Being a Bookmark

The more I thought about this season, the more the word “bookmark” seemed to fit.

My old co-worker wasn’t the story. The children were the story. But seeing someone again who was connected to that old chapter of my life became like a bookmark—something that helped me find my place again.

A bookmark literally connects two moments in reading: where you stopped and where you begin again. Metaphorically, it can connect two seasons of life too.

I was living my current chapter when someone from an old chapter suddenly appeared. That made me reopen pages I hadn’t looked at in years. I found old journals, remembered the children, rediscovered dreams and lessons I had almost forgotten, and began looking at those lessons through the woman I am now.

The bookmark wasn’t the destination. It simply marked a place I needed to return to.

And maybe that is one of the strangest and most beautiful parts: a PERSON became the bookmark. My old co-worker didn’t write those old chapters, and he didn’t create the lessons. The children and I lived those stories years ago. But seeing him again pointed me back toward them.

Past Tiffney met present Tiffney at that bookmark.

I didn’t go backward so I could live there again. I went back long enough to remember where I had been, what I had learned, and what I wanted to carry forward.

Sometimes God doesn’t bring something from our past back because we’re supposed to live there again. Sometimes it simply helps us find our place so we can keep reading forward.

And somehow, in my case, reopening those old pages led to an ACTUAL book: Stars in the Sky. 

A few lines I want to remember:

“Who knew I needed a bookmark to find my place again?”

“You were here once. Now you’ve come back—not to stay here, but to remember where you were and continue the story.”

“You weren’t the story. You were the bookmark that helped me find my place again.”

“My old co-worker was the bookmark. The children were the story. God was still writing. And I found my place again.”

Maybe someday this becomes a poem called “The Bookmark.” It could be about how a person can unexpectedly mark a place in your life, and years later their reappearance helps you rediscover something in yourself that you left between the pages.

And maybe that’s the funniest part of all: the woman who needed a bookmark to find her place again ended up becoming an author.