I’ve just read This Is Not the Story You Think It Is... and loved it.
Not every last instant. There were moments where it was a little preachy, a little eye-rolling. There were moments where I couldn’t help wondering if I was seeing the patchwork that might be what happens when you write a memoir but keep a few bits out.
But still, it’s amazing – maybe even because of those squirmy moments. They might make you remember that it’s not just a story. It really happened to somebody.
“I have a friend who says that he goes to church because something always happens. I take a walk in the woods at dusk for the same reason.”
I completely love that way of describing that.
There are a few places in my world where something always happens. Church is one for me too. Tae kwon do is another. Running is a third.
These are the places that I might not always have the time or the inclination or the energy or the desire or the self-confidence to want to go. But every single time that I manage to drag myself to each of those places against all of that – every single solitary time – I am never, ever sorry. Because something always happens. Always.
What are your places where something always happens?