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I love participating in writing contests because 1) it helps strengthen my creativity and 2) it forces me to think in ways I might not have before. Plus, when I create something it can be very therapeutic, especially in this day and age. So… at the last minute I decided to throw my hat in the ring and write a story for the Fall Writing Frenzy contest. The rules: Choose one of the offered images and write a story about it. The age range: kidlit–from board book to young adult. I chose middle grade. The catch: the story can only be 200 words, not including the title. Mine comes in at 195 words. My story was inspired by my recent trip back home to Tennessee where I saw lots of old churches like the one in the photo below. That’s why I chose this photo. I love mysteries and anything that can’t be explained, so I wanted to write a story that was intriguing, yet hopeful. We all could use a little bit of hope right now. An Unexpected Hope By Sheila Alford Something caught Birdie’s eye as she walked past the window of the church. The old, weathered building

I’ve always loved history and when you add in a dash of mystery, well, it makes everything all the better. My Mama’s family was from Paint Rock, North Carolina, just over the Tennessee border from Cocke County, where moonshine is king. As a matter of fact, and as a side note, moonshining has its roots in Appalachia (which, in turn, gave rise to NASCAR, but that’s for another day). When my children were small, I continued the genealogy research that I had begun while in college. That led me to Paint Rock and locating a distant relative. She was gracious in showing me and the children an old family cemetery, and I was able to take pictures and film the occasion for my Mama (I eventually took her back some time later). While there, I discovered that the name “Paint Rock” came from a petroglyph made by indigenous people around 2500 BCE. Since I was never able to find it, I always wondered what it looked like and where it was located. Recently, I found information online, including a photo, and now the mystery is solved. Now, I just need to see it in person. According to Haunts.com, Paint Rock

It might be hope. That’s the title of one of my favorite songs by Christian artist Sara Groves. During the 2008 recession, I was struggling. My husband had just lost his job with no other opportunities in sight. I didn’t know what we were going to do. And then there were the other things going on that put me and my family in the eye of a perfect storm. At that time, I was a stay-at-home mom with two school-age children. Though they were getting older, Christmas was still their favorite time of year. We lived on a street that went all out for Christmas— decorating every nook and cranny with lights, fake snow, and blow-up snow globes. Everything looked joyful and perfect on the outside of our house; but like my life, the inside looked drab and drear. I stopped talking to God. I had never done that before, but I was wounded in ways I didn’t even understand at the time. Why had God moved us all the way from Tennessee to California just a few years earlier? Now my husband was going to be unemployed soon after Christmas. We left everything for this? I trudged out to

I enjoyed participating in the Spring Fling contest last year so I thought I would put on my creative hat and write another story for this year’s contest. The rules: The story should be geared to children 12 or younger. Find a GIF that inspires your story. The word count can only be 150 words or less. Sounds easy, right? But I did enjoy the creative process and it was a good distraction. See what you think. I posted my entry below.   The Park Bench by Sheila Alford The park bench sat empty except for a thin pink-petal blanket. It remembered Mondays when children would run and play after school. On Tuesdays, an elderly couple would sit, feed the birds, and talk. Wednesdays often saw a woman resting with her dog before continuing their walk up the hill. Thursdays, a teenager would sit, read and giggle while she waited on her mom to pick her up. On Fridays, a couple from the office building across the street would sit and eat lunch together. On weekends, many people would come. The bench was a place of rest, relaxation, and laughter. But for now, the bench sat empty except for a

What is hope? What exactly does it mean to be hopeful— especially in such unprecedented, turbulent times? My mind goes back to 2012 when I was barely hanging on. Something happened to me beyond my control and I was suffering physically. I didn’t know whether I would live or die or if what I was experiencing would be my new normal. It was a scary time, to say the least. I began to cling to God like never before, and I found things to watch on YouTube that provided me with hope. Testimonies of people who had come out of excruciating pain or been healed of “untreatable” illnesses gave me hope. I could not watch anything on TV that increased my fears. That meant muting the ads for medication that detailed all sorts of awful side effects. I listened to the Bible on my phone and wrote Scripture verses on notecards that dealt with fear, hope, healing, and other topics. I put the cards all over my house where I could see them. I memorized the verses and hid them in my heart. Some of these notecards are still on my mirrors and walls. One of my favorites is Romans 15:13