I am in a season where words no longer feel effortless for me. I used to sit down and fill an entire page with confident, concise words. I knew what I wanted to say and I knew my target audience, and I had no doubt that what I had to say would be a blessing to someone. And it was. And then life happened. I have fallen on my face many times. Gotten up. Brushed myself off. And then fallen flat again. Sometimes I bounce back up, but more often than not, I have stayed fetal. Curled up. Protected my organs so to speak. Bruised, peering around, unsure if there's any use to use my words. Decided there wasn't a use and tucked my head, grasped my knees, and stayed down, because there was too much in my head. Too much to sort out. Too much that I was unsure about, so I convinced myself I had nothing worthwhile to say. A lifetime of bouncing up and not processing what things meant had made me weary. So I stayed down. This became my normal reaction over the past ...