“I think I wrote a book”, I hesitantly shared with my mom.

The night before, I was watching my two young children play together, and I was flooded with memories of my brother and me playing together as kids. It was just the two of us, and because we were so close in age, we often played together. I thought about the little games we played or deals we made with each other, wondering if my kids would do the same. My kids were very young at the time, but as I watched my oldest run into the kitchen to get her younger brother an ice pack for his “boo boo”, I was brought to tears.

Two months earlier, my brother had died by suicide. The trauma of his death was still so new and raw, and I was looking at the world a little differently, as tragedy often causes us to do. Watching my kids play together, something that I probably wouldn’t have thought much about before, was now a reminder of what I lost when my brother died. We would no longer get the opportunity to make new memories together, which caused me to hold on to the memories we did have, tightly.

As I sat there on the floor of my daughter’s room, words started to circle in my head. I grabbed a notebook and started jotting all of them down. I should tell you that I’ve always kind of dabbled with poem writing, making cutesy little rhymes, so the fact that words were swirling around in my head, really isn’t surprising.

The words flowed effortlessly, and before I knew it, it was done. Sometimes you hear stories of artists who sit down to write a song and the words come out so freely and beautifully that it only takes them ten minutes. This was how it happened for me. Except it might have taken twenty minutes

At the time, I didn’t know what it would be, and I certainly didn’t think it would actually be published. I just knew I had to share it with my mom, because I knew she would appreciate reliving some of those memories, too. At the time, she was an eighth-grade teacher who happened to have a very talented artist in her class. Lydia, at only 14, drew beautifully, and when my mom approached her to possibly illustrate the book, she said yes.

The illustration process took over a year. Lydia broke her wrist in the middle of the process, which slowed down her production, but her illustrations were worth the wait. I loved her interpretation of the story. Her attention to detail in the images is evident, and I really appreciated the way she illustrated the brother and the sister in the book, growing up together. The first images of the book show young siblings, and at the end of the story, you see them older and still friends. The book is so special, and she made the words come to life in a way I didn’t even know was possible.

I didn’t seek traditional publishing with this title because I knew I wanted to publish it, regardless of whether or not it was widely accepted as children’s literature gold. It was important for our family after losing John, so I wanted to make it happen. After doing some research, I found a self-publisher that would take my title, and so began the publishing process.

I had the words and I had the images, but I had to get them married, which meant I needed a designer. My friend Jennifer was working with digital prints and card design at the time, so I went to her for help. She had to follow the design guidelines for printing to make sure the title would be accepted. I know virtually nothing about this world, so she chose fonts, text placement, and image fading to make the book what it is today. This project highlighted the attributes of the body of Christ and the way we’re all gifted differently, but all doing this life together. I am so grateful to Lydia and Jennifer for using their gifts to bring the book together. I am certain it is far better because of their input and design.

The publishing process took two years. It was when that first box of books came to the house that I realized I had to actually start talking about it, if I wanted to sell all those books I had purchased. I hadn’t told many people that the whole process was happening, so when I shared that Instagram post announcing the book was published, I was terrified. I still am most of the time!

In the year that followed the release of the book, I heard stories of reconciliation, of siblings helping each other clean their rooms, or simply fighting less, remembering what a gift it is to have each other. Sharing the book also allowed me to talk to others about suicide and grief, which helped me in my own.

I began to see firsthand how purpose can come out of pain.

Perhaps your story doesn’t involve a book; maybe for you, it’s sharing your story with someone over coffee or volunteering with a ministry or an organization that allows you to help others who may be walking a similar road.

Be brave. I know you can do it. It will be scary and maybe messy, but for sure beautiful.

You have no idea how God will use your story to bless others, but I already know He will. It will be far better than you can imagine.