It seems at this moment, I’m in a season where the words float around my head striving to be heard, and yet when I go to place them on the page, they just aren’t there or it won’t come out just right to be understood. And instead, I find myself reading the words of others, and finding my thoughts and my heart written in terms I had never imagined and yet they resonate so deep, I have a visceral reaction to them.

And I’ve been struggling with the notion that I’m a writer, because so often I struggle to write and see the words flowing from those around me and I hear the lie whisper, ‘Maybe you should stop calling yourself that. You haven’t written in ages and compared to others, you’ve really not got much to offer.’  And while I’m struggling with everything being holed up in my mind right now, I’m thankful that I am able to take in the words and truth that others are sharing of their own journeys with feeling ‘not enough’ and having others come alongside them who say ‘Me too’ and ‘I’ve been there’…and its such a blessing to my heart. I am also so thankful for friends who hear my heart, who I’m able to at least get a bit of my thoughts out with and who speak truth back to me about the seasons we find ourselves in. My soul is refreshed and I’m rebuilt through these words of truth and kindness, and hope begins to flourish…even if its only a seed getting ready to unfurl underground.




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