I signed a book, and then I cried

📖 "I signed a book, and then I cried”

July 30, 2025 – A Woman’s Wondering

The pen shook in my hand.

Not because I didn’t know what to write — but because I couldn’t quite believe I was writing it. My name. In a book. One that I wrote. One that people actually wanted me to sign.

And then — I cried.

Not a dramatic sob, just a quiet little spill of gratitude that made my eyes blurry and my heart full.

But let me rewind a little.

Leading up to the book signing, everything seemed to go wrong.

Printing delays. Nerves. Tiny doubts with big voices. A last-minute scramble to make bookmarks and thank-you cards. The coffee, the cookies, the table, the setup, the worry that nobody would come. That I was silly for even trying.

That old feeling of "who do you think you are?" was loud and persistent.

But God… oh, He knew exactly what He was doing. And He didn’t miss the deadline.

That Saturday morning bloomed into something more than an event. It felt like coming home.

The bookshop was warm with chatter and the smell of instant cappuccino sachets. People hugged, laughed, wiped away the odd tear (okay, I wiped away the odd tear). It was like a kitchen table visit with friends I didn’t even know I had. Strangers stood before me with stories of their own, some carrying hurts, some joy, some nostalgia. And somehow, the book spoke to each of them.

One by one, women leaned in and told me things — quiet things. Sacred things. Some asked me to sign their copy “for their daughter.” Others said the stories reminded them of their gran. One woman simply looked me in the eye and whispered, “This matters.”

I wanted to hold her hand forever.

God doesn’t miss a thing, does He?

He knows when the pages will come together. He knows who needs a seat at the table. He knows how to place stories in the hands of the right reader — at just the right time.

And when He ordains something, not even printer hiccups or nerves can derail it.

I’m still in awe of the kindness I received that day. From strangers who somehow already felt like lifelong friends. From readers who gave me the gift of their time, their stories, and their trust.

So yes — I signed a book.

And then I cried.

Because this whole journey — this A Woman’s Apron story — it’s more than a project. It’s a patchwork of people, prayers, and pages.

And it’s only just begun.

With damp tissues, and a heart full of gratitude,
– Lezanne 🌸