I have been surrounded by people who not only love me but admire and respect me. They see my abilities, skills, talents and God-given gifts readily and had reassured me I am able, talented, gifted and skilled in many areas, but most of all, in my writing. I can make magic with words! That’s how I got the nickname of the Word Wizard.

The journey to owning that title was decades long. It started with my first book. I had been sharing devotionals and thoughts about various scripture passages with a group of friends via a group email. It was before social media - Yes, I’m that old! Through my church I had become associated with a couple of spiritual mentors who poured into me as they affirmed me. One day, I asked one of them if he thought my writing was really good enough that others - who didn’t even know me—would want to read it. Like if I published a book. Quite exasperated, he told me, “You are a fantastic writer, and others definitely need to read what you have to say. What has to happen for you to believe it.” I answered only to myself that my heart and mind have to believe it, too.

The book was written! It was well-received. I still sell a few copies today. It was, admittedly a good book! Then ten years later, book number two, about grief, hope and healing. Eighteen years from the publication of the first book, number 3 about affliction, has been published. I knew it was well-written. I knew it would touch a lot of people. But the topic is heavy and I was really honest and open about everything I had experienced through Covid-19. I was concerned readers would think it was too dark. But I published it! And my first review — 5 stars! — says in part, “Across thirty devotions and fourteen poems, she offers a month-long journey of reflection and renewal. Each entry carries the imprint of a woman who wrestles openly with doubt yet refuses to let go of grace. Her transparency moved me profoundly, and her testimony strengthened my own faith in ways I did not expect.”

OK! I believe it! I am, indeed, a wizard with words! Like my paternal grandmother and my mother before me, I work crossword puzzles in ink. I can spontaneously compose a poem on any subject you can throw at me. I have a deep faith and strong Scriptural knowledge. I am basically an intelligent person. I do think about the world in ways, that maybe most people don’t. That’s because I’m all about the story. What’s the story behind the headlines? What’s the source of someone’s profound kindness or steely cruelty? What makes people tick? What is God revealing to me in the moment, that he wants me to share?

The gift isn’t mine, though. It’s God-given! And I am repentant that I have neglected it too often and for too long. These days I hearken back to the prolific years in between. I just can’t stop writing! I take notes on the sermons on Sunday, jot down notes in the margin of our Bible study booklet or the margins of the Bible and go down rabbit holes to research a phrase or word. I read prolifically, too. Stories and ideas come to me constantly and I write just because I have a thought or idea. Sometimes it just gets saved on my computer or written within the pages of my journal. I think those are the words God intends for me. They may become something else, but they need to sit and wait for the appointed time. Or not!

The point is this: I have to write! It’s definitely a genetic predisposition. It took me a really long time to accept that not only is it genetic, but I’m also really good at it. I’m really good at it, because I write to honor God and in honor of Him. I’m the Word Wizard. I claim it! I own it! I’m finally living in to it!

I help writers tell their stories, and I share my own journey to help them find their way through. I’m supposed to write. Yes. And as the Word Wizard, I’m supposed to help others write. And I’m really good at that, too.

I find myself questioning the God to whom I am beholden.

The world this day weighs heavy and huge, and God feels very far away.

I heave a sigh, so near to tears as I take in all that’s going on today.

Wars and riots and murders and every imaginable kind of oppression

Prevails today as those enamored of power wield their obsession.

I count my calories and plan my lunch, snacks and evening meal.

Before one event is over another comes – impossible to even heal.

Follow up phone calls now overdue. Work emails waiting to be sent

Ordinary tasks, not taking into account how far the world’s arc can be bent

I’m unsteady, feeling as if planet earth is spinning out of control

Whatever happened to a world where peace endured and love was the goal?

I don’t know any answers except this one: God’s given us the handbook of what to do.

It is absolutely sinful to live as if tomorrow will come and the world will be new.

Yet we make no protest, do no harm, but make no effort to change another’s heart.

