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For this, I write

5/22/2025

A writer. I am a writer.

And what do I write?

Why do I write?

Is it for me? To express myself in a way that gives clarity to my life? The words I write shape my thoughts and feelings providing an anchor, a way to see and reflect. To ponder, to wonder, to decide.

Do my words go out and become something to others? Is it so they can be a part of me? A connection? The longer I live the more I know that connection is what we all seek.

We are connected to our space, the people around us, the nature around us. The very air we breathe is shared with all things living and creates a kinship. The time we spend here on earth is so small, such a moment in time that is encapsulated by words, if we write.

And so I write. To leave the words that will connect generations from now with us, we who have come before.

Its what happened to me when I read the words of Willa Cather, Nathaniel Hawthorne, Walt Whitman, Louisa May Alcott, Lucy Maud Montgomery, Jane Austen, Charles Dickens and Toni Morrison (who I only discovered after high school).

I discovered voices other than the ones of the Old and New Testament. I discovered ways of thought and living other than those of my parents and grandparents. I developed critical thinking skills and there was no stopping me.

The questions came, life continued, and I walked towards my destiny, even though I was not sure what it would look like, I knew that it was more than what I saw around me. Faith is the substance of things hoped for the evidence of things not seen. Even as I sit and type now, the words that were instilled in me spring forth just as clear as can be. What is instilled in you as a child never leaves you.

My faith is the strongest its ever been. I have never left my faith. My faith is rooted in the teachings of the church and has grown into the essence of who I am, here, now, in this present world. We all need a background, we all need some foundational truths that will become the foundation on which to build our lives. You came from something, from someone, you are not here based on anything you yourself have done.

Once you open your eyes into this world…your life (work) begins. Your journey begins. At first you are dependent on your birth mother and the choices she makes from the moment of conception, she chooses to birth you. She chooses your people and environment, whether by marriage, adoption, abandonment, or even abortion, she chooses. Then the choice is yours, as you grow into your own awareness, you choose how to respond and behave and life carries on.

As we grow and become, we find ourselves asking and answering; asking ourselves, asking others and answering based on what we see, hear, feel, smell, touch. Our senses define our reality.

This is why I write. I know there is someone out there, who was just like me. A 7 year old girl who would read voraciously trying to make sense of the world and understand how to move within it. I saw others and wanted to experience more but at the same time I wanted to honor the teachings of my family, and the God of their bible. It was a twisted existence until I broke away and removed fear from my decision making.

Creativity has a way of shaping your identity. Learning to live without fear of sinning (doing things that go against what men believe you should be and think) creates a peace and simplicity to your life that welcomes serenity and authenticity.

This is not word salad, this is truth. There is true peace when you recognize yourself who you are without the projections of others layered onto your spirit. When you no longer live to prove or to justify, but to simply be...to live out loud, thoughtfully, creatively, truthfully.

And that is why I write.

Because writing is how I keep myself honest. It’s how I process what I believe and why I believe it. It’s how I unlearn the shame, the silence, the submission that was once mistaken for holiness and righteous living. It’s how I learn to listen, and not just to the world around me, but to the voice within.

I write to speak life into the little girl I once was and the woman I continue to become. I write for the woman sitting in her quiet room, wondering if she’s allowed to question, to grow, to change. I write for you who are tired, the faithful sons and daughters, the curious minds, and the quiet rebels who are breaking free in their own gentle ways.

I write because stories have power. They remind us we are not alone. That what we carry has been carried before. That the ache in our chest has a name. That our dreams have a place. That even when the world feels heavy, our words can still be light.

So yes, I am a writer.

Not because I have all the answers, but because I refuse to stop asking the questions.

Not because I’ve figured it all out, but because this journey actually is sacred. The search, the stumbling, the surrender, all of it...sacred. This is my sanctuary; a writer's sanctuary.

And if my words can be a companion to someone else on that road, then I have done what I was put here to do.

I write, because I must. You are welcome to come along while the breath of life is still within me, and for those who will read my words long after I’m gone…welcome.

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