For as long as I can remember I've wanted to be a writer. Along the way I may not have made the best choices toward my end goal. For example, choosing physical therapy as a major during my freshman year of college. Biology, chemistry, and calculus in one semester? My roommates, some of the most loyal women I know, can attest to the ill-fitting nature of that choice.

So I changed majors and started blogging. Blogging wasn't what it is now. Today, the blogging world has exploded. It is filled with fashionistas, DIY-ers, entrepreneurs, and the like. There are many exceptional bloggers doing amazing things through their sphere of influence. Different seasons found me trying to fit into the mold other bloggers have carved out for themselves. Those attempts, too, were ill-fitting. 

Twenty-nine has brought with it a new season I'm excited to explore. This season has come with questions I've had to confront; most of which concerns what I want with my life and where, exactly, I'm going. But I don't want to talk about those questions today. Chad's sweet birthday gift to me was the promise of helping me give my blog the facelift which it so desperately needs. (He's one of the best gift givers.) Preparations for a new look made me question my writing platform. Where do I want this blog to land in the sea of its companions? What's my edge? 

I then came face to face with the reality that my blog doesn't have an "edge". I'm far from a fashionista, DIY-er or entrepreneur. I just have me, my stories, and the hope that you read them. At first I was really discouraged by this. I questioned if I should drastically reinvent myself or just abandon blogging all together.

But my God uses simple people to do great things. God has given me a story. I want my simple stories to reach others and, if only for a second, resonate in their hearts as familiar. That's my "edge", however dull it may be. I'm okay with that.