a part of my story; when we were younger and life was less complex, before life overtook us and told us who we were, when we were known by our first names, not by our mistakes, when we knew ourselves by our childlike wonderment and not by the baggage we collected along the way. Oh, the stories we could tell.
Write your story down, then share it, or write it down and burn it. Or don't write it down at all. Just tell it. Tell it to yourself. Out loud. In a closet. At the beach. Tell it to your best friend. An old enemy. Have a story telling sleepover. Tell it around a fire pit. Or on a hunting trip. Start with the best part. Start with the worst part. But just tell it. Those who hear your story will be moved by your joy and laughter, your heartbreak and tears, your brokenness and restoration, and your love. Mostly by your love. For you see, we each have a story, our own story, unique to us but recognizable by all.