The bumpy curve in the road, the lumpy curve of my hips, the curve of my smile, the sharp curve of my winged eyeliner. The Curve.
For me, the curve was something I had to learn to accept. And then to love.
I didn’t love the sharp curves and bumps in the road when my family was going through some really dark times a few years ago. I hated it. I hated every middle-of-the-night call I got from them telling me that we’d set off on yet another unexpected curve. I hated the heartache and the pain and the stress of it all.
But I can now see that, while those curves hurt and made the path much longer, they’ve really shaped our relationships with one another. Through faith and constant prayer, those curves were set straight and now, while we definitely don’t have it all together, my family is at a much better place than we were before. Because with every unexpected, hurtful, heartbreaking curve we took together, it showed us, or at least me, what it was like to have a heart of grace and forgiveness. It taught me what it was like to rely on the only One that matters. It humbled me by showing me what it felt like to be at the very bottom, looking up, grasping for any sign of hope.