Addison Crissone

Last week, I finally finished the rough draft of my newest manuscript. I have a habit of staying up way too late writing, and this night was no different. 
I was supposed to be on vacation, but I found out a long time ago that stories do not simply stop or pause at will.
They keep going.
And so must I.
It was a little after eleven o’clock at night, and I was sitting in my bed with my laptop open in my lap when I wrote my last words. 
The final sentence. 
The book was finished.
One would think that after four months of hard work, persistence, and dedication, I would be endlessly happy and satisfied with myself and my work. Instead? 
I felt like I had just lost something dear. Like something wonderful had at last come to an end, sort of like when waking up from a dream. 
I felt empty. 
Like I had poured out every fiber and ounce of my heart into this book, and I was empty. 
This book has been one of the most exhilarating and rewarding pieces I have ever had the privilege of writing. But it’s also been extremely exhausting. 
But nothing comes without work. Without sacrifice. 

It was after writing that last sentence that I turned to my Bible resting on my nightstand. I turned to Psalm 145, to a verse my sister actually claimed for me last month. 

“They shall speak of the glory of your kingdom and tell of your power, to make
known to the children of man your mighty deeds, and the
glorious splendor of your kingdom,” (v. 11-12). 

That is what I have tried to do, with this book as well as with everything I’ve written. 
Tell of His kingdom.
Tell of His mighty deeds.
Why? 
So that future generations may know and not forget what God has done e in the past, and what He can do with our futures. 
So no matter if we are empty or full, happy or sad, we know what we are fighting for. 
I know what I have been called to do.

So everything I do is worth it.