I play many roles in this life, and I love each one of them. I am wife to the most integrity-filled and loving man, mother to a charming and hilarious three-year-old boy, friend, sister, and daughter to steadfast rocks of love in my world, oh yes, and doctoral student in psychiatric nursing.
All of these roles mean that there is not much left for that of writer. And yet I am discovering that writing is my creative outlet, my saving grace, my struggle, and my gift. I do not know what will come of it. But what I do know, and am becoming more certain of with each piece that I write–be it a scholarly paper, a journal entry, or a blog post–is that writing is something that I must do. It is my personal avenue to reach the Divine.
And so I will write. Here. Because making my words public draws out my best. Not necessarily my best writing, per se, but the best of my honest self. Setting free the words from my deepest heart challenges me to own who I am, embrace the ambiguities of my life, and celebrate in the truth that I am simply a work in progress.
I do not have an agenda of any kind here. I may go through seasons of frenzied writing and seasons of word drought. If I find myself caught up in worries about gaining readers, offending others, or perfecting my words, I hope that I will run as far away from this blog as possible. My only purpose is to set my words (and heart) free.
Welcome to my work in progress.