The first step.

Thank you.

Back and forth.

I write. I delete. I write again. I delete again.

A man journeys to the top of a mountain.

He comes back to the ground, and a man asks him,
“What was the hardest part?”

“The first step,” he speaks softly.

I guess that’s how I feel as I try to write to you in this moment. Every emotion in one swells within my mind.

Knowing all attempts at words will fail, I set my expectations on simply taking that first step.

---

My guitar sits next to me as I write this morning.

In between practicing songs, I place it down to process my thoughts, with you, as I think of tonight, and of walking on a stage once again.

In my mind, I imagine it: the incredible red curtains of the Grand Ole Opry lifting to the sky, leaving me standing in the middle of a spotlight, the eyes of hundreds of pews looking on all at once. What was once routine is now a great contrast to the two months of hiddenness my heart has needed. Tonight, I am going to perform again, and the truth is, in the very first moments of tragedy, I found it hard to imagine ever stepping on a stage again.

The moment tragedy came, I knew that my heart had no way to process it. Surrounded by an incredible community, my wife, family, friends, pastors, for the first 30 days, I stayed isolated from the world. I spent most of my time with friends who had stopped by the house, or just me and Jesus. I turned off my phone, and the world, and simply guarded my mind, processing the pain with the people around me.

It’s hard to explain the things I’ve learned through this journey: the intimacy with Jesus I felt, the kindness of community I experienced, the love I’ve been surrounded by, the way I’ve felt God protect me in every single way. There’s so much to this story that I pray, in time, I will be able to share, but for now, my heart just wants to say thank you.

Thank you for standing by me. Thank you for protecting me. Thank you for supporting me when it wasn’t easy to do so. In my isolation from the internet, I would still hear stories of your kindness towards me. The messages, DM’s, texts, comments, and prayers, each one of them filling my heart with a deep level of gratitude. Through the journey of this group, I’ve come to feel like I know many of you over this past year. And as I heard stories of the way y’all cared for me, it gave me a lot of hope. Hope for a new beginning on the other side of tragedy.

I am excited to step on that stage tomorrow night, deeply grateful for the open door of the Opry that has welcomed me with loving arms once again. I’m grateful to get back to work, to rebuild a sense of normalcy, and to connect with each one of you on the road again.

This feels like a new beginning in every way tonight. A restart, a second chance, an opportunity for purpose through the trials I’ve now known. My heart is filled with thankfulness because of that truth. The truth that I now get a chance to begin again, having seen the things that truly matter in life.

Both as I write this to you, and as I imagine the view of that stage tonight, I find peace in my heart at the thought of simply taking the first step.

Thank you for being with me on this journey. I will see y’all tonight.

-Conner