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Happy October, and welcome to my very first Facebook Live video!
It's all about the power of sharing our story. We all have a story, right? Every person I meet has overcome at least one major setback in life, and has courageously made it through to the other side. I encourage you to give some thought to how your experience of overcoming setback changed your life. What did you learn? How did you make meaning from it? How might your experience benefit others? It's time to own your story. We live in crazy times, and I personally believe that beaming our light more brightly is needed now. There are so many things you can do as an outgrowth of your personal experience: write a book, build a business, create a piece of art, or simply acknowledge your journey and offer encouragement to someone who needs it. Can you trust your calling 5% more than you listen to your fear? SPECIAL ANNOUNCEMENT: October 15 is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day. In honor of this, I am offering the Kindle version of my book, What I Gave to the Fire, for free this month. If you or someone you know has experienced pregnancy loss, I wrote this book for you. There's a link in the side bar. So go forth and download your free copy. And please feel free to spread the word! I’ve made it my life’s work to help people flesh out their transformative stories so they can thrive and help others do the same. Find out more about that here.  This poem comes from chapter 13 from my book, What I Gave to the Fire. Today, I dedicate it to all women who have experienced pregnancy loss. From my heart to yours on Mother's Day. Was that rainbow for me?
You both were with us so briefly. I knew your physical existence only through feelings of nausea and a positive pregnancy test. I felt your soul’s existence through feelings of uncertainty, mixed with love, hope, and excitement. I lost the first of you in December 2001 There was turmoil all around our country And maybe you decided it wasn’t a good time to come into the world. I was so sad to lose you. I drove my car on Brown County roads Looking for answers, Feeling so hurt. Your lessons for me came slowly. You taught me that I am human And human things can happen to me, too. You taught me that it’s okay to be mad at God And to not like everything that happens here on earth. I lost the second of you in October 2004 On the evening of your father’s birthday With intense, long-lasting labor pains that produced no baby to hold. You got my attention. I saw a pattern here. What am I supposed to learn from this? Why did this happen again? Your lessons for me came slowly, too. You taught me how to create something out of my despair. To look inside myself for answers, To seek understanding about my relationship with God, and how, out of my emptiness, I can create something tangible by writing my story. The story is teaching me to honor my own life as I honor yours. To share my experience with others, To know that I am not alone, To believe in things I cannot see. I had thoughts of you this evening While driving home on rain-slicked streets. For the first time I experienced you separately from my grief And that’s when I looked up at the sky and saw a small piece of rainbow. Was that rainbow for me? |
Kim Evans,
Author and Branding Consultant I am passionate about helping mission-centered business owners share their message through compelling written and visual content. SUBSCRIBE
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Photos used under Creative Commons from Giuseppe Milo (www.pixael.com), jphotographie64, fabioomero
