Susan LaffertyWinter grey. And snow remains. On the edges. In corners.
Hidden from the sun. By shelter and shadow.
Held captive by cold. Temperatures never rising quite far enough.
Winter’s fringes remain visible today. From where I sit. Looking through glass.
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.
Enemy at the gate. In our everyday lives. Enemy of our souls–the deceiver.
Making promises that entice. Feeding our longing for things to be easy. Comfortable.
Highlighting our fears of future unknowns. Making us wonder about God’s good purpose. His ordained plan.
Sometimes it’s tempting to give in to the lie. What sounds better. Almost true.
