Select Page

I’ve done a couple of interviews recently about my story, and a quote from my first book kept coming up in some way or another, either by the interviewer or myself.

I figured there must be a reason for this – and I have been working on being more mindful of those moments that catch my heart’s attention.

Trusting that someone needs these words today, I’m going to unpack this a bit.

“The pains of my past lost their sting when I realized their purpose.”

It is not just a cliche that everything has a purpose. I would have never believed you had you told me 20 years ago that all of my fears, pain, abuse, and dumb choices would be useful someday. Never. Like, never-ever. Instead of considering that possibility I would have held onto all the hurt, trading in any hope of healing for a mediocre fake smile existence. Oh, wait – that IS what I did.

But the day I found purpose in the pain was the day I confessed my abortions to my husband and my closest girlfriends.

That was the defining moment of hope for me. It was then I realized that every detail of my life to that point was setting the stage of purpose.

When I confessed my¬†abortions to Brent he responded with love like I had never known before. I had expected him to respond with anger and possibly taking our child and leaving me… he extended grace and mercy.

When my gal-pals rallied around me and even shared confessions of their own for the first time…

That is when I knew my pain had a purpose!

That was the moment I stepped out of my little Tam box and got hit upside my head with the reality that none of this was about me. It was about using my journey, all of it, the good – the ugly – the pain – the healing to display hope, forgiveness, freedom, acceptance, and God’s redeeming, transforming power.

This is the reason for my pain. And I would relive it over and over again if that meant I could give someone else hope in their pain.

Sister, brother, if this is speaking to you, I want to encourage you with something. God is trusting you with your journey. He sees you fit to endure it. He sees you as an overcomer able to give hope to others. That is an honor, friend.

You may not feel it now, and I understand – but hold tight, lean in, and know that others have been where you are now.

You are not alone.