Does my voice matter?
In the car on the way to my son’s first day at his new job, I made a suggestion: “Before you spend anything, why not put a percentage of each paycheck into savings?”
At fifteen, he didn’t have a car or his license, so carting him around still provided plenty of opportunities to talk about things that mattered—like being intentional with money.
“And remember, Dad and I will match your car savings.”
My suggestion was sound. Smart, even.
And it was rejected out of hand.
He already had things in mind that he wanted to spend his money on. Places he wanted to go. Stuff to buy. He still had almost a whole year to save for a car. He’d get around to it.
Disappointed, I dropped the subject. I knew enough about my son to know that pushing would only create resistance. Besides, my goal was to raise independent kids. I wanted him to want to save.
Later that day, when I picked him up from work, he was excited about a great idea. Mr. Tony—the friend he worked for—suggested he save a percentage of every paycheck. That way, when he was ready to buy a car, he’d have enough money, especially since his dad and I were matching his savings.
“Mr. Tony said, huh? Seems like that’s exactly what I said.”
He shrugged. “Can we go open a savings account?”
Mr. Tony and I offered the same advice. So why did my son get excited about Mr. Tony’s suggestion and reject mine altogether?!
Because it came from Mr. Tony. Something about the way he offered the advice hit just right—the way my kid could hear it.
From his pre-driving days
At the time, I was SUPER frustrated. It irritated me that Mr. Tony got all the credit for the great idea.
But here’s the thing: My kid heard and responded to Mr. Tony’s advice. If he hadn’t spoken up, my son might have eventually come around to the concept of saving as buying that first car became more urgent—but he would have wasted a lot of money first.
Who needs to hear your story?
Recently, I received a text from an author client:
“Do you think [this book] needs to be published? Is it adding something unknown or unspoken to what’s already out there?”
I had to smile. It’s a question—a fear—I hear in various forms:
Is this anything new?
Has this already been said?
Are people going to care?
Am I just adding to the noise?
Is this any good?
Does this book even matter?
Sometimes those fears surface when people are trying to decide whether they really want to write a book. But most often, they arise when things get real. The closer we get to finishing the project, the louder the voice of doubt becomes.
Occasionally, those fears get the better of people, and they quit before reaching the finish line. Sometimes they quit before they even start.
One of the things that makes your story matter is the person who needs to hear it.
The truth is, not every idea is groundbreaking. Some days, it feels like there really is “nothing new under the sun.”
But the way you tell the story—through your voice, your experiences, and your heart—is what allows it to connect with people in a way they can hear the message, perhaps for the very first time.
One of the best compliments I’ve ever received about my book was, “I feel like you wrote this just for me.” I didn’t know the woman, her situation, or her struggles. But what I wrote resonated with her as if I had written it with her in mind.
I believe that’s the Holy Spirit at work, connecting stories with people and messages with meaning in a way that helps us hear and respond to what He wants us to know.
So, if you’re wondering whether you should speak up—or maybe even write a book—my question isn’t whether what you have to say is brand-new or completely different from what’s already out there.
My question is: Who might hear something new because you were brave enough to share it?
If you need help or encouragement to get your story out into the world, let’s talk.