Our action, our faith, our belief in God’s promise is just the beginning of our small part.

I’m beholden to God because of this life He gave me and the world He has made.

Some mornings, I need an extra dose of the purple, pink and golden and not the gray fade.

#nationalpoetryday #poetrywriting #marymosspoetry

© Mary Moss 2026

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This past Sunday, the gospel and sermon topic was Genesis 45, part of the story of Jacob, his son, Joseph, and his brothers. It’s a real soap opera of a story!

God had made a promise to Jacob that He would make his descendants as numerous as the dust and bless the nations through him and protect him where he went. Fast forward to Jacob’s 11^th son, Joseph who was highly favored by his father and showered with affection, gifts and more. He was basically a spoiled brat. The entire story is told in Chapters 37 – 50! So yes, it’s a real page turner and you definitely need to follow along or you’ll forget which part of the story you’re on.

I will share a brief summary of everything that leads up to the surprising end of the story. As a teenager, Joseph has a dream that he will achieve greatness – and foolishly brags to his brothers. While on an errand to Egypt for their father, the brothers sell Joseph to slave traders.

Joseph worked as a slave for a high official under Pharaoh and ends up in prison after false charges were brought against him. Word got to Pharaoh that Joseph can read dreams of fellow prisoners and ultimately is called upon to read Pharaoh’s dreams. As a result, Joseph’s earlier dream of greatness come true after 22 years. He receives a highly favored place, becoming the second most powerful ruler in Egypt.

Fast forward to a bad famine and Joseph’s brothers ending up in Egypt hoping to buy food. Joseph recognizes his brothers, but they don’t recognize him! Chapter 45: the big reveal! Joseph is overcome with joy to see his brothers again! And what does he do? He tells them to go home and pack up their families and their possessions and move to a fertile region in the Nile River Delta. They would be safe and they and their families would thrive. Thus, fulfilling God’s original promise to Jacob!

If you’re still with me, you hopefully, didn’t miss the part where Joseph forgives his brothers! In fact, in Chapter 50 Joseph tells them, “You intended to harm me, but God intended it for good to accomplish what is now being done, the saving of many lives.”

He forgives his brothers! He forgives them. I’ve heard the story before but this particular Sunday, it really captivated my attention. There is so much to this story! I write about hope and healing. This is certainly a story in that vein! But really . . . how?!

That’s God’s amazing grace. Joseph had a dream as a boy. He clung to that through everything he endured. What about Jacob? He waited even longer for his promise from God come to fruition!

Did their belief ever falter? Surely! Did their faith grow thin? It must have. But they clung to God’s promises. And when God’s promise to Jacob came true, He extended the same grace to his family that had been extended to him.

I’ve written three books about God’s grace, and the hope and faith of the title women. I guess that’s the real draw of the Bible for me. It’s that God’s hand and the people He ordains to reflect His grace are written all over every page. If you’re a Christian, you probably already know all this. But maybe you haven’t revisited some of these incredible stories in a long time. God knows what He’s doing! He doesn’t always fulfill His promises on our timeline – but rather on His. Our challenge is to trust, keep our faith, and to expect His grace to get us through to His appointed time.

#Biblestories #Christianwriter #gracefaithhome

Here’s the thing… I didn’t sleep well Saturday night. I was feeling sick-ish Sunday. As the day wore on I felt a bit better but not really “go live ready.” But it was the perfect day. I had a great message. I could introduce myself to the community. Monday would have been OK—any day would have been OK. But Sunday, National Booklover’s Day, made sense and I was determined to do it.

And I did. I knew how to go Live. Just not on Substack. The first time through I failed to press “Go Live.” Ughhhh. I took a deep breath and remembered what my wise friend told me at one point after my new website literally blew up and a host of other things went wrong that contributed to the delay in my launch. She said something to the effect, “This book is going to touch a lot of people and have a huge impact, because there are forces that seem to be working against the word getting out.”

