All along, through every fire, a little bit of beauty for ashes became.
🤎
🤎
All along, through every fire we go through, a little bit of beauty for ashes becomes.
🤎
Part 59:
For weeks now, I’ve been rereading my older stories.
Especially the ones where I promised I would continue telling the story that began when I was fourteen years old.
Somewhere along the way, I stopped telling the story.
Not because I ran out of stories.
And not because I stopped caring.
Life became a long season of survival.
For years I lived in an environment that slowly chipped away at my voice. Not all at once. Just little by little, year after year.
I still wrote occasionally. I still shared pieces of my heart.
But the girl who once told her story so freely grew quieter and quieter.
Looking back now, I realize the stories never left me.
The voice never truly left me either.
It was simply waiting for me to find my way back to it.
But reading these older posts, I found myself missing the voice that shared those stories.
Not because she had life figured out.
But because she was honest.
Hopeful.
Broken.
Healing.
And deeply aware of God’s grace.
As I reread these stories, I realized something else too.
All along, through every fire, every heartbreak, every failure, every prayer… a little bit of beauty for ashes became.
So I think it’s time.
Time to return to the stories I left unfinished.
Time to continue where I said I would.
Time to run back to that fourteen-year-old girl and pick the story back up from there.
Not because the fire is over.
But because God has been in every part of it.
And maybe someone else walking through fire needs to know that too.
After all these years, I think my voice is finally coming home to itself.
I pray you find yourself in a healing path.
🤎
Explore More Art and Stories
About Pam Herrick
The Girl Who Chased Horses
(Part of Ongoing Book)
Gallery
🤎
Watch this Lion of Judah video with the song singing
every day of my life, I will run to You!
Part 59:
For weeks now, I’ve been rereading my older stories.
Especially the ones where I promised I would continue telling the story that began when I was fourteen years old.
Somewhere along the way, I stopped telling the story.
Not because I ran out of stories.
And not because I stopped caring.
Life became a long season of survival.
For years I lived in an environment that slowly chipped away at my voice. Not all at once. Just little by little, year after year.
I still wrote occasionally. I still shared pieces of my heart.
But the girl who once told her story so freely grew quieter and quieter.
Looking back now, I realize the stories never left me.
The voice never truly left me either.
It was simply waiting for me to find my way back to it.
But reading these older posts, I found myself missing the voice that shared those stories.
Not because she had life figured out.
But because she was honest.
Hopeful.
Broken.
Healing.
And deeply aware of God’s grace.
As I reread these stories, I realized something else too.
All along, through every fire, every heartbreak, every failure, every prayer… a little bit of beauty for ashes became.
So I think it’s time.
Time to return to the stories I left unfinished.
Time to continue where I said I would.
Time to run back to that fourteen-year-old girl and pick the story back up from there.
Not because the fire is over.
But because God has been in every part of it.
And maybe someone else walking through fire needs to know that too.
After all these years, I think my voice is finally coming home to itself.
I pray you find yourself in a healing path.
🤎
Explore More Art and Stories
About Pam Herrick
The Girl Who Chased Horses
(Part of Ongoing Book)
Gallery
🤎
Watch this Lion of Judah video with the song singing
every day of my life, I will run to You!
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