As long as I can remember, I've been fascinated by the way words and images move our emotions, hearts, decisions, and journeys onward, upward, forward, or back. The second born daughter of the most well-intentioned and unintentionally misled parents (aren't they all?) I've spent the better part of my adulthood deconstructing faith, my role as a woman, my identity as a mother, my desire to be a writer, and my hope in a future that is largely invested in my three sons and mostly hinged on my own ability to lead or lay down when it is no longer my time. 

Writing, speaking, creating art, and building communities of words and action are the heartbeats behind the ways I create, breathe, invest, and enjoy this re-wilded life I've found as a runaway creative.

I am a teenage bride, a child mother. An accidental entrepreneur. I am a storyteller. I refuse to be defined by my day job. I have my father's smile. I carry my mother's laugh and loss around my eyes. I am sister to many; a long time lover. I am lucky to have and to hold (open palmed, always willing to see where the wind blows and what is meant to go) the tender hope of a redemption story. 

I want to write my way out of the walls I was told would contain me. I am. I have.