Never being one to back down from a challenge, I readjusted my camera, resituated myself in my chair, and hit Go Live. Done. I felt great about it. But I didn’t know how to save it correctly. Again . . . Ughhhh. LOL! But I figured out some semblance of it all and I think I have not only a podcast-type version but also a video version. I also have a few great clips – I should have saved more of them, but I was completely rattled!

Fast forward to yesterday. I spent a good part of the day learning how to do something in my CRM platform. And I realized something pretty profound. I used to be brave. I used to be fearless. I used to feel capable and bright and self-sufficient.

Life happens, though. If we don’t guard our light, it starts to dim. Over the last couple of years I had started to feel helpless because I had some physical limitations (OT and PT helped me work through those issues). Then I came down with a potentially life threatening health issue. And I felt defeated. I was tired of fighting to get back to normal. I allowed myself to start fading. I believed I no longer had the brain capacity to figure things out. I hadn’t for a few months, but things got better as I healed.

Sunday there was a shift. Sunday I took back control of my life! I tackled something challenging and received high praise from a coach and a friend who has been with me through much of this recent journey.

I’m finding my way back! It feels good. I am stoking that fire! I’ve reclaimed my power! It feels so good! I still have a way to go, but I’m going! Feedback I received from a reader gave me about Woman Afflicted for Twelve Years was the extra push I needed! He loves the book! He has used it as a daily devotional. I intended to write the book for others, and I did. But it was also for me. It is all about keeping hope. The namesake of the book demonstrated tremendous courage. She risked everything in one final leap of faith.

She’s my heroine. So are the women after whom my first two books are titled, Woman At the Well and Woman With the Alabaster Jar. Unnamed. Yet their stories were preserved for two thousand years. Hope prevails! So does courage. So does boldness. So does faith.

I’m back! I’ve got a lot of work to do and now I’m ready! I invite you to join me on my journey back to me!

I don't like waiting in a drive thru line, I don't like being stalled in traffic and I really don’t like waiting for a slow elevator. I’m so impatient that I often pop a pod in the Keurig while I’m waiting for the pot to brew.

I don’t like waiting to heal. Especially healing. I spent close to two years—two 9-month stints in physical therapy one time for a fall, then a second time for another worse fall that Included a broken nose. It was grueling. I am basically a lazy person — there I admit it. I’m not even really embarrassed. It’s just a fact. Lazy isn’t really accurate. I’m just loathe to do anything that doesn’t offer instant gratification. Oh I do the things that need to be done. Just not with a lot of joy! LOL!

But the discipline required to actually get up and out of the house to go to PT and then to actually endure what felt like torture at first, then just challenging (in a good way) as time went on? I was impatient through it all. I wanted to be able to wave a magic wand and be able to walk again, without feeling dizzy. Without losing my footing. To go a mile, just because I could. Without falling for heaven sakes!

Then… last Christmas some serious health issues started. Symptoms were gradual but my husband had noticed. He had watched as I got a little sicker every day.

Finally, he convinced me to get checked out. Primary care doc had no appointments that day. Nor did the on-call doctor. He ultimately took me the ER at a hospital we have always preferred.

The place was packed! I checked in a found two seats as he parked. Check in was prompt and I was sent back out to the waiting room. And we waited. And waited. As each person who had been there when we arrived had been triaged, admitted or sent home, I grew more and more impatient. I mean it was a couple of hours! And I was weak as a kitten!

Ultimately an ER doctor came sprinting out to ask me if anyone had ever told me I had kidney disease! Ummmmm.. nope! I was admitted to a private room in the ER. Blood drawn. More tests run. Then lots of waiting.

I spent the night there. At some point, a very tall man in a white coat came in and introduced himself as “my nephrologist.”

I’m sure I looked puzzled. “Your kidney doctor. Not expecting that, were you?”

I was admitted once a room was available (waited about 24 hours …) diagnosis was Acute Kidney Injury (AKI).

