Telling our stories is imperative. It’s hard and requires vulnerability. But it’s necessary and beautiful.
Our stories are filled with courage, heartache, magic, love, redemption, failure, beauty and intimacy. All of our stories are different, and yet so much alike. They are all lovely and powerful.
I’ve heard stories that made me laugh until my stomach hurt, stories that have made me cry my heart out, stories that helped me to mourn and celebrate others better, stories that have taught me to be wiser, more kind, more compassionate as I interact with others and the world.
Life is filled with stories; life itself is a story. An amazingly beautiful story of words being spoken and all of creation being made. There is love, redemption and peace in this wonderful story we are all living within day after day.
I want to share with you my story, which is compiled of numerous smaller stories. Stories of how I got to be where I am today, stories that shaped the woman I am, stories of times when I learned only from failing and stories that are marked by sweetness and grace.
I know how powerful words can be and there is something sacred about sharing our stories, they are pieces of ourselves, pieces of how we were created. Words are powerful. Words are why this blog exists.