This Pen Is My Passport.
One of my earliest memories is of me learning how to write my name for the very first time. Miraculously, I still have those scribbles.
That first encounter with words started my stack of journals. Every journal a new chapter, every page a new lesson.
I’m so thankful for the places I’ve been–physical and emotional. And I’m equally thankful to pens of all sorts that have helped me sift through life, word by word, sentence by sentence.
Mostly, I’m thankful to my Father for the gift of writing and the places it has taken me.