Day 2 the doctor said my numbers were so high upon admission that had my husband not insisted on taking me to the ER when he did, I would have been on dialysis it “not here” within a couple of days!

It was a crazy time. Numbers dipped a tiny bit and I was stabilized but the numbers were still too high! And they would not go down. Ten total days in the hospital. Biopsy. Inflammation of unknown source. Still no idea what caused it!

Ten days dragged on. Lots of needle sticks for bloodwork. Lots of IVs. Lots of waiting for a report on those numbers. Lots of waiting for the nursing shift change so I would have some sort of sense of time and day.

At home, those numbers started to drop! New antibiotics. Reduction of some current prescriptions. I researched kidney-friendly foods and completely changed my eating habits.

Five months later there are still some lingering effects - low hemoglobin levels for which I have a specialist appointment. Other numbers are “reasonable” but not near zero.

I wanted to come home and be normal! I wanted to start doing all those things I had no energy to do over the previous months. But it didn’t happen. I had severely swollen ankles and was still pretty worn out. It took time. I’d go weeks before I noticed an improvement. Then days. Some mornings now I wake up and literally know I’m “better.”

One day recently we had decided to go to the polling place and vote early. We were rushing out the door and I reached for these pink tennis shoes without a second thought. I hadn’t been able to wear them in months. But they fit! No swollen ankles! And I realized it had actually been a couple of weeks since I’d had such swelling I could only wear clunky old athletic shoes!l with compression socks. They fit!

I’m a bit better about waiting these days. I’m still impatient sometimes with the pace of life, but I try to catch myself to reframe the situation. There is still some testing to be done. Still some healing to occur. But I’m improving daily. Soon it will happen hourly! I believe that! Waiting isn’t fun but sometimes it’s necessary so our bodies can heal and doctors can figure out what’s wrong and how to fix it.

One thing all this has taught me is that things take as long as they take. Another is that most things really are worth waiting for. Finally I’ve learned that it’s definitely about my attitude.

Wait for it. It will all work out the way it’s supposed to. Better to expend my energy doing my part in the waiting. I’m a work in progress but I like to think I’ve gotten better about it.

Her book was a huge success. She had her name and face (and book) on a billboard in the area. She had multiple speaking engagements. Her business was booming!

I asked her how she had done it. Her answer: make a 300’s list.

She said that years ago she had made a list of everything she wanted to happen. Big stuff. Little stuff. “Reasonable” stuff. Some over-the-top stuff. EVERYTHING! Then read your list every day.

Call it manifesting. Call it a wish list. Call it praying (I do).

James 4-2 in scripture tells us we do not receive because we do not ask God—with right motives.

Making a list allows us to wrangle all those scattered wants and wishes rolling around in our mind. It doesn't mean magic is going to happen (though sometimes it seems like it)!

The list reminds us what we need to work toward, what needs to be done to accomplish our items to check off as done.

It’s a great way to get life organized. You can even “play a game” of sorts: figure out how many items on your list will be impacted by what you do for one of the teams. How about betting with yourself about how many you’ll heck off in a year.

I had started a list a few years ago. I can't find it now--I didn't want to spend more time looking for it. I'm in a different place now than I was back then.

But I know it is valid. My friend is still out there killin’ it. I’m going to ask her next time we chat how many items she’s checked off.

I never did ask her why she put 300 spaces on her list. But for me it will be a challenge initially, and give me a placeholder for new items to be added, as well as a tremendous sense of accomplishment as I check items off.

We’re on a long drive to visit family so I’m going to use some of the time riding in the car to work on my list. I’ll keep you posted!

Here’s the thing . . . it’s always in the back of our minds. The more time goes by, the less we think of it, but one day, something happens, and we’re reminded that story is still waiting to be written.

Almost 20 years ago, I wrote my first book, Woman at The Well. I spent years and years, doubting myself, asking friends for affirmation. I went back to the manuscript probably a hundred times. Until the day a long-time mentor and friend asked me, “How many times do I have to tell you that your writing is excellent and needs to be shared?” The answer, of course, was, “When my mind believes what my heart is telling me.”

