There are seasons in life when our dreams feel out of reach. For me, music and performance were always at the center of who I was. I grew up singing, playing piano, harmonica, and finding joy on stage. But life took some unexpected turns. Living with disability and chronic pain forced me to put many of those dreams aside.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
For a while, I felt lost\u2014like I had been stripped of the very things that gave me identity. That\u2019s when writing entered the picture. At first, it was just for me\u2014a way to express the fears and frustrations I didn\u2019t know how to share out loud. Slowly, those private reflections became poetry. And eventually, I realized these words weren\u2019t just for me; they were for others too.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
God has a way of taking what we see as broken and weaving it into something meaningful. Writing became a bridge between my pain and my purpose. It gave me a voice when I felt silenced by illness. It gave me clarity when confusion and trauma clouded my mind. Most importantly, it gave me hope when despair seemed overwhelming.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Now, as an author, I\u2019ve come to see that sharing our stories is one of the bravest things we can do. Each poem I write is a piece of my journey\u2014a journey marked by hardship but also by resilience, faith, and healing. My hope is that readers find themselves in my words, that they discover courage for their own journey, and that they feel less alone in their struggles.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Pain may shape us, but it does not define us. With faith, creativity, and a willingness to be vulnerable, even the hardest experiences can transform into purpose<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
There are seasons in life when our dreams feel out of reach. For me, music and performance were always at the center of who I was. I grew up singing, playing piano, harmonica, and finding joy on stage. But life took some unexpected turns. Living with disability and chronic pain forced me to put many […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":6931,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-6149","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-blog"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/demoliynks.com\/leannebourgeois\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6149","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/demoliynks.com\/leannebourgeois\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/demoliynks.com\/leannebourgeois\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/demoliynks.com\/leannebourgeois\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/demoliynks.com\/leannebourgeois\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=6149"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/demoliynks.com\/leannebourgeois\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6149\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":6881,"href":"https:\/\/demoliynks.com\/leannebourgeois\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6149\/revisions\/6881"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/demoliynks.com\/leannebourgeois\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/6931"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/demoliynks.com\/leannebourgeois\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=6149"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/demoliynks.com\/leannebourgeois\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=6149"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/demoliynks.com\/leannebourgeois\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=6149"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}