Welcome, friend. I'm glad you're here. 

This space holds stories of faith, struggle, and grace-written for those who have known brokenness and are still choosing to hope. If you've ever felt unseen, weary, or in need of a reminder that God is not finished with your life, you are in the right place. These stories are for you.

I write these stories because I lived them. 

I grew up in a fatherless home-my father passed away when I was just a baby. When my mother remarried, I was entrusted to the care of my grandparents. Though I understood the circumstances, understanding did not protect me from the quiet sting of rejection. I grew up in a religious household-disciplined, structured-but inwardly, I was crumbling. Behind the smiles and the laughter, there were wounds. Self-harm, lies, secret addictions-the kind of battles no one saw.

But everything changed when I was fifteen. One ordinary night, at a revival crusade my teacher invited me to, I encountered God in a way that pierced through every mask I wore. For the first time, I met my Father in Heaven-deeply, personally. Joy, peace, and a new kind of life began to take root.

Yet I later learned that salvation is not the end of the story-it's the beginning of a war. Old wounds, unhealed places, unclosed doors-they have a way of resurfacing. And so I fell. Hard. Sometimes even harder than before I believed. But it was in those ashes-the raw, painful, honest places-that God began to write new truths into my heart. It was there I came to truly know Him-not just as Savior, but as Comforter, Restorer, and Father who does not let go.

These are the stories I write. Stories of weakness met with grace. Stories of brokenness met with healing. Stories of a God who rebuilds what life has shattered-and restores beyond what was lost.

If you have ever felt undone, unwanted, unseen, or unworthy-these stories are for you.

Because even in the ruins, God is still at work.