I realized to finish the book, I needed to “just do it.” So, I used three methods to get from a very thin draft and no outline to Done! Published!

1. (1) Write at least a few minutes every day. Pick a time. Plan it. Do it.

2. (2) If the part of the story you’re working on is too tough to write, work on another part. (But keep working!)

3. (3) Expect distractions and plan ahead a game plan to counter/deflect them.

I love to write — I’m called the Word Wizard because of my love for the beauty, magic and power of words! I knew I wanted to write a second book. I wasn’t sure what it would be about. I had overcome uncertainty and self-doubt so I knew it would have impact just as the first one did.

Then my mom died. Talk about a distraction! It took several years to work through the grief and all the big feelings that can overtake us when life throughs us for a loop. I finally started. And stopped. And started again. Then one day, I got a sign that I was on the right track and needed to keep going.

I identified in Woman With the Alabaster Jar, that we can grieve the death of a loved one, beloved pet, loss of a job, end of a relationship. It manifests itself in many ways. No matter what a reader was going through, I knew they could relate to the book. It was tough at times because, well, it was about grief! Most important, though, is that I kept going. I finished it!

Ten years later . . . COVID . . . that was the impetus for book #3, Woman Afflicted for Twelve Years.” Too bad I didn’t apply my own tips to my process! I had so many fits and starts! It honestly took the encouragement and accountability of a couple of friends for me to get back to it and commit to finish it, But it’s done! I’m not going to sit on that victory! I have quite a few writing projects lined up and I’m going to keep at them until they’re finished too. One step at a time!

Do you need encouragement and accountability? Join us inside Writer's Haven, my online community, where writers gather to write, learn, and grow together.

Both 2025 and 2026 have been challenging years, but this year was especially frightening—I literally came close to death or permanent disability. According to my doctor, I was only a couple of days away.

Most of 2025 was spent recovering from two serious falls. The first required months of physical therapy. Then came a second, even more serious fall: a broken nose, a badly sprained right leg, and a deep, lingering fear of falling again. Add another long stretch of PT to the mix, and it became a year I was more than ready to leave behind.

This year brought something entirely different—a condition that could have turned life-threatening had my husband not insisted on taking me to the ER.

The waiting room was packed. We were lucky to find the last two empty seats. One thing I despise about emergency rooms is the literal fear of germs floating freely through the air, shared with everyone in proximity.

I was called back fairly quickly for intake, but after that, we waited. And waited. And waited. I’m not sure how much time passed, but it felt like hours. As every person ahead of me was triaged and treated, impatience slowly gave way to fear.

Then a doctor hurried out to speak with me and asked if I had ever been told I had a particular condition. (Thankfully, it wasn’t contagious.) I had never heard of it before and confusion turned into real fear, the kind that feels almost surreal. Even stranger: it had nothing to do with the reason I had originally gone to the ER.

Several hours later, after finally being moved into a private room in the ER, the specialist came in and explained results of some preliminary tests. It definitely was not on my dance card for 2026. That was also the moment I learned my determined—and by then thoroughly exasperated—husband had very likely saved my life by insisting I come to the hospital.

It sounds melodramatic but isn’t. It was dramatic, though.

I spent ten days in the hospital. And honestly, do you know how sick you have to be to spend ten days in the hospital?

Ironically, there wasn’t much improvement during those ten days. My condition didn’t get worse, but not much better. Healing came slowly afterward—at home, through medications, follow-up appointments, rest, patience, and time. I’m still in “continue to monitor” status, and a few stubborn symptoms remain, but I am improving week by week.

Long story long—remember the title of my book? A book about affliction?

It took me years to write Woman Afflicted for Twelve Years – The Hem of His Cloak. Now, it’s finally finished, published, and scheduled for release at the end of June.

