Something new. Blank page of another year. Month. Day.
Unwritten. Unspoken. Unknown by me.
At the open door sits fresh, white snow as far as the eye can see. Waiting for the first footprint.
Looks like hope.
Something new. Blank page of another year. Month. Day.
Unwritten. Unspoken. Unknown by me.
At the open door sits fresh, white snow as far as the eye can see. Waiting for the first footprint.
Looks like hope.
Walk by faith? No matter what’s going on around me?
Somedays, I need to breathe a deep breath. Then take that first step.
It only takes one in the right direction to focus my heart.
Leaving behind preconceived to-do lists. Agendas. And turning to the one thing. Abiding in Christ.
Last year, I saw a random ad for a writers conference called HopeWords. In Bluefield, West Virginia.
Glancing at familiar and not-so-familiar names of presenters, I somehow knew—I’d be there in April 2024.
I recruited my friend and fellow writer to sign up. It’s not like other writers conferences, we were told. But then, having never been to one before—what did I know?
This past week, I’ve been reflecting on those 24 hours of HopeWords Writers Conference 2024. Remembering Bluefield’s generosity: homemade desserts, excellent musicians, rides on the trolley. Considering the words of Travis Lowe, Daniel Nayeri, Mitali Perkins, Jackie Hill Perry, Hannah Anderson, and more.
And feeling thankful for that not-so-random ad.