Author

I did not set out to become an author. In fact, for a long time, I did not believe I had anything worth writing. But God has a habit of using the parts of our story we think are too ordinary to matter. One day, sitting at my kitchen table with a cup of tea and a heart full of things I had learned the hard way, I picked up a pen. And the words began to come.

What I discovered is that writing is simply another form of serving. Every book I have written began as a burden — something I wished someone had told me in a hard season, a truth I had to learn slowly that I wanted to make easier for the next person. I did not write because I had answers. I wrote because I had been found, and I wanted to point others to the One who found me.

Over the years, the books have added up — devotionals, memoirs, Bible studies, reflections. More than thirty now, each one a small offering laid at the feet of the God who gave me the story in the first place. And the most humbling part has been the letters. A reader who found hope in a chapter. A widow who felt seen. A young woman who decided to keep going. Those letters are the real reward.

Writing has also taught me that our pain is never wasted. Every season I would have skipped — the grief, the waiting, the loss — became material for a book that helped someone else through their own. God does not waste a single tear. He collects them, refines them, and turns them into words that heal.

So if you have a story burning in you that you think is too small to tell, let me encourage you: write it anyway. The God who wrote your story wants to write through your story. You never know whose life might be changed by the words you were afraid to share.