In it, I share my experiences during and after COVID. At the time, I truly believed I would never face a harder season of affliction than those difficult years.

Wow, was I wrong!

Affliction is multi-dimensional. It touches every part of us—physically, emotionally, mentally, and spiritually. Sometimes it looks like sickness or injury. Sometimes it shows up as grief, anxiety, depression, or exhaustion. Sometimes it manifests as a crisis of faith or a loss of identity.

No matter what form it takes, affliction impacts the whole person. That’s why healing must also be holistic. Physical healing may be the most visible: an illness improves, an injury heals, chronic pain eases. But every affliction also carries emotional and mental weight that often goes unseen by others—and sometimes we don’t even recognize it ourselves.

I think the deepest pain of all may be spiritual affliction: faith feels fragile, questions overwhelm us, and we struggle to remember who—and whose—we are. But we cannot remain in that tangled space forever. We have to find our true north. For me, that true north is my faith.

So much of the last two years involved afflictions beyond my control that I had to believe something meaningful could still emerge from them—that I could become stronger, healthier, wiser, and more intentional. And somehow, I did.

There’s the book. A new website about to launch. A new collaboration with two dear sister-friends beginning soon. All of it has taken time. All of it still is.

Of course, there have been smaller afflictions along the way—delays, tech problems, setbacks, ordinary life interruptions. But after being refined in the crucible of larger hardships, I’ve learned that not every obstacle is catastrophic. Sometimes a delay is simply a delay. A tech issue is just a tech issue. Life is still life.

And still—joy comes.

Healing happens.

Peace settles in.

Not because life suddenly becomes perfect, but because grace somehow meets us in the middle of it all. I wrote in one of my earlier books that my faith is now “on purpose” and “in spite of.” That remains true today. I know who holds my life in His hands.

Because of that, I’m excited about what’s ahead.

Things are turning around.

And if they turn again, my prayer is that I will remember how I made it this far.

When the road gets dark

And you can no longer see

Just let my love throw a spark

And have a little faith in me

(Chorus)

And have a little faith in me x4

https://genius.com/John-hiatt-have-a-little-faith-in-me-lyrics

This song was written and is sung by John Hiatt. I heard it on the car radio several days ago as I drove to an appointment. I had been about “worded out” as I was winding down working on my book, so I just copied down the singer’s name and the chorus so I wouldn’t forget.

While this song is about a woman the singer loves. (It’s a quiet song—not overproduced or loud—tender and quiet.) The singer is offering himself to her as a “safe space” and soft spot to land. He mentions that he’s been loving her a long time.

As Hiatt sang the chorus, my thoughts turned to God and the depth of His love for us. He, too, is waiting for us when we’re in the darkness. He, too, longs to light a spark in us—of hope, healing, comfort, grace.

It’s a hauntingly beautiful song, but not as beautiful as God’s love for us. He wants to be our soft landing and safe space.

In the world today, it’s tough to find either—let alone trust anyone to truly care for and about us, God does both without condition except one: have a little faith in Him

What if I told you, “I get it?” What if I told you I understand that you don’t think anyone even cares what your story is, let alone would want to hear it, read it, or find out how you got from there to here and now. I thought that too at one point! And yet, you’re here now, reading this!

More than likely, your family and friends have shrugged it off when you shared you might write a book, a blog, a short story, a poem. If they did pay attention, perhaps they discouraged you from doing so, because they knew some of the details of what you could write about – and they were uncomfortable or embarrassed about the topic, the story, maybe even their participation in it! Maybe they just plain didn’t think you had the ability to write, or they believed it was inappropriate to tell your story. Well, author Anne Lamont puts it this way, “You own everything that happened to you. Tell your stories. If people wanted you to write warmly about them, they should have behaved better.”

So let me share of bit of my story! It’s only fair, right?

