I feel a need to explain myself: who I am, why I’m here, and why I decided to begin blogging. I don’t know that I’ll answer all those questions fully, but this post will be a start.
I’ve always been a writer. From a young age, to now in my career, writing has come easily and naturally to me. In elementary and middle school, writing was an outlet. I blogged about scripture as I learned more about God and myself, I journaled about all the miseries of middle school, and I wrote a song about a boy that I liked. I even wrote a song about being pulled out of public school to be homeschooled by my mom. (That’s another story.) I wrote about anything and everything that inspired me, frustrated me, moved me, or brought me joy.
As I entered public school again in high school, I wrote endless essays and papers, poems, book reports, and chapter summaries. But I stopped writing for me. Fast forward to my current role, and much is the same. I’ve written marketing copy, policy copy, social media posts, email newsletters, internal documentation, standard operating procedures, etc. And each time I had to bring my gift of writing out into my professional life, I had to dust it off and remember how much I miss putting my thoughts and emotions into words on screen and paper.
I work at Connections Homes, where we serve young adults who age out of foster care. I love my job. I also love my husband, my kids, and the life we’ve built together. In the last 5 years, my husband and I have crossed several milestones: find long-term jobs, buy a house, find a church community, start a family, settle in. Check, check, check, check, check. But in the last few months, I’ve realized I developed a kind of tunnel vision around the two worlds of work and family.
I am thrilled to be where I am. Having a husband who loves me for who I am (flaws and all!), having a son and daughter when I thought I was never going to be a mom, having a house after thinking I was never going to be financially stable, and having a job I love after thinking I would never do anything worthwhile are all signs of God’s faithfulness, grace, and abundance in my life. But when I look back on the totality of who I am as an individual, I have to admit that I dropped some things along the way, even as God blessed me over and over again. So I’m here to pick them back up.
The problem with believing lies is that they quietly give birth to new lies. Looking back, at some point while I was believing I’d never do anything worthwhile, I also started to believe that my talents and passions weren’t worthwhile. When I entered motherhood, I was forced to confront the lie that I would never be a mom. And when I looked at the dominoes of lies behind it, I asked of each one, “What if this one is wrong, too?”
I’ve decided that I’m done believing lies and ignoring parts of myself that God planted within me on purpose. All of them are good. All of them are worthy of sunlight and fresh air. Even if I can’t see how God will use them, I have to steward each gift well until he reveals it to me.
One of the gifts I’m picking back up is my love of writing. Another is my deepening passion for health—not just in the sense of food or exercise, but in the way our bodies were designed to heal and be healed. In recent years, I’ve become more and more fascinated with how nourishment, movement, and daily rhythms can reverse disease. I’ve watched my dad walk through that and I’ve walked through it personally, and I’ve seen how small but powerful changes can shift big things.
So while I’ll write about faith, family, and calling, I’m also stepping into a new chapter of learning and sharing about healing. I’m not arriving with answers; I’m showing up with curiosity, reflection, and a desire to reconnect with the whole person God made me to be.
If you’ve ever felt like you dropped parts of yourself along the way, welcome. You’re in good company.
