Writing, for me, had become as routine as breathing—so natural that I barely noticed its presence. But somewhere along the way, I'd forgotten the unique cadence of my writing voice. It’s been said to me, on more than one occasion, that I downplay the successes in my life. The past few weeks have made that almost impossible.

When I wrote the column titled, ‘The complex role of churches in my life’, the only thing I’d worried about was people feeling as though I were attacking a sacred part of their lives. Those who reviewed the column for me ahead of time warned me about impending invitations to churches. I didn’t expect the shared stories or the request from church leaders on how they can do better in addressing extreme poverty. The Eating Church left an impression on quite a few people.

Recently, I began a project that required me to ask for help from many people. I needed them to lend me their voices to bring a story to life. A group of us sat in a circle and read the script of the first episode. On multiple occasions, the vocalists had to pause because they were laughing too hard to continue. One local artist wants to turn the story into a graphic novel. To take the project a step further, I applied for and was approved for a grant.

Life keeps me humble, though. My granddaughter is three years old and enjoys, and expects, a bedtime story. Believing in my storytelling ability, I spun a tale of princesses and adventures. My granddaughter, with the wisdom of a seasoned critic, interrupted. She toddled over to the bookshelf, retrieved Margoret Atwood's Handmaid's Tale, and insisted on a 'real' story.

Not everyone feels the same as my three-year-old literary critic. A woman I’d never met stopped me at the grocery to thank me for writing a column that made her feel less alone. At that moment, I felt like Sally Field at the 1985 Oscars—validated and seen. It reminded me that finding my voice wasn't just a personal victory but a bridge to others who felt similarly unseen.

That’s what this whole process has been about. I wrote the columns to share how far I’d come in both my mental health, and just overall growth as a person both spiritually and financially, but also to share it’s okay to not be okay. None of us came equipped with instruction manuals that taught us how to navigate the lives we were born into. 

Thank you for reading about the unorthodox journey that brought me to Kinston, where I found success, happiness, and a community.