I’m the oldest of 5 children from an Irish Catholic family, growing up in the 60s. I thought my parents were pretty “regular” at the time but realize now they were pretty remarkable. They both did things that were brave and unusual for the time and created a legacy for their children! Don’t get me wrong! They were far from perfect parents, and they were definitely flawed and wounded human beings. But aren’t we all?! My parents both had – and instilled in their children -- a deep desire to make a difference in the world. Not by making a big splash, or grabbing the spotlight (that was bragging, after all!), but by being a good person, by speaking up for what was right, by defending those who didn’t have a voice, and by always ensuring that everyone we met felt like they mattered.

While not everything I inherited from my parents were optimal for mental and physical health, the gifts I received from them, have everything to do with who I am today and how I got here. What are some of those gifts? I have a keen interest in others’ stories—I’m certain my parents never met a stranger – and neither have I!

I inherited the storytelling gene from my dad’s side of the family, and my sharp wit from my mom’s. I am devoted to my own family – sometimes to a fault! I revere the spirituality of my Christian faith but also relish the history and beauty of it. I walked away from it for over a decade, years ago, but found my way back.

Maybe your family, didn’t produce a legacy worth cherishing, a childhood worth celebrating. Again! I get it! And maybe you—like me over several decades—made some poor choices and did some really stupid things. Maybe people you cared about hurt you and people you thought loved you wounded you so deeply, you didn’t think you’d ever heal. I get that too.

In the book of Psalms, David writes in Chapter 139 “for it was You who created my inward parts; you knit me together in my mother’s womb. I will praise You because I have been fearfully and wonderfully made”.

And just like David’s psalms, your story possesses the capacity to inspire others. Your story matters because it can give another person hope. You have the ability to give someone something to cling to in their darkest moments.

I’d like you to take a moment and think about a biblical story that has made the biggest impact on your life? Which one do you call to mind when you need encouragement, courage, empathy, reminder of God’s goodness and grace?

What if those stories that you turn to and rely upon were never written? What if the Bible was never compiled? What would our faith look like? What would we believe? Without the hundreds of stories in the Bible being told, we wouldn’t know about Noah. Moses. Abraham.

What about those unnamed women in the bible that resonate with me so much! Stories of grace, courage, determination, faith, hope. What about the story of Jesus and His life—His message!

What if your story will have a similar impact on someone who reads it? You don’t think so? Those biblical storytellers didn’t know the impact their stories would have over 2000 years later!

What is your story? What are the memories that linger in your mind? What are the events that shaped you? Who are the people in your life who loved you? Disappointed you? Nurtured you? Taught you how to live in the world? What have you learned from living? What skills have you acquired through parenting, learning in school, volunteering, coaching, organizing, living life?

What are the hurts and hardships still haunting your life? How have you arrived to this day and time? What was that journey like? Your story, the twists and turns, the times of great joy and gut-wrenching sorrow are guideposts for others. You navigated it all! You’re still standing!

So, if you’re still standing . . .you are courageous! You’re courageous because every single day, you decided to give it one more chance! That’s not naïve or uninformed! That’s courage! Especially in the face of hardship, grief, loss, rejection, abuse and a host of events and occurrences that left you feeling hurt, abandoned, damaged, voiceless! (FYI: my forthcoming book, “Woman Afflicted for Twelve Years – The Hem of His Cloak,” talks all about affliction!)

You have not come this far to only come this far. You have survived every single day up to this day. And while it is never God’s will for us to be harmed, hurt, forgotten, abused, rejected, silenced, broken, He is capable of transforming it all into something beautiful, powerful and redemptive. We need only to place our story in His hands and allow Him to write the next chapter.

Psalm 139:16 lifts an awestruck praise to God:

“Your eyes have seen my unformed substance;

And in Your book were all written

The days that were ordained for me,

When as yet there was not one of them.”

We were created to do God’s work in the world. Our story is not for us. It is for the world. Our job is to tell it—however that manifests itself, whatever that looks like! Because the world needs our stories. I challenge you today to share your story. Whether you write a book, speak at events, start a blog, begin a ministry, or simply have a meaningful conversation with someone. Whatever that looks like for you!

