It’s still so very surreal. One week from today my very first novel will release. Unless you’re a writer, you won’t understand the years, months, weeks, days, hours, minutes that have gone into this endeavor. The expectations, the disappointments, the picking up and starting over again. The desire to succeed coupled with the fear of failure. Hope deferred, only to be re-gifted.
But perhaps even more noteworthy, is that on the very same day this book releases, my husband and I will celebrate our 57th wedding anniversary. These years, too, have morphed into months, weeks, days hours and minutes. We’ve had expectations and disappointments. We’ve known joy beyond anything we could have imagined, and grief deeper than we knew could ever exist. We’ve had to redefine success, set new goals, give up dreams, and had dreams become true. We’ve birthed and lost, and both have their own kind of pain. We’ve sown, and we’ve reaped. We’ve hoped and we’ve despaired. We’ve grown weary, and we’ve had strength renewed over.
And through it all, even when we cried and doubted and laughed and celebrated, the one constant has been our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. All glory is His. The novel. The anniversary. It’s all Him.
Oh, that I might never, ever forget or take for granted all that He has done. Nor doubt what he is able to do.