Learning to Roar: Life Lessons on faith, courage, and female pride

By Melissa C. Dyer

This book is for any woman who struggles with low self-esteem, knows she's not living as the hero of her own story, or is stuck in a pit of discouragement. Through vulnerably sharing her own stories of growth, Melissa takes her place as a companion, imperfect guide, and Champion on the journey towards courage for every woman who picks up this bo

• Language: English
• Publisher: Melissa C. Dyer
• Release date: Sep 10, 2020
• ISBN: 9781734785524

Melissa C. Dyer

Melissa C. Dyer is a wife, mother, business owner, and Champion of women. She's worked as a corporate executive, in Christian ministry, and as a homeschool mom. Her writing and teachings have inspired, challenged, and educated readers and listeners for more than 20 years. She resides in Florida with her husband and children.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

You may not control all the events that happen to you, but you can decide not to be reduced by them.

Maya Angelou

Everyone adored the kitchen in my last house, myself included. I couldn't take any credit for it as the previous owner had completed all the custom renovations. However, I often shamelessly accepted the praise. It was small by most standards, as was the rest of our home, but it had a few upscale features I enjoyed. And truly, most of the guests we invited into our home only noticed the décor. The best thing about that kitchen was the life we lived within its walls. It was the page on which the intimate story of our family had been written, a page full of family memories. Heart memories.

Memories like the rainy day we spent crowded in that tiny space, our family of four plus a couple we had supported and loved for years—immigrants we mentored and cherished and helped to become American citizens. All six of us covered in flour, hot from the steam of boiling water on the stove; each of us crimping the edges of tiny perogies until our fingers were sore.

Memories of hundreds of Christmas cookies carefully fashioned on granite counters by little hands. It was where my children spent hours studying arithmetic, grammar, and science. Homeschool co-ops gathered. Birthday candles blown out. It was a happy place that held the stories of our family life. And, because of that, it was more than a kitchen to me; it was my treasure box. It was in this space where I displayed my beloved cookbooks, collection of seashells, and scented candles. It was the place in which I was the most vulnerable and the least guarded.

And maybe, that’s why—when a very unexpected thing happened to me in my kitchen—it sullied all the happy memories that kitchen held and created a memory I don’t treasure. A memory that stings.

She was invited.

I had opened up not only my home to her and her family, but my life too, with all of its imperfections. Isn’t that what we are called to do as Christians? Open up our lives to one another? Love one another?

Of course, with all of this invitation to openness comes the turbulent reality that we all have a story, and within those stories, we carry our pain and brokenness. Tender spots that we don’t always know what to do with. If we are courageous enough to look those tender spots in the eye and work through the pain they cause, they might reveal to us opportunities for growth and healing. But more often than not, most people learn to protect themselves—their tender spots—by setting formal boundaries, and sometimes by erecting walls.

On this particular evening, I expected our guests to bring their formality with them.

In hindsight, I can see how all the disarming hospitality I had previously extended to this woman and her family could have led to the confusion. Why would she assume that this night would be any different than the numerous others she had spent with us in our home? She probably expected a casual gathering similar to others we had shared. But, on this night, I had conceived a special celebration and expected all the guests to follow the host’s lead. I shouldn’t have