I sip my third cup of coffee in the early-morning hours and bleed. I bleed out words. I bleed out story and truth and dreams and wounds and vulnerability and fears. This is what I do. I write.

When I began writing, I had no idea of the journey on which it would take me. I didn’t know the words that spill from my heart would bring me new friends, as well as cause some to leave. I didn’t know the questions and answers that would surface from simply letting words flow. I didn’t know I’d have to wrestle with my own thoughts.

I didn’t know.

But I wouldn’t trade this journey for anything.

I’m thankful for each step on this journey. This writing is a process in which I learn about myself. When the words tumble out, I learn who I am and who I want to be.

I write for me. I write for you. I write about my microscopic piece of the world with hope that somehow a few words can make a difference. I write with the desire for hearts to connect…for shared experiences…for us to know we’re not alone in the world.

Today, I’m thankful to be able to continue on the journey of weaving words together.