A Salty Story

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The question was posed over and over and over again, this past weekend.

“What’s your story?”

The carefully crafted one minute snapshot of all that I hoped to convey through my words, whether written or spoken.

I had to be able to get right down to brass tacks and pique enough curiosity to spur a desire to know more.

And I wrestled.  Oh, how I wrestled.  The urge to blurt out, “My story isn’t anything special or exciting.” overtook me every time that question was asked. Despite my well thought-out pitch.

And it isn’t.

Except that it is.

Precisely because it’s mine.

God did not create me to be tasteless.  He created me to be salt.

And while salt surely can inflict pain, I prefer to think of my saltiness as being more curative. Much like the salt covering placed over foods to keep them from spoiling in historic times.

You see, I’ve felt spoiled.  I’ve known what it is to see my own flesh rotting on my bones; to smell it’s putrid stink.

And yet, there was One who redeemed me.  And stooped down to cover me with His grace galore.  A salty slathering of love reminding me that my story?  It needed to be told.

I shared it willingly.   With each person that asked, I shared of the grace I am smothered in.

And it was Spirit and Truth in each grain of salty goodness.

Yes indeedy.

It surely was.

I’ve so missed my friends over at Lisa-Jo Baker’s Five Minute Friday Link Up.  I’m joining in because my mind is still spinning with all of the salt and light that was shed at the SheSpeaks Conference, last weekend.  If you’d like to read what others felt led to write about this, hop on over to Lisa-Jo Baker’s place by clicking the button below.  Or, better yet, join in.  Just write for 5 minutes without editing or re-writing.  Happy Friday my friends!

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