This is a beginning. Not of a new story, but of a continuing story that I have found is my own. With this unexpected, yet seemingly long anticipated turn of page I have been startled to find myself as the one holding the pen. The transition is one from mere lover of words to that of writer and author. What is more astounding is to find that the tale I am to tell is my own--oh, that it were fiction! Will I be able to tell it accurately--for who can see themselves as they really are? Will I portray myself as better or braver than I actually am? Will I villainize those who have hurt and betrayed me? And perhaps the question I ask myself above all others is, how will it end? As the admirable Buechner posed, will it be comedy, tragedy, or fairy tale?
Undoubtably life is a mixture of all three. Chesterton said that if we could reawaken ourselves to the world around us it would be fairy tale. And so I seek to rouse myself to the mysterious, mythic, and often unimaginable story that is my life. I wish to tell it as it was lived; full of hope, trepidation, and wonder.
