Unfinished Stories

Have you ever wondered what to say when someone asks how something or someone has changed your life?

My experience usually goes something like this:
Question I read in a book: "How has Jesus changed your life?"
My thoughts: "I'm supposed to have a great answer to this question."
Book: Gives wonderful example answer involving turning from a life of addiction, dramatic conversion experience, and ninjas.
My thoughts: "hmm, my story isn't really like that."  "What is my story?"  "Why can't I think of anything?"  "Did Jesus really make a difference in my life?"  "Sarah, don't be silly, of course he did!  You have learned and grown so much!"  "Why can't I think of anything?"

I mean, my story isn't like the other stories I hear that sound, well, exciting and dramatic.  My story feels much more steady and even-keeled, with no huge turning points, only lots of little ones.  It's always bothered me that I find it difficult to answer the question, "How has Jesus changed your life?"

I think it's because all my stories are unfinished.  There's nothing I can look at and say, "I used to really mess this up, but now I get it right."  It doesn't mean I'm not changing and learning, it just means I'm learning and changing more of the same things continually.

Here are some of the dimensions where my life keeps changing:
Learning to spend time with Jesus
Knowing Jesus
Learning who Jesus says I am
Learning to share and be generous
Learning humility
Learning to love other people with actions
Learning to communicate acceptance with words

There are many others, those are just the few that come to mind at the moment.  The thing is, they're all unfinished.

Rejection.

The door is closed.
It seems unopenable, impenetrable, immovable;
it doesn't really matter that it was closed inch by inch
until the last crack of light disappeared,
instead of slammed shut in an instant;
it is closed for now.
The phone buzzes.
It's a final word from a former friend,
words of anger, words that pierce;
"I don't like what you said, I won't be your friend,"
the message sinks past defenses to the vulnerable heart;
will it stay that way?
Avoided glances.
This hurts almost more than the words that were spoken,
a constant reminder of friend torn asunder,
and the heart wants to harden, to strengthen defenses,
to numb all the hurts,
yet it remains open.