To bring this encouragement series full circle, it seems fitting I write about the power of written words, since words are the gift I was given to use best.
I’m sure all of our parents told us when we open a card, we should read the verse inside first. Let’s be honest. Almost all of us race right past the flowery, preprinted sayings in a card, and search for any handwritten, personal words.
There is nothing better than a birthday card from a close friend that includes a story about something you did together in high school. Or a sympathy card that shares special memories of a mutual person you loved.
I’ve been told I write “the best” thank you notes. Instead of writing a generic quick note, my notes go something like this:
“I can’t tell you how much I was looking forward to spending the weekend with you. From the smile on your face when I drove into the driveway until the warm hug when I left, our time together was everything (and more) than I imagined. Did I eat too much of the salad you made for lunch? Don’t tell me if I did. It was delicious. And don’t think I didn’t notice the music you had playing. Can I say ‘high school flashback’ in the best way possible?”
I think you get the idea. Words have the power to lift people and to let them know you see what they’ve done and how much you appreciate their efforts.
When I started writing my novels, I had no idea about the impact my words would have.
My first novel, “After Anne,” is loosely based on a real friendship of mine. It’s about the power of friendship to get you through difficult times. People have told me that story taught them how to be a better friend. I’ve had men tell me the story taught them much about why friends are so important to their wives.
My stories are faith-based and often funny, even in the midst of difficult topics. My characters often whisper short prayers of thanks, for help or for healing. Many readers have told me they didn’t know you could pray like that. A short plea for help right in the middle of a tense situation. A sentence to God while talking to someone who needs guidance. Many have said they thought the only “proper” way to pray was in church, before a meal or at bedtime. They say my books taught them a new way to pray.
I had no idea my words could do that.
Then came my third book, “Becoming Olivia.” Had anyone told me years ago I would write a book about clinical depression, I would have shouted, “No way!” There’s a story behind the story.
I knew there was “something wrong with me” for years. I didn’t have a name for it. In high school, the word “melancholy” floated through my mind. I grasped onto it. It was a good word to describe how I felt inside. How I appeared on the outside was different.
I was a cheerleader. I was in Pep Club and pep band and student council. I was the homecoming queen. How could I possibly be sad when I had all these good parts in my life?
Then I got married to a wonderful man. We had two great kids. Not that we didn’t argue sometimes or have issues with the kids. That’s normal life. Still, in the midst of all the “wonderful,” there was a pervasive feeling of underlying sadness. What was wrong with me?
I’ve had a lifelong fascination with psychology. Eventually, I was able to label myself with depression, but there was no way I was going to admit that to anyone.
I fought with myself. I knew I should seek help, but maybe if I prayed enough or “thought” enough, I could find my way out of it. After all, my life was wonderful. Inside, I was miserable.
It took me many years to understand our circumstances don’t dictate depression.
There came a time when I could no longer deny what was going on inside me. I was crying constantly. I couldn’t get out of bed to see my kids off to school. Crippling anxiety had my heart beating 100 miles an hour and it felt like the world was going to end any second. I knew I couldn’t continue to live like that. Help.
It took time, several doctors, a short hospitalization, medication and, yes, prayer. Eventually, I found myself on the other side of that deep valley.
Eventually, I started writing and got to my third book, “Becoming Olivia,” which really could be titled “Becoming Roxy.” It was my most personal book, where, in a fictional way, I detailed my journey through depression. I thought I would feel ashamed to ever admit I’d struggled with it, and here I was writing a whole book about it.
I’ve since had doctors and therapists tell me they use that book in their clinical practice with their clients. But the most surprising and gratifying thing anyone has ever said to me about my writing is when a young woman came up to me after one of my speaking events, planted herself right in front of me, held a copy of “Becoming Olivia” in between us and said, “This. Book. Saved. My. Life.”
And, that’s when I knew God had a plan for me. Those years I struggled and fought my demons had a purpose, and this was it.
Never discount the power of your struggle nor your words. They may just save someone’s life. And, in a sense, writing saved mine.
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Roxanne (Roxy) Henke hopes you’ve been encouraged by this series on encouragement, that you’ve learned some new ideas and you’ve been challenged to encourage others. You can contact her at roxannehenke@gmail.com.
