If you would browse my stack of old, worn-out, messed-up-to-the-last-page journals, you’ll see how plenty of check boxes I’ve drawn in there with the words “write and publish a book” beside them.
Month after month, year after year, I would write on the last page of my diary and get a new one. But those check boxes would remain un-ticked save for that one I drew in 2017. That was the last.
I remember how I, at last, felt ready and had a clear plan for the book. It was quite easy because I wanted it to be a memoir and I had my journal on hand for its outline. Recalling it, I can see myself praying many times, squeezing my eyes, before spreading my fingers on the keyboard. I was begging God for grace, for anointing – for everything I thought I should ask Him, actually – because I knew well how it won’t be as beautiful if it was just me. My prayers finished with deep breaths and a loud exhale that said, “OK. Game, Lord.”
I realized that the words were already in my heart. I needed not to find them anywhere. I felt every word, shed tears, laughed. I went through the story (again) myself while I was dribbling the letter keys. It was an awesome experience. Daunting yet liberating. Terribly painful and mending at the same time.
Finding You: a memoir on dreams, detours and destiny was published in 2017; hence, the last check box. It sits in bookshelves today. Perhaps, others are in somebody’s desk, drawer, or bag. And testimonies affirm that God is where Finding You is.
I think I’m writing this because things have changed after that and today, I want to remember how it was. I should go back to that memory – to the feeling of knowing what I want, of working on what I want with perseverance, and of desiring it persistently. I must remember how when I got there, God was there too.
Today, I should go back there.
P.S: Brewing an ebook, lately. It’s with the layout artist. Finishes after a couple of sunsets. 😀