Why Am I Even Writing This?

I posted my first blog entry yesterday. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t scared when I hit “post.” It wasn’t just scary—it felt like I was opening myself so that everyone could see. I was making myself vulnerable and sharing my deepest inner thoughts. But something stirred inside me today. Or maybe it’s been stirring inside of me for some time, and today was just the day that the dam broke and the words came rushing out like a river overflowing.

I wrote it and posted it all within an hour. And for those who know me, you know that’s not typical. I usually have to sit with things for a while. I revise and edit and tweak until it’s perfect. But today, I knew that if I waited, my anxiety and self-doubt would creep in, and those words would probably never be read by anyone but me.

I’ve always had a way with words. I say that humbly—not trying to be full of myself. I enjoy writing. I enjoy sharing bits and pieces of wisdom with others. I’m a deep thinker and love storytelling. I love quiet moments in nature and finding gems of truth. All of creation points back to God and reveals something about His character and His love for us. It’s always been something I’ve found beautiful—and something I’ve wanted to share.

But still, there’s a voice inside me that whispers:

“Why would anyone want to hear what I have to say?”
“Who would even read this?”
“Will people judge me? Will they think I’m full of myself?”

There’s a fine line between humility and confidence—and I’ve struggled to walk it for most of my life. I’ve always felt like I was made to encourage, to teach, to share, and to help people heal. People have spoken that over me for years. My mom always loved my writing.

I remember after 9/11, I was a college student and Vice President of Student Government. The campus was divided, students were scared, and I wrote something from my heart to bring peace. I had plans in my head that this would be something great to share at the event the campus administration were planning to promote peace and unity after this awful attack. I shared it with my mom, and I’ll never forget, after reading it she was moved, and she encouraged me to consider a minor in journalism. (I didn’t listen 🤦🏻‍♀️—I thought she was just bias because she was my mom).

I never shared that piece with anyone else. I planned to, but I let the fear take over. The self-doubt won. So those words stayed tucked away.

But yesterday, I didn’t let fear win.

I hit “post.”
Without editing it to death.
Without asking anyone’s opinion first.
I just let it be.

And I think that’s what God is leading me into—a season of writing, encouraging and sharing.

I’m not claiming every word I write is God inspired. I’m just a woman on a healing journey, seeking God, learning to use her voice, and daring to believe this might be part of her calling. I know I can be long winded (my stepfather once said I must have a mute twin out there and I got all her words - LOL), and my words may not be for everyone (and that’s ok). But I do hope that my words will resonate with some people and encourage them to dig deep within themselves, lean closer to God, and find healing and joy and purpose.

So I invite you to join me.

I don’t know exactly what this will turn into - LOL. I just know that for the first time in a long time, I feel like I can’t hold the words back. They are flowing fast, like the waters rushing out after a dam has broken.

And if you’re in a season like me—ready to bloom, to grow, to shine—let this be your reminder:

God gave you gifts and talents and someone out there is waiting for you to share it.

Not sure what your calling is? My friend, I want to encourage you - you are not alone. There is so much noise in the world and it’s so hard to hear sometimes. Take a few minutes today to sit in nature and ask God to show you. Who knows? This may just be the season where your river starts flowing and breaks those dams down.

This photo was taken a few years ago at Kent Falls - one of my favorite places to visit.

I didn’t know then just how much I’d need this reminder now: Sometimes, the dam has to break for something new to flow.