Note: The story is based on the same song by Katy Nichole and Big Daddy Weave. Written, then edited, as a college assignment. Some realistic elements appear in this piece, although I changed one of the names.

Emerald stared at the empty piece of paper. Why did writer's block happen two days before she sent in her manuscript? Her editor told her he would not accept the publication to be placed in their magazine if she didn't submit the writing on time. Thirty torn-up pages lay crumpled near her bed. Try as she might, the words would not come to her. Nevertheless, she knew she could succeed if she put her mind to writing her memoir. Her father always told her she could accomplish whatever she set her mind to, but she struggled with accomplishing those tasks since his boating accident. The doctors kept him alive, but he resided in a coma.

She crumbled up another seven pages. Just like the writing, these words were not good enough. Just like her size was not good enough for those cheerleaders who almost destroyed her life fifteen years ago. Her mind wandered to the popular girl's blatant disregard for someone her size. Those girls told her she was no good in a size 18 and that if she wanted to fit in, she would need to go down to a size 7. Why did they not understand she loved her weight? Was it not enough that Emerald loved her own body? Not to them, it seemed.

She did not let the chapters in life define her at first. In high school, her cousin, Jason, battled the law and alcoholism. Jason's girlfriend left him following his disregard for the law and social pressure. From what she told Emerald, Jason wanted her to blow into the breathalyzer so the breathalyzer would not register that he drank alcohol. Moron. Then Emerald's aunt died from cancer, she lost her best friend for several months following college graduation because of depression, and her family split apart following her dad's boating accident.

She lost her family but found a purpose that had never been in her life. She realized her mistakes in life served a purpose, and the hands of grace and endless love waved at her in every room. What once smelled like sadness smelled like a room full of wafted cookies where a wafting aroma and kindness and love took its place. If only the bedroom smelled the same way growing up, Emerald knew she would have spent more time indoors.

Following another ten crumpled attempts, a small laugh escaped Emerald. She tossed the pencil against the glass window and listened to the thump. She could not do this. Her father's saying did not feel true. She should give up and wait until the next contest. No, she decided. Giving up was what the teenagers in high school told her to do. Giving up was what her best friend did until Emerald intervened. Emerald dusted off the pain life offered and picked herself up. Like another one of her dad's sayings, "Never give them anything except your true authentic self. When life is hard, fight back harder."

"I wonder," Emerald mumbled after more crumpled-up papers. Her Creative Writing teacher told her once to write what she knew. Emerald knew her dad well enough, so perhaps she could start with that. As she started writing, the words became easier, and she found the hope flickering out in her soul return, as her heart told her it was never gone. While reflecting on her father, her thoughts turned to her other father, the one in Heaven. However, before she could progress in her writing, her mother entered. If she noticed the crumpled papers, she did not say anything.

"Emerald, honey, we need to go. It's your dad. He woke up."

Throwing clothes on over her pajamas, Emerald followed her mom outside. She knew it was impractical, but the hospital's policy forbid guests from arriving wearing pajamas. The AC blasted in the car; the temperature was eighty outside, she was in her soccer t-shirt, and sweat loitered her entire face. Emerald bit her lip as she thought about her dad, all alone and wishing for family.

As much as she argued with her dad, Emerald cared about him. She did not want to see his pain; she would rather be in pain. One night was all it took to almost lose her father and for her life to change forever. The future looked bleak. However, the future would change once her dad returned home.

"We're here," Mom called, interrupting Emerald's thoughts.

Emerald dashed out of the car before her mother could put it in park. After being informed of room number 160, Emerald started to dash over there, but a hand on her shoulder prevented her from running. It was her mom's, and she had a stern look. Emerald sighed, knowing she would have to walk to her dad's room.

As Emerald walked, she could not help but ask herself if her dad was genuinely okay. According to the doctor, anyone who wakes up from a coma has potential brain issues. However, some people fully recover and are unaffected by the coma. What was Emerald going to see when she walked in? Would her dad even be awake? Would there be blood? If so, how much blood? Emerald stopped in front of the doorknob and stared at it. The future was on the other side. Emerald forced herself to open the door as she knew the sight would not be pretty. She could handle this, right?

Seeing her father awake and safe brought tears to Emerald's eyes. Some of her felt broken every time she woke up, and her father was still in the hospital. Still, she persevered. "Hey, Slugger," he said.

Emerald rushed him, and her dad chuckled as he wrapped an arm around her. "I missed you. I thought you were going to die."

Her dad wiped a tear from her eyelid. "You too. Don't worry. My story is still going."

Indeed, his story was still going. The doctor announced there was no brain damage. Emerald felt her heart grow, and a voice whisper for her to start writing. Trusting the voice, Emerald grabbed some paper from her dad's room and began writing the ending. Reflecting on her life, she realized God stood by her constantly. God was present with her in all of the seasons of her life. He never gave up on her. God was in the details. She could trust that He was working things together for her good.

God was in this story. God was in the details, and because of him, she submitted her manuscript on time.