I might not stick with this one, as at 51 I've had several origin stories!! But this one came to mind for the exercise. It's not quite *right* as far as a writing project, but it was incredibly helpful to get me thinking and feeling. Thank you for these exercises!
Once upon a time, I was a homeschooling mom—happily and complementarily married—living what I believed was the life God designed for me. I was determined to be a godly woman: devoted wife, nurturing mother, joyful homemaker, faithful teacher.
Every day, I woke up with hope. The wonder of learning, the curiosity in my boys’ faces, and the closeness of our little world made me feel certain I was on the right path. We read for hours, played in the sunshine, and built friendships that still hold steady today. I shared my faith freely—everywhere I went—because I wanted everyone to know the God I knew. I thought I had everything figured out: parenting, Christianity, even the Bible itself.
Until one day, we met Dax (not his real name) at church—and we decided to adopt him.
Because of that, great pain, anger, fear, and chaos entered our home, shattering the quiet rhythms I’d built.
Because of that, the parenting tools I trusted stopped working, and I found myself desperate for help.
Because of that, I started searching—reading, listening, praying, learning from people I’d once dismissed.
Because of that, the certainty that had once anchored me began to crack open, and through those cracks, compassion started to grow.
Until finally, I learned what it means to love without conditions, without fear, and without needing to be right.
This exercise lands beautifully. Too often people chase “calling” like it’s buried treasure, when it’s really hidden in the trail we’ve already walked. Writing the origin story makes you see that grace was never random—it’s been stalking you the whole time.
Blessed be the ones who read their past like scripture written in their own handwriting.
Once upon a time I was working as a technical copywriter...
Every day I would work hard to turn complex technical subjects into readable content for business people, but I was bored, and unfulfilled
Until one day I launched a Substack, about vegan food.
Because of that, I reignited my passion for writing, and for cooking
Because of that, I now have 18 months' worth of essays describing interesting food and my experiences in the kitchen
Because of that, I'm now compiling my first recipe book
Until finally, a local restaurant is talking to me about helping them create a new autumn menu, all plant-based, seasonal and sustainable
Will!!! This is amazing. Way to go. Thanks for sharing.
I’m enjoying your exercises and my comment above wasn’t really apparent to me until the process helped me realise the path I’d been blindly walking!
Sorry I’m late to the party! Have been laid up with Covid and just now catching up. Hope this isn’t too long . . .
Once upon a time I was an evangelical Christian woman who looked to every outside source for validation, direction, and identity.
Every day I questioned myself because what I was feeling inside was not in alignment with what I was being “told” to do, think, say, or believe.
Until one day, the dissonance became so great, I could no longer ignore it.
Because of that, I started secretly listening to “taboo” podcasts and reading books that were previously off-limits, from other former evangelicals.
Because of that, I began to feel validated in my misgivings and doubts.
Because of that, I felt empowered to do even more exploring, questioning, and researching.
Because of that, my old faith started completely unraveling.
Because of that, I ended up rebuilding a vastly different image of God.
Until finally, I ended up rebuilding a vastly different image of myself.
Such a powerful exercise. And there is such a clear theme that comes through.
:)
Once upon a time I was homeschooling my four kids.
Every day I strived to teach my children a balanced curriculum, but I felt unfulfilled.
Until one day I heard the phrase "biblical illiteracy", and decided to slowly read through the Bible.
Because of that I realized how much of the Bible I did not know firsthand.
Because of that I began to look for resources to teach me how to study and understand the Bible for myself.
Because of that I couldn't keep quiet; I wanted others to experience the Bible firsthand too.
Until finally, I was able to start a Bible study that was focused on Biblical literacy.
I might not stick with this one, as at 51 I've had several origin stories!! But this one came to mind for the exercise. It's not quite *right* as far as a writing project, but it was incredibly helpful to get me thinking and feeling. Thank you for these exercises!
Once upon a time, I was a homeschooling mom—happily and complementarily married—living what I believed was the life God designed for me. I was determined to be a godly woman: devoted wife, nurturing mother, joyful homemaker, faithful teacher.
Every day, I woke up with hope. The wonder of learning, the curiosity in my boys’ faces, and the closeness of our little world made me feel certain I was on the right path. We read for hours, played in the sunshine, and built friendships that still hold steady today. I shared my faith freely—everywhere I went—because I wanted everyone to know the God I knew. I thought I had everything figured out: parenting, Christianity, even the Bible itself.
Until one day, we met Dax (not his real name) at church—and we decided to adopt him.
Because of that, great pain, anger, fear, and chaos entered our home, shattering the quiet rhythms I’d built.
Because of that, the parenting tools I trusted stopped working, and I found myself desperate for help.
Because of that, I started searching—reading, listening, praying, learning from people I’d once dismissed.
Because of that, the certainty that had once anchored me began to crack open, and through those cracks, compassion started to grow.
Until finally, I learned what it means to love without conditions, without fear, and without needing to be right.
This exercise lands beautifully. Too often people chase “calling” like it’s buried treasure, when it’s really hidden in the trail we’ve already walked. Writing the origin story makes you see that grace was never random—it’s been stalking you the whole time.
Blessed be the ones who read their past like scripture written in their own handwriting.