When I signed up for my second writer’s conference, I signed up for the three-day workshop I thought I needed. I prepared, rearranged other workshops, and packed the items required for a productive week. Spurred on by a fresh challenge in life, I rolled up my expectations and tucked them beside the business cards and gift cards.

The conference preparation alone proved a divine appointment, but the drive placed me in a dedicated location for an extended time. That was just what I needed. God needed to get me alone with Him so I could hear His plans.

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Traveling alone, I said my goodbyes to my husband and departed from my home in the Midwest and proceeded to the Blue Ridge Mountains of North Carolina. I would have ample time to contemplate my new writing venture. And my spiritual goals.

The journey sparked my heart’s passion for God’s Word as I listened to the audio dramatization of my favorite novel, Pilgrim’s Progress. I examined my motivation for writing, art projects, and many of the activities I had undertaken without understanding my role or the reason I started so many creative endeavors.

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Don’t misunderstand. I am grateful for the creative gifts the Lord has given to me, but I find that selfish, sometimes prideful emotions swell and overpower my gratitude.

Since I accepted the Lord during my college years, I had embraced a desire to serve and tell others about Jesus. How could authoring a fictional story further the gospel message? What about my art? Should I switch focus and concentrate solely on learning the writing profession?

I would pray for direction. For clarity. And for God to point toward one direction, and help me to let go of some of my many activities and interests.

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But when I arrived at the conference center at Ridgecrest, my rolling computer and book tote jammed with notebooks, gift cards, and the class assignments, the staff let us know of the unfortunate change in the conference schedule. The original presenter of my chosen workshop would not be attending.

I focused on my own uncertainty and personal disappointment. Although I prayed, I wallowed in my loss of control and felt thankfulness slipping. Although I believe all things work together for the good of Him who holds the stars in His hands, and though another author planned to present a similar course, I couldn’t see the big picture.

What I couldn’t see, was God had another plan for my week and perhaps the direction I should take.

After rearranging the choices of workshops several times, cancelling and rescheduling classes, I prayed again. This exercise resembled putting a puzzle together after combining three separate boxes of pieces, overlapping and impossible to fit all the pieces in one picture.

Once I placed the weekend classes and appointments in the Lord’s control, I made choices each day. And every workshop filled a hole and watered the desire to write for the Lord.

The new three-day workshop, The Spiritual Life of the Writer, replaced the original, directed by speaker and author DiAnn Mills, and offered the remedy for my weary soul.

I lapped up the encouragement and planned a summer goal checklist in my bullet journal. I pulled out my Prisma colored pencils and opened my bullet journal. Copious notes adorned my handmade art journal. Coloring, creating, dreaming, penning a Psalm, and crafting a poem for a writer’s praise to the Lord, refreshed my purpose. I jotted ideas as fast as they bubbled through the strategic periods of silence and reflection.