There are many stories to tell and many ways to tell them.  Stories of pain and hardship.  Stories of how grace reaches down to transform us and interweave difficult experiences with threads of unexpected beauty.

Having lived for many years with chronic illness, I know about the strange and constant mix of grief and grace in the day to day.  I know of the struggle that leads to resilience, and the value of faith and community in the midst of it.  I’ve learned about fighting for joy and the discipline of keeping my eyes open to beauty.  Of remembering that the story I think is being told is actually being shaped in much bigger ways than I had ever hoped or feared.

The way we choose to tell our stories matters.  It shows what we believe about the world and our place in it.  Even the stories we read, the ones we enter with our imaginations, can open our eyes to new perspectives.

Every moment of every story matters. The ability to take each moment as it comes and embrace what is before us, the beautiful and hard things together, matters.

I am interested in the ways these moments impact us.  The choices we make that bring us to these moments.  The way we are sometimes led to them without realizing it.  The way we receive them.  The way they shape us.  The way they can be connected over time in our minds and hearts and in words on a page, to tell a tale of our time on earth.