I met a man at church who told me about a motorcycle accident, fractured kneecaps, a fractured elbow, and a broken neck. He was homeless, and these injuries inhibited him from working.
I think he told me these things because they are a core part of his identity.
I have been hurt terribly in the past. And I had a traumatic childhood. I have lately been wrestling with deciding whether or not to write that story. This potential memoir would help communicate my childhood to my own children and maybe help them understand why I have the priorities I have and why I believe what I do.
But the more I think about it, the less certain I am that I should write this. It has been over 16 years since I converted to Christianity. I do not feel near to the person I was 16 years ago. My identity is rooted in who I am today, not who I was back then.
And I often ask myself, “Does this story really need told?” Will it actually help people? I’m not so sure it would.