I stood on the sidewalk feeling like a forgotten pet, a lost child, a jilted lover. My husband had gone to find a free parking spot in busy downtown Grand Rapids, while I ran into the restaurant to check on the wait time. We had picked a special place to celebrate our 38th anniversary, and opted for a “walk-in” since reservation times were limited.
“TWO hours and 15 minutes,” the hostess said. I knew it was an immediate “no” for us. It was already nearly 7:00 p.m. and we were hungry, going on hangry.
I opened my phone to text my husband that we needed a Plan B, and was shocked to see my phone was dead! Although the battery has been waning, this was the first time it had died so early in the evening.
My brain raced to plan my next action. Should I go out looking for my husband who was looking for parking? No. What if he drove by or parked and came looking for me and I was gone? Should I…um…I could think of nothing else. My only “action” was no action—to stand along the street and wait for him.
And so, I waited. Ten minutes went by. Fifteen. Twenty.
Where was he??? Had something happened to him? I knew the man who had been at my side for 38 years would not abandon me. So what was going on? My worry turned to frustration. If we had just taken one of the paid parking lot spots and walked to the restaurant together, I wouldn’t be standing here shivering like a lost puppy.
Finally, across the street, a familiar, tall, bearded man approached, hands in the air in a “What’s going on?” gesture. Relieved, frustrated, cold, and now fully hangry, I didn’t know whether to cry, scream, or laugh. (I can tell you, I didn’t laugh. Not in the moment, at least.)
Several minutes later, we got our stories straight. He had parked the car and tried to text and then call me to find out the status of the wait time. The call didn’t go through so he assumed I was talking to our daughter and ignoring him. (To be fair, she does tend to call frequently—often at inopportune moments—and, like me, has the gift of gab.) But when I told him my phone had died and I had been standing helpless on the street for the past twenty-five minutes, he apologized.
All’s well when it ends well, and our evening ended well with a 10-minute wait for a nice table across the street at The New Holland Brewing Co.
The whole experience made me realize how dependent we have become on those silly, unreliable devices in our pockets. (And that I should carry a portable charger with me!)
Two days earlier, on April 16, 2026 (our actual anniversary), I had kissed Tom good-bye and headed off to Grand Rapids, Michigan for Calvin University’s Festival of Faith and Writing. (Maybe I’m at fault for abandoning him first?)
As a writer, there are many days when—like having a dead cell phone—I feel lost and disconnected. I’m standing on the metaphorical sidewalk, wondering if anyone is out there. I’m feeling utterly alone in this harsh, midlife wasteland.
But then, every two years, the FFW embraces me like my husband’s arms, and fills me up like a satisfying meal—with the words of encouragement I’ve been seeking.
Though it’s impossible to convey the depths of wisdom and inspiration poured out at the festival, I’ve searched my notes (like I did two years ago) to share some highlights with you. Enjoy!
*Note: the following are not exact quotes, but are taken from the notes I quickly scribbled during my sessions. My apologies to any speakers who I may have misquoted.
On Reading
Research is about asking questions—reading broadly and deeply. Laurie Halse Anderson
Write a “syllabus of your life” with the books of your life (the books that shaped you in childhood, parenthood, adulthood, etc.). Kate Albus (author of A Place to Hang the Moon)
In books we remember, we recall characters more than plot because that is who we connect with. Christine Byl
Historical Fiction is not a genre. It is a setting for a thriller, comedy, romance, mystery, and more. Ariel Lawhon
A good book invites readers to examine themselves and how their own moral failings are similar to the character’s. Sarah Perry
When we tell or read stories from others of different cultures or religions, we open ourselves up. Aaliyal Bilal
On Writing
Imagination: The faculty or action of forming images of things not seen.
Creativity: Putting two things together that have never been put together before.
What makes your writing healing? The paradox of sadness and light. Scott Erickson
The “rules” of writing:
Read it out loud.
Find your people.
Find what you write for. Kate Albus
“I have been at home.” (From Martha Ballard’s journals). Ariel Lawhon wrote The Frozen River, based on the real life of Martha Ballard, while at home during the pandemic.
Tips for writing: Sit. Stay.
Adopt anything in the natural world as your teacher.
Take what you see and let others see/recall their experience through you.
The best part of writing: when you forget what time it is. You’re in the flow.
Barbara Brown Taylor
Publishing is the slowest form of gambling. :)
When crafting, you’re preparing a feast. It’s not to build an altar unto oneself, but rather “setting the table” and inviting others to join you.
The internet makes your work extend into dialogue.
Don’t try to do everything. Do a few things and do them well.
Marketing panel: Alexis DeWees, Pete Ford, and Jeremy Wells
On Growing, Learning, Becoming
The process of transformation always begins in the “low.”
Grief is based in the death of future memories. Scott Erickson
The land is our teacher. To be better students, we have to pay attention.
Attention is our currency.
School children recognize 100 corporate logos and less than ten plants.
Attention ➡️ Intention ➡️ Action
Robin Wall Kimmerer
Faithfulness is a long obedience in the same direction. Ariel Lawhon
We all suffer from a lack of grief literacy and language. When supporting those who are grieving, we can become the “connective tissue” that holds us together.
Grief ➡️ Lament ➡️ Transformation
J. S. Park
At my husband’s and my ages, what I look forward to is going to dinner. I wake up in the morning and the first thing I say is, “Whew! Thanks.” 😅 Barbara Brown Taylor
The festival was an uplifting time of listening, learning, and loving the power of words. Words connect us, whether in person, by text (when our phones aren’t dead), through newsletters, or in books. As a writer, reader, and person of faith, during the festival I experienced that deep sense of connection. I felt seen.
And, my dear reader, that is what I wish for you!
Have you read any of the authors quoted above? Any favorites?
Which quotes inspire, encourage, or connect with you?
Would you let me know you were here? Just hit the 🖤 !
Happy Anniversary!
Wonderful memories of the Festival! You were able to capture the spirit (and wisdom) of so many writers. Thanks Linda. May their encouragement propel your writing for the next two years until the next Festival!
Carol