Open Book.

TJ11 "So will My word be which goes forth from My mouth; It will not return to Me empty, Without accomplishing what I desire, And without succeeding in the matter for which I sent it." Isaiah 55:11

The first book I ever read by myself was called "Itchy Itchy Chicken Pox".  It was one of those books that only had a few words on each page. It was a book where all the words had the same root; itchy, twitchy, yucky, mucky. I read it so many times I could have recited it to you verbatim. The book was about Chicken Pox for goodness sakes, and yet I read it like it was the most amazing thing I had ever heard. I was proud. And with that pride came a feeling of endless possibility. If I could read these words, on this page, perhaps I could read anything. 

Everyone say a quick prayer that when your kids learn to read they will pick a more entertaining story, but for my parents, Itchy Itchy Chicken Pox was their daughters pride and joy.

I instantly wanted to share this new found gift with everyone I met. I mean everyone. If you had ears, or eyes, you were instantly my audience. I was so excited I could read I wanted everyone to be a part of my joy. I wanted to share what I had with every person I met. And I wanted them to be as excited as I was too. I do not know many people that could be excited about chicken pox...but I do know God made me that girl, and I was ecstatic. 

When I was in the first grade, I caught the chicken pox. It was my first year at school full time and of course, among first graders, things can spread fast. My mom, being the mother of four she was, figured why not just get all her kiddos through it at the same time. So, my lovely personal battle with those itchy suckers became a family battle. All four of us got the Chicken Pox in the same week, including my newborn baby brother. As I laid in the pooh bear sleeping bag on the couch, I was so evidently already being formed into the open book I am today; what's mine is yours and yours is mine. 

My life has always kind of been like a dinner at Buca di Beppo; it's family style. We share it all. The ups, the downs, highs and lows. You want me in your life, you get all of me. 

I think there is something so beautiful and irreplaceable in a love like that. A love that takes on chicken pox, and broken hearts, and celebrations full force ahead as a team. But as I grow, I've come to know, not everyone lives their lives that way. I battled so long to wonder why. I questioned my own means of love. I questioned others' love for me. And then I realized, not everyone grew up in the open book that was my life. Not everyone feels the need to share their personal encounters with the whole world. And that's perfectly ok. 

The day I learned to read, I was so excited I wanted everyone to know. I'm still like that on most days. I want all the good and bad in my life to radiate the glory of God, and I share it. But just because that's the way I know how to love best,  doesn't mean it's the best way to love. I've discovered that sometimes it's ok to keep things just between me and God. Sometimes I don't have to share every single last detail in the story. And I have to accept the fact that I do not get to hear the whole story someone else is reading either. In time, I will get to hear the chapters and words I'm meant to hear, but for now, reading what is in front of me is more than enough. 

My life will always be an open book, it's who I am, but some words on the page were meant just for me, and I'm working on keeping those beautiful messages for my own heart. Love is varied, and sometimes letting those words resound in me, is the way God gives me the strength and courage and passion to keep reading the story to others. 

Whatever story is in your heart, it's yours. Share it when you are meant to, but know that pages and moments can be yours alone too. You could conquer chicken pox, and rainy days, and grand adventures just you and God, and sometimes you will, but sometimes the best part of a good book is being able to share it with someone you love.