I promised ya’ll a great story…and I’m here to deliver on that promise. If you have ever heard the dueling banjos from the movie Deliverance…let it start playing in your mind right now. You will thank me later! (I can’t get the link to upload…and the clip has some terrible language in it so I won’t share it…just google it if you need a refresher!)

This story begins last Friday, July 21, 2017.  We had planned to go camping at a new place and I had made the reservations online. Having never been to this particular campground before, we were not real sure what to expect. Tracy (my sis), her family, and my parents had been there recently and they all had great things to say about it. I’ll spoil this blog by saying…I do NOT have great things to say!

Anyway, it was 98 degrees outside that day. In Alabama that means 200% humidity or sweating weather. We sweat just walking out the door here, so you can imagine how sweaty and hot we were just hooking everything up in order to leave. It was ridiculous. Since we had to wait on Heath to get home from work, we didn’t actually get to leave the house until 5:30 or so. We didn’t even get to the 4-way stop by our house before Heath called and reminded me of two things we needed. I had to get gas in the truck so I went to the gas station then back home while Heath stopped by a store to check on an item that he didn’t even end up buying. When I called him he was ahead of me on the highway so we didn’t see each other again until we were within twenty minutes of the place we were going. He had pulled over and was waiting on me to catch up. When I saw him, he pulled out behind me and we went on to the campground. So far, so good. Right? Right.

We turned into the campground road and followed it way back into the woods. I approached the gatehouse (since I was in the first vehicle) and no one was there. In every other campground we have visited they have a number listed that you call and you can go on to your sight (since we were preregistered). I pulled up and Heath attempted to call the number on the window. No answer.

He told me he couldn’t get anyone on the phone so I pulled out my phone to find the reservation (and could know which number site we were in). I found the info and said, “Let’s just go to our site. We can call them in a few minutes”. So, that’s what we did. Only, this campground had a gate with a keypad that you are supposed to use to get into the main camping area located down the road into the campground. You can’t see it from the main gatehouse. Please…ask me if that code was on my reservation. No, no ma’am it was NOT.

Lucky for us, this gate also had a phone number to call in case you were unfortunate enough to NOT have a code. So that’s what I did. I got my handy dandy little phone out and I dialed that number. A man answered. I told him that we had reservations and needed the code to enter the park. He then proceeded to ask me my name, phone number, address, and site that I had pre-booked. I provided the information…like any good criminal would and asked (nicely) for the code. AGAIN.

The man’s voice starts telling me “Pound, #, #, 5, #, 5). Well, since he was silent between the pound and the number 5 I began repeating him. I figured he was waiting on me during the pauses.

No…no people he was NOT waiting on me.

He was going in and out of service and I was only catching the # and 5. This is when he started yelling. Loudly…#! 5! #!5! #!5!….and I started yelling #5! #5! #5! Back at him. This went on for about 45 seconds longer than necessary because the next thing I hear is this man yelling at me saying: “IF YOU WILL JUST SHUT UP YOU WILL BE ABLE TO HEAR ME!”

Can you just imagine my face? Like, it went from shock…to awe…to LIVID. Just that fast. When I tell you I got mad I am NOT kidding. If you know me you can start laughing right now. Honestly, can’t you just see my face and the rage that immediately took over my entire body. From the ground up I was shooting flames and the thoughts going through my head would have scalded that man’s ears had I let them fly out of my mouth. Thank the LORD he delivered me because by some miracle I didn’t say anything. I simply hung up on the “Uh…Man”.

This is the point where I marched my mad little tale back to the truck where my unsuspecting husband of 21 short little days was waiting. Well, as I approached his window I could tell that he recognized the split second before I threw my phone at him that I was TICKED. He caught the phone and looked at me like I had lost my mind….and I was not far from it at that moment. I told Heath that he could call that Uh…Man (ha!) back and get the code. Otherwise I was going to drive through the freaking gate and he was welcome to follow me. I was past livid as I spun around on my heel and marched back to the truck.

Of course, Heath called and the Uh….Man gave him the code with no problem. Heath calls me, I type it in and head straight for our campsite (that I pre-booked online). Guess where it was? Yep…you guessed it! Right across the flippin’ street from the Uh…Man (ha!).  Ugh…how I wish this was the end of the story. It is not.

The time is now nearing 8:00 p.m. We had a friend of Maggie’s with us so she and my girls jumped out ready to get things set up. We had planned to ride around in the boat for a while before it got too dark. Ha! How silly we were to think we would be able to do that at this point!

