What’s one thing you own that holds deep sentimental value?
My late father’s Bible. His favorite book, filled with sentimental bookmarks and his handwritten notes, has become my favorite book, too.
Funny how life is. There was a time when a Bible seemed like the last thing I wanted to read. But now, my father’s written insights are enlightening. I am following his path.
In reference to heaven, he wrote:
“What we will be doing, what we will look like, what our homes will look like, we do not know exactly. The Bible does not detail.”
Another interesting fact is that my father specifically wrote notes in reference to women in his Bible.
“Her marriage, behavior, character, family life, and spiritual life.”
He also wrote, “We offer tribute and seek to honor her.”
Right there is where he placed a bookmark I gave him when I was five years old. On the back of that bookmark, he wrote:
“Live every day like it was the last.”
And:
“Attitude – I am not doing that! Truth is usually in the minority.”
- ●
These last two weeks, it’s been a struggle of sorts with what is true for me. The question of what is mine to do also keeps surfacing.
I recently received a medical and forensic report containing clinical documentation and personal accounts relating to an experience that profoundly affected my life.
I am also participating in a healthy relationships class. The experience has given me opportunities to reflect on my past and consider what I want for my future.
Reading the 40-page forensic file brought me back to a period of my life that I have spent considerable time trying to understand. For a long time, I’ve second-guessed myself, my experiences, and even my recollections.
Sometimes, having something documented doesn’t change what happened. It changes how we understand what happened.
For me, reading those records was a reminder that my experiences deserve to be taken seriously, including by me.
It also brought up some difficult questions.
What do we do when our experiences don’t align with someone else’s version of events?
How do we reconcile what we remember with what others tell us happened?
How much energy should we spend trying to convince someone else of something we have struggled to understand ourselves?
And perhaps most importantly, when is it time to start trusting our own ability to both move forward and speak freely?
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I’ve been considering what moving forward is and what accountability, healing, and justice actually mean.
I don’t know where those conversations will lead.
I do know that asking questions is worthwhile. Seeking information is worthwhile. And acknowledging difficult experiences, even when doing so is uncomfortable, is worthwhile.
There are things in life we cannot go back and change. There are also things we don’t have to continue carrying.
I’m learning to distinguish between the two.
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People who care about me have encouraged me to prioritize my well-being. They also support my writing.
In this writing thing I do, I want to live as though I am truly free.
Not simply exist, manage circumstances, or spend my days anticipating what might happen next.
I want to create, write, paint, laugh, explore, and experience the world beyond the chapters I’ve already lived.
I want to live every day as if it were my last.
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Perhaps that’s what my father’s words mean to me now.
Truth isn’t always popular. It isn’t always understood. Sometimes it takes years, reflection, distance, and a little courage to recognize it for ourselves.
And perhaps the question isn’t whether everyone will agree with our version of the story.
We are allowed to write about healing without turning every paragraph into a defense of our credibility.
Perhaps the question is whether we’re willing to keep writing it.
My answer? Yes.
Absolutely.
•
Signed,
Stephanie Bird
Birdanity
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