So here I am. Writing.

It was the summer of 2008. Jon and I were attending the Iris Harvest School of Missions in Pemba, Mozambique. Shara was one of the missionaries working closely with Rolland and Heidi Baker, a young lady who always dressed and made up her face like a princess, even in the middle of Africa. She taught many of the sessions at the school and she had a powerful prophetic gift, so she would often pick people out of the crowd and give them words as she heard from God. One of those times, she singled me out. “Carla, I see a huge quill pen behind you, I think you’re supposed to write.” I know she said more than that, but that’s all I remember and that was the gist of it.

So here I am. Writing.

At some other point that same trip, we were in South Africa renewing our visas and we attended a worship/prayer night at the guest house where we were staying. A man we had never met before (and whose name I don’t even remember) said he also saw a picture of me, but he saw me as a giant pencil. He thought I should be writing.

So here I am. Writing.

It’s taken 3½ years to even start trying to obey those words given to me; I never knew what to write before.  Still, I think somehow my experiences are supposed to teach, encourage, or challenge others somehow, some way.

So here I am. Writing.

I have several friends whose blogs I follow consistently and frequently find myself edified and challenged, so I figured this was a good medium for trying to do the same.

So here I am. Writing.