As we were getting everything set up (me inside, Heath and the kids outside…all of us soaking wet with sweat again) the Uh…Man drives up on his spiffy little golf cart. He tells the kids that he needs to give me some information. Maggie comes to the door and said, “that man needs to see you”. I poked my head out the door and said, “Well, he can wait. I’m busy right this moment” and I slammed the door.  Poor Heath was just trying to get finished so he could change out of his soaking wet clothes. He heaved a heavy sigh and slowly walked over to the Uh…Man.

At this point all my Dear Husband wanted was food, air-conditioning, and dry clothes. It was late, he had been up since 4:00 a.m. and he was ready to call it a day. Bless him.

When he walked over to the Uh…Man sitting on his spiffy little golf cart he had no clue what was about to happen. The Uh…Man gave him the necessary paperwork for our campsite. He also proceeded to tell him that no vehicles could be parked on the grass. There was a $150 fine PER TIRE sitting on the grass. Until this point, Heath had been cool, calm, and collected. However, now the Uh…Man was saying that his beloved bass boat had to be parked in a parking lot located half a mile away and left there the whole time we were to be camping. Let me just fill you in on a few quick facts about my husband. He is a retired Marine. He is a neat freak. He takes better care of his boat than most people do of their children. He is very close to having full blown OCD. And, he had someone who wanted to buy the boat the next week. Does anyone see where this is going?

After taking time to actually ride down to the afore mentioned parking lot, Heath calls the Uh…Man’s cell phone (yet again) and tells him that his suggested plan will not work. At. All.

Heath offers to rent (at full price) the campsite next to us so that he can park the boat there for the weekend. The Uh…Man says, “No. You have to have a camp structure on the spot for it to be rented.” Heath tells him we have a pop-up canopy and the Uh…Man tells him that it has to have closed in sides to be considered a camp structure. So, basically it was either park at the parking lot where “I told you to park” or nothing. Can you feel that rage building yet?

What did we do you wonder? Well, we put everyone into the truck; rode around until we found a bigger campsite; called that same cell phone number AGAIN; told him we were moving sites; and went back to site #1 to unhook everything and move. Yes, yes we did. The time now is nearing 9:00 p.m.

I’ll save your eyes the pain of reading the next two hours worth of hollering, eye-rolling, sweating, and cussing under our breath. Honestly, it was so bad that I was seriously surprised to see my brand-new husband still there when we finally got everything setup at the new campsite. It was awful. Then, I still had to fix some supper!!

I had planned to cook taco salad for supper, so I pulled out the hamburger meat and tried to turn on the cooktop in the camper. The pilot light would not come on. I tried again. No pilot light. The gas was not working…or we were out. Who knew at this point? The kids were sitting like piranhas on the coach, Heath was pacing back and forth inside the 9,000 degree camper (because we had just now turned on the A/C), and I could not get the flipping gas stove to work!!

Go ahead and ask me if I could find a flashlight…or if the door got slammed and it messed up…or if the hook that holds the rack for towels & rags broke off the bathroom door…or if we got eaten alive by bugs as we set up the outside stuff…or if the bathhouse right across from us was in working order…or if Heath ate more than three bites of the supper that I finally sat in front of him at 10:27 p.m. Please….ASK ME.

At 10:43 I picked up my phone and saw a text message from my sister Tracy. She, my Mama, Emma, and Garrett were in Waco, TX and she had sent me a bunch of super cool pictures. I replied to her text with “So cool!!” and a whole bunch of Smiley faces.

Then, I sent her this text: “We are on the camping trip from Deliverance. Hell. We are in hell.”

To which she replied: “Awe it is so hot outside. What happened?”

I responded: “Do you have like 3 hours?! We are literally in hell. I’m either going to go into hysterics laughing or slap crazy screaming like a banshee.”

She responded: “LOL”. That’s sister code for…Oh Lord…this must be BAD.

The next day didn’t go much better. I had bought a brand new tube & rope to use behind the boat (that I didn’t know was gonna be sold!) and almost got drowned on it. It wasn’t blown up enough, the boat ran hot, the water in the lake was hot, there were 5,000 boats on the water, the wakes were ten foot tall, and the tube had to be held by hand as we ran 60 mph on the water because that’s how bass boats run. I won’t mention the fact that the tube blew out of the boat nearly ripping my little finger off of my right hand, or the fact that the ladder didn’t get put back up and was pounding against the fiberglass bottom of the boat unbeknownst to us, or that when we loaded the boat back onto the trailer I didn’t pull it tight enough and we had to re-load it. Or that the “motor-tