You might say it’s not worth the paper, what I’m going to write today.

I used to think so too.

But somewhere in the process of becoming a writer and an adult, I changed my mind.  Maybe by the end of these few words, you will too.  Maybe you’ll also fling wide your heart to living the life that you are called to live? That’s my simple wish today.

You see, today started out so simple.

Coffee, blurred vision, just me stumbling into the kitchen trying to convince myself that this day is a “Good-morning, Lord” day and not a “Good Lord, it’s morning” type of day.

The coffee maker is still sputtering, even though I thought I had set the timer on it to start brewing a whole 30 minutes ago.  Not more than a swallow or two has dripped its way into the pot.

“Good Lord, it’s morning.” 

I say it.

But the sun still rises over this little Iowa town and His blessings are new anyway, even though someone in the gray-toned house off of Main Street didn’t start the day properly.

The day, like a pendulum, swings forward. And as the clock dings each hour, the tune is a little more optimistic than the hour before.

Pumpkins are everywhere. 

Fall is in the air and my step quickens because I have my lab coat on and my stethoscope is tucked in my bag and I’m entering the hospital again, where it feels like I’m coming home after a summer of being away.

Antiseptic smell, shiny floors, and a piano reaches long for a high note in the main foyer.

A man in a wheelchair is pushed past and I stop a moment, breathe deep.

Here, there is purpose.  Here, I have worth.  Here, I am who I was meant to be; who God called me to be.

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Sometime on the drive home from the hospital, I get the urge to go barefoot so I set my car on cruise and slip out of my shoes at 75 MPH.

I wiggle my toes like a newborn experiencing the world and I fall in love with the way the accelerator feels against my bare feet.

It seems so weird, now, me telling you this, but honestly, it was worth it in that moment.  

And that brings me to the point I’m trying to make.

As writers, we write and write.  We waste thousands of words conjuring emotions hopefully our readers will be able to connect to.  We edit our lives, our thoughts, our actions.

We want to make our story worthy. 

As Christ-followers, we do the same.

But maybe we’ve got it all wrong.

Maybe instead of looking for our story, maybe we should just start living the story we were given.  Instead of writing our own story, could it be so simple instead to start living the one hand-written by the Author above? 

Yes, even the insignificant coffee maker has a place.  And the piano in the foyer of a hospital.

And the bare toes… just finding their way Home.  

That’s what this new column is all about.  Just living the story.  The stories will be written by Sarah Salter, Lori Heyd, Keviana Elliot, and Shelly Miller.  They all live widely different lifestyles and I can’t wait to introduce their stories to you.  And I’ll be writing, of course.  By the way, I’m Duane Scott, if you didn’t know.  We’d love for you to subscribe to the Living the Story column by clicking here.  Just one post a week, every Friday. 


what living the story really means

by Duane Scott time to read: 3 min
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