Three years ago, Tobi Hough and I embarked on a somewhat spontaneous adventure. The Speak Up Conference in Grand Rapids, Michigan, was going back to an in-person setting after Covid and we wanted to be there. With hope in our hearts, knots in our stomach, and two suitcases full of anxious anticipation, we set the travel app to “Destination: Prince Center, Calvin Theological Seminary”.
Now I won’t implicate Tobi in this statement, but let’s just say I had no idea what I was getting myself into. Did I like to write and speak? Yes. Had I been told that my writing and speaking was good? Yes. (Although I admit to questioning the judgment of some. Surely they were just trying to be nice.) I had decided that I was going with an open mind and would simply observe and try to absorb as much as I could. No expectations. Who knows. I might never come back.
Although I’m at times guilty of procrastination, this time I was simply non-participatory. I hadn’t read most of the material to prepare. I certainly wasn’t pitching a book idea or anything remotely resembling a project. But I heard God whisper, “Take the paper you wrote about your dad”. As I was finishing my Healthcare Administration & Management degree in the fall of 2011, I wrote a paper for an English class that summarized on one page what life as Joe Keith’s daughter was like. My professor raved about it and said, “I can’t wait to read this story in print one day”. I have dreams like anyone else and I kept that paper with her note written in red, fine-point ink. I stuffed the paper carefully in my backpack with no real intentions of showing anyone. (But hey, I like to be prepared should opportunities present themselves.)
On Thursday evening, those women who were in the writer’s track met in the Great Hall and randomly sat at tables with other nervous participants. Cindy and Dave Lambert gave some brief instructions and that’s when we learned that a faculty member had been “planted” at each of the tables. Suzanne Kuhn (Brookstone Publishing) was sitting to my left and suddenly I started to realize I was drenched in sweat and probably had splotchy cheeks and chest; my body’s standard reaction to stressful situations. What had ever entered my brain to suggest that this was a good idea? The room suddenly seemed incredibly large and I felt unbelievably small and uncertain.
Each writer presented their single page for critique. One by one, around the table, we listened to the feedback. Suzanne gave the final word and summarized for us in a neat, little package. I’ll never forget her words. “Where’s the rest of it?” I didn’t understand. I thought we were only allowed to submit one page? Then she said, “This is a book. You need to finish this.”
That evening began a journey that I’m still trying to unwrap. This past weekend, I returned for a third time to Grand Rapids. The anointing on that conference was palpable. With yet another Thursday evening to sit with other gifted and talented women, I presented the introduction to my memoir. I definitely have doubt that creeps in and wreaks havoc every once in a while. But I shove it aside and remind myself that I’m answering a specific call from God on my life. Someone needs to hear my story. My story matters, because it’s all about JESUS!
1 Thessalonians 5:11 ~ Therefore, encourage one another and build one another up, just as you are doing.