Starting in the Middle of the Story

My apologies, I should have stared this blog weeks, months, even years ago. I am diving into the narrative of my early adult life quite in the middle of many tales, and we have some catching up to do.

For starters: Hello, I’m Victoria (or Tori, or many other numerous nicknames which have stuck over the years).

Those are the Rocky Mountains behind me (and if you look very closely you can actually see the Beartooth Mountain for which this particular range is named. I grew up in Montana with the mountains always solidly on the horizon, and they mean a lot to me.

I am a middle child (and am utterly blessed to be so, but that’s a different post).

I am headed to Germany next month (that’s like 25 different posts of explanation).

I love Christ, my family, my friends, my life in general. I love the moments and memories I make every day. My life is not perfect, indeed there are many struggles I face, but it never overshadows my blessings. 

But I am often very bad at expressing those sentiments. I am, in a group of people, the listener. And I like it this way. I like listening to people’s engaging stories and ideas. (Mine are, after all, not novel to me).

And when I do speak up? I tend to tell rather bare bones stories and spinning a tale isn’t really my forte. Yet when I write it out, well, then I get ironically verbose. But once I give it a few edits I think it actually turns out rather well. I really do say most things better in writing.

So here is me writing. Writing and hoping that what I say imperfectly aloud might be given its full, or at least better, due on paper (or glowing computer screen, whatever.)

Thanks for listening,



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