About Me
“I write because words are bridges – carrying us toward hope, toward healing, and toward each other.”
Hello, I’m Terry M. French. I am a husband, father, grandfather, and someone still learning what it means to walk by faith through all of life’s seasons.
I am retired from nonprofit leadership — where I found joy in serving others, building relationships, and trying to leave things a little better than I found them. But in these later years, writing has become my way of continuing that work — not through programs or policies, but through words.
Words that teach me.
Words that sit quietly with grief.
Words that offer hope on hard days.
Words that remind us we are never as alone as we sometimes feel.
My Story
I didn’t set out to become an author or dream I would be one.
Like many people, life took me on a winding road — through joy and sorrow, through seasons of certainty and seasons of deep loss.
In recent years, I’ve known the sharp ache of grief. I’ve lost immediate family members and friends. I’ve watched loved ones suffer in ways words can barely hold.
But I’ve also discovered something sacred in those places: God is present.
Even in the silence.
Even in the sorrow.
Even when healing is slow.
Writing has become part of my own healing journey and maybe, somehow, part of someone else’s too.
What I Write About
My books and blog posts are shaped by what I’ve lived — and what I’m still learning:
- The quiet strength of hope.
- The slow, beautiful work of healing.
- Faith that holds steady even when life feels uncertain.
- Lessons from nature, family, scripture, and everyday moments.
- Nurturing the generations we will leave behind.
I write devotionals, stories, reflections, and children’s books — all with the same heartbeat: to offer comfort, courage, and companionship for the journey.
What Matters Most to Me
I believe words can create space for grace.
I believe stories can help us feel seen.
I believe faith is less about having all the answers and more about trusting the One who holds us steady.
If something I write meets you in your own story — that’s more than enough for me.
Closing Reflection or Gentle Invitation:
Wherever you are on your journey — whether standing strong, walking through grief, or simply catching your breath — I hope you’ll find something here that feels like home.
Something gentle.
Something real.
Something rooted in hope.
Thanks for being here,
Terry