“Sorrow will seek you. Reaching out its infuriated claws, it will hunt you down with the famished hunger of an angry lion. As human beings, we never allow ourselves to seek the depths of affliction, but even when we hide from it, run from it, at some point in our life it will capture us, binding our brokenness within its chains. Bathing yourself in bitter tears feeds its filthy soul. Heartache will one day acquire you. And when the darkness clenches the breath from your lungs, it’s you who ultimately chooses whether or not it devours you fully…or simply gives you a legitimate reason to survive.” – Excerpt of “A Cradle of Hope” by Valerie King
I’ve joined hands with an amazing movement. The movement of #killingmonsters. Gaining control of our lives, while overcoming the darkness of disappointment, self-doubt, hate, hurt, and disobedience that we all encounter at some time or another.
I have a monster. Not a monster who lives under my bed and taunts my fears, but one that rattles my belief in achieving a dream. A dream that I know has been God given, but even so, that I often find myself questioning more often than not. Let me back up a bit…
“I am an old soul in a young body.”
My father always used to say this about me. It’s true. I chose marriage over college at the ripe old age of twenty. I married a man who is older than I am, but who owns my heart and everlasting love. He is my better half, my best friend…my everything. A year after we were married, New Year’s Eve 1999 to be exact, I saw those two pink little lines. Those two little lines that cause an ugly cry and a “down on your knees” prayer of thankfulness…grace…LOVE. Eight weeks after that, I gazed at the sonogram machine. Two heartbeats greeted me. Not one. TWO. Tears found me once more. I was going to be a mother. He was going to be a father. To twins.
Fast forward…10 years later, and a third son that looks so very much like his handsome father, I found myself.
I have always known WHO I was. Or so I thought. Until the voices began to speak, radiating from my mind, and floating effortlessly onto the keys of my computer. I had words to share. Not by mouth, but by fingertips. And I followed.
He answered me over dinner one night. My Father spoke to me, and the voices in my head came to life, bringing me to where I am today. Our life is not our own. Especially when you have a husband, and when children cling to your hand. You are filling a roll, a void that many may not ever experience in life. I was given the roll of wife and mother at a very young age. I am extremely grateful for that, but God wanted more from me. He whispered his wants in my ear, and I followed.
I have always had a love for writing. Yet I always pushed it aside. Time. There wasn’t enough of it. And honestly, I never thought I was good enough.
My husband has always been very supportive of my dreams in life. When I raised the question of writing my first book, and whether or not to make that dream that I had kept hidden for so long a reality, he immediately said YES. That was all it took. God’s prompting to follow a dream, and my husband’s relentless support and belief that I did hold a gift, not just a hobby. That I could move the world with the voices that spoke to me so often in my mind.
The day after my life-altering talk with my husband, I started my first novel. Less than six months later, I was finished. “The Gift of Fate” was born, the very first book in the Fatum Saga, brought to life. The very first time I held my book in my hands, I wept. Not because I was pleased with myself, but because God told me to do it, and I did it. I was working part-time, homeschooling my three boys and running a busy household. But despite my crazy life, I listened to the voices in my head, I followed His lead, and because of it, I published my very first novel on February 29th, 2012. Leap Day of all days. A moment in time that I will NEVER forget.
Since then, I have published two more books, and just recently finished my fourth. My wish is to find a publisher. To see my book on the shelves of Barnes and Nobles, to attend book signings and meet my fans. To thank those that have been so supportive to me up to this point and then some. But finding a publisher is very difficult. Time consuming, expensive, exhausting.
The monsters started to speak. The hum of their voices rising over the character voices, thoughts, ideas that normally rumble through my mind on a daily basis. They spoke hateful things. Hurtful things.
“You’ll never reach your goal. You simply aren’t good enough. There is bigger and better talent in the writing world.”
I began to believe these things. The wound opened. I let my emotions take over, allowing the tears to fall as I told my husband that perhaps trying to find a publisher wasn’t worth it anymore. Maybe writing really isn’t for me. I’ll never make it.
I’ll never forget the look on his face, and the words that washed over me as he spoke softly, “No. You will regret it. You don’t want to live with that regret, Val. You are too good of a writer to walk away. I won’t let you. There I said it. I WON’T LET YOU QUIT.”
The monsters were immediately silenced, pushed aside. I have a purpose in this world. To write. To share my words with others. For madness overtakes me when I can’t write. He has gifted me with this madness. Yet it is a beautiful madness of unquenchable thirst. One that will never die, for He has given this thirst for His glory.
As life travels forth, I know the whispers from those monsters will rise again. Yet with faith, I must allow the melody of His majestic words find me again. To remind me that I write because He wants me to. For if I didn’t, I would allow the monsters to win. And they don’t deserve to, nor will they ever.
I pour out my thoughts for Him, and Him alone.
Deuteronomy 28:12 – The Lord shall open unto thee His good treasure, the heaven to give the rain unto thy land in his season, and to bless all the work of thine hand: and thou shalt lend unto many nations, and thou shalt not borrow.