As the Word Wizard, I empower women to share their stories. To me, writing is worship. Editing is refining the offering. Publishing is setting it free into the world, trusting God to send it where it needs to go. I teach others to write from that same sacred space—to turn their testimonies into tales, their pain into parables, and their gifts into glory. I will meet you where you are and travel with you on the journey to unpacking your story and boldly sharing it with the world.

Words matter. What are the words you’re speaking over your life and into the world? Let’s use a new vocabulary:

Hopeful. Tenacious. Beautiful. Determined. Strong. Courageous.

It’s about DREAMS!

Dreams can be really scary. Sometimes they’re exciting! But have no doubt or illusion: They are ALWAYS hard work! And somewhere along the way . . . something happens that can catch us off guard! And it happened to me!

What’s happened? I’ve become a new person! It’s crazy! Of course, I’m still “me,” but I’m a “new and improved” version of myself! And I like her! Of course, I’m on a journey to be better and better, but I’ve let go of so much that was weighing me down - and that would never have happened if not for my writing my books!

I didn’t set out to change myself! But I think it’s a natural consequence of accomplishing something hard, something important. You gain new confidence. You see the world as both much smaller and infinitely larger when you tall your story!

So, my dream to publish a book was really a dream to tell a story that would help others – and in the process, hopefully, inspire them to make their dream happen! I was so broken and “stuck.” And when the whisper became a deafening call, I wrote – even though I didn’t know if it would be any good. I wrote, because I was made to write. I wrote because I ultimately decided I wanted to heal and move on with my life

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And I’m still a work in progress, but I am currently the best version of myself I have ever been – and I can’t wait to see who I will become! I can’t wait to see who you’ll become either! Go after your dream! Write Your Book! Be tenacious! Be single-minded! Become the best possible version of yourself that is possible!

Poetry is about using our senses, and rhythm and sound in unique and original ways. Poetry gives us permission to be authentic and open and real. Unlike manuscript writing, poetry literally has no rules! Punctuation? Set your own rules! Rhyming lines? Not required.

When we write poetry, we learn to remove unnecessary words and strengthen the imagery we share — to paint a vivid picture. Poetry allows us to explore and experiment in expressing ourselves; helps us be authentic and real.

I’ll be offering a Poetry = Permission to Write workshop at the end of June. If you say, “I’m not a poet. . .” I say, “Perfect. That means you’re exactly who this is for.”

So, in case you need it: I’m giving you permission to write - with abandon, messy, free form, with authenticity and no rules and especially no wrong way to write!

After this workshop, you will have learned how to conquer writer’s block, overcome the dread of writing a “whole” book, and gain so much confidence in your writing. Then maybe, just maybe, we can tackle your book!

If you’d like to see some of the posts I’ve shared about writing — poetry in particular — or read the 30 poems in 30 days I posted in April, check out my Instagram

That’s exactly why I created Writer’s Haven: a welcoming community of women who show up for each other. Every single time. It’s a space filled with encouragement, accountability, creativity, and women who understand that our stories matter.

Writer’s Haven is for women who have lived full lives, gathered wisdom along the way, and are finally ready to share their story.

After working for 55 years, (yep, turning 70 this year) I know firsthand how easy it is to put your own dreams on the back burner. Along the way, I wrote blogs, books, and spoke on stages about navigating life and leaning into our faith. I retired last month, and here’s what I know for sure: maybe we can’t truly have it all at once — but we can create a life that feels deeply meaningful and beautifully our own.

Fondly dubbed “The Word Wizard,” I’ve always loved the power and beauty of words and storytelling. But what I love most is helping women discover the courage and confidence to tell their own stories.

And yes — you absolutely have a story worth telling.

Now may finally be the perfect time to tell it. And I would be honored to help you begin. If you think it might be YOUR time, join us!

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