“The moment I open my eyes, grace smacks me sideways. Not a breath of this life do I deserve. It’s all completely wild and unwarranted. It’s grace, y’all.”
I’m an internal processor, which means if you ask me how I'm doing, I will gladly answer you tomorrow. It takes me time to process and articulate what all is stomping around upstairs. As if that wasn't enough to drive you bananas, I'm an introvert. Which means if you and I are hanging out on my couch, I'm ready for you to leave a couple of hours before you actually do leave. What if I'm only staying a couple of hours, you ask? Yeah, maybe just stay home. (It's not you. It's me.)
I know, I know. I’m a total winner. The truth is, I'm a mess. Most of the time I prefer to be holed up in bed alone with a mug of fresh black coffee and words. I really really love words. Sometimes my words even make up for that internal processor introvert thing. Sometimes.
More than anything, I'm crazy about grace. It drags me out of my burrow, one crooked step at a time, and allows me to love in spite of my nonsense. I don't always love well. But grace keeps at me. She hasn’t given up yet.
So welcome, to my lair of words and grace and love. It's sure nice having ya. And please, don't mind the mess.