The Story of Rewa Pressley

I’m surprised that I heard it. My life, at the time, was so noisy. Grief, uncertainty, fear, loneliness, and anger were screaming, each demanding supremacy in my ear.

“You’re all alone.”
“You’re always going to be alone.”
“You should be further along.”
“What’s next?”
“Why, God, why!”

And then, in a rare “moment of silence,” I heard it: “glimpses of your future are hidden in your past; clues to your calling can be discovered in your childhood.”

It wasn’t a thunderous voice from Heaven or even the Spirit’s gentle whisper. Nonetheless, I knew that it was God.
Who, but God, would have known what I needed to hear and when I needed to hear it?
Who, but God, could have timed the speaker’s voice so punctually?

Glimpses…clues…

What came to mind wasn’t the baby dolls, the Barbies, or even the books of my youth.
What I remembered, distinctly, was my three-holed, double-pronged, yellow notebook, filled with filler paper.
My cursive script etched out, on each line of every page.
The storylines and outlines bearing witness to the gift God had placed within me — page after page after page of stories.

Future…calling…

Could what I did – naturally, instinctively – as a child, be the real Rewa?
As my soul continued to quiet, I wondered. Could it be that stories were what God wanted me to do?
In that moment, that yellow notebook brought light to the darkness.

Fast forward a few years and a few “yeses” and here we are.
Grief, uncertainty, fear, loneliness, and anger are still present, but for once, they’re not keeping me from my future.
As a matter of fact, they’re actually remnants of the mess that have become my message.

What is my message, you ask? Good question.

I’m not married or divorced or widowed, so the message isn’t marriage.
I don’t have any children, so the message isn’t motherhood.
And as one who has always defined her worth and womanhood by those things, accepting that God had words that He wanted me to share has become another chapter of the story of my life.

I’m not the traditional, stereotypical, or relatable woman, so I concluded that there was no place, no audience, no community for me. What could I possibly say to women? I had no street cred, so to speak.
What God has shown me, is that my voice is no less valuable because of what I don’t have.
What He looks at is the heart – and I have a heart for women.
Specifically, I have a heart for broken women. And that’s enough.

So, here I am – an introverted woman more comfortable with a pen than with people – out here in these content creator streets, proclaiming the Good News, and the very specific message that God has given me to share is: from piece to peace.

Yes, peace. And no, I haven’t arrived yet, but “…sisters, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it.
But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead,
I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus.”

Through the perspective of scripture, using written and recorded stories, RED PRESS Communications provides a space for broken women to see themselves and to safely exchange their pieces for God’s peace, so that they can live whole and healthy lives.