I now see how owning our story and loving ourselves through that process is the bravest thing that we will ever do. || Brené Brown

Looking back at our faith story is not about romanticizing the past or becoming trapped in it. Instead, understanding our origin story helps to recognize the experiences, relationships, and beliefs that shape our worldview. Nostalgia often emerges during seasons of uncertainty, loneliness, or when we’re searching for meaning. It’s an invitation for us to revisit the people and moments that formed us.

Researcher and author Brené Brown says, “We define nostalgia as a yearning for the way things used to be in our often idealized and self-protective version of the past” (Atlas of the Heart, 2021).

All hail Brené, the high priestess of getting uncomfortable, serving up raw truth, and crippling our perfectly curated emotional defense mechanisms.

Although these memories can prompt both joy and grief, they provide valuable insight into why we believe what we believe today. For those wandering through the wilderness, reflecting on the past with honesty and compassion can become a healthy part of growth. By understanding where our beliefs originated, we are better equipped to discern which parts of our faith still bring life and which may need to be reexamined, allowing us to move forward with greater wisdom, authenticity, and hope.

My dad recently experienced an amazing milestone. His 80th birthday. As we gathered to celebrate him, we spent the weekend trading stories and laughing. While I listened to dad dig up old stories prompted by his birthday greetings, I finally understood something I hadn’t been able to put my finger on before. Each of us carries our own watercolor version of what happened in every story, and those pictures meld into the shared history of our lives. We will never see the same story the exact same way, and somehow, that settles my soul.

The laughter and lightness of that weekend healed something in me I didn’t know needed healing. Those old tales inspired more stories, moments, and laughter. Those stories seem to piece me back together, like broken shards finding their way into a mosaic. Many memories called up the same house. The details, the colors, the smells, the creak in the old floors. The old box fan humming in the hallway, the worn red carpet, the peeling yellow floral wallpaper in my bedroom. The big sliding pocket doors, the faucet that always had its hot and cold backwards, the stained glass windows, and the smell of the kerosine heater on a freezing cold morning. Each little detail helps to put a piece of my past back in place.

Not all of these memories are beautiful or soul-healing. Those have their place too. For me, it helps to remember that we all see situations through our own experiences and perspectives. It’s a never-ending journey through the details and the lessons and the hurts.

Be gentle with yourself as you wander through memories, thoughts, inspirations, and reflections. This isn’t something with a time frame. It’s a task that takes time, patience, grace, and humility, an inescapable undertaking as we step together into the unknown. The path forward will at times be saturated with vibrant flora that takes your breath away and stirs up joy and a sense of peace. It will at times be overgrown with vines that cause you to stumble blindly forward into an abyss of achingly raw flashbacks. The space feels boundless, like it will never end.

I am learning to anchor myself in the smell of fresh air and the herby scent of the greens that surround me. I can imagine the stars shining radiantly in the complete and still darkness. I can feel God’s presence as I breathe, and as He heals the raw edges around my scars. I always know when it’s time to move on. You will find your own way of grounding yourself. You will learn to stay in it and feel it all, and there will be times you seek solace in a fragrant field of wildflowers as you move from one memory into the next.

Walking gingerly through your past can shift your feelings and thoughts toward freedom in your relationship with God. It has the ability to break down walls and heal the scars and battle wounds of your heart. It has replaced inherited beliefs with a meaningful, strong relationship with the Father, encouraging healing and growth. It has altered thought patterns that were always meant to be rewritten, and it can change how you view ideologies, certainties, hurts, and failures.

I can finally say with conviction that my past doesn’t define me. My stories created me. Just as my DNA built my body, my experiences and tales and myths have filled in the pieces of my soul. My stories connect me to amazing people. My stories connect me to my empathy, opinions, beliefs, and narratives. They’re unpredictable and lovely, and these days I find myself dwelling more on the lovely ones.

There is no agony like bearing an untold story inside of you. || Maya Angelou