I write because it’s one of the times I feel most like myself.

I write because, like others, I need a place to re-tell my  story and process it’s twists and turns. I trace my fingers over the memories of the day or last year, reading the raised braille of the faces I have held, the places I have lived, the grief and the love I have learned.

I write because the words want out.

I write because I love an unexpected love letter.

And that’s how this space feels. It feels like God writes letters to me via me.

It’s as if there is a message I need to decode before I can understand it. So, I sit and tap, tap, tap this keyboard until the meaning surfaces like lemon juice writing held over a flame.

I hit “publish” on the post and then go back to read it with fresh eyes and I catch a whisper of a message He intended just for me.

I write because you and I are both listening.

OK, your turn.

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