A White Rose and A Blank Page

FRESH START

Years ago, before my husband and I were married, I gave him a single white rose. Not red—because passion can change with time—but white, because it reminded me of a blank page. I told him our future was like that page: unwritten, open, full of possibility.

Whatever had come before didn’t have to define what came next. Together, we would write our own story.

As I launch this new space, that image has been on my heart again.

A white rose.

An invitation.

A blank page.

A QUIET, STEADY HOPE

Scripture speaks into moments like this with a quiet, steady hope:

“Do not remember the former things or consider the things of old. I am about to do a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?” Isaiah 43:18-19

This isn’t a call to erase the past, but an invitation to loosen our grip on what has been so we can notice what God is doing now. The promise isn’t that something new might happen someday, but that it is already beginning.

LEARNING TO BEGIN AGAIN

My husband and I chose not to let our pasts interfere with the future God set before us. We wrote our story faithfully—imperfectly—but with trust.

And now, having lost him, I find myself once more holding a blank page, learning how to step into a chapter I never expected to write.

I know many of you understand that feeling. Life asks us to begin again more often than we’d like.

WHY KITCHEN TABLE WISDOM

Kitchen Table Wisdom was born from that truth. It’s a place to honor the stories that shape us, the grace that carries us, and the God who meets us right where we are—especially in the chapters we didn’t choose.

So as I open this new page, I offer you the image of that white rose.

Not as a promise that the road ahead will be easy, but as a reminder that God has not stopped writing our stories. He continues to lead, to shape, and to make all things new.

AN INVITATION FOR YOU

What new thing might God be beginning in you?

Where do you sense possibility or renewal stirring?

What blank page is waiting for your courage, your hope, your trust?

This space is my offering—my way of saying that we don’t have to face new beginnings alone.

Pull up a chair.

There’s room for you here.

Let’s step into the next chapter together.

Blessed be, my friend.

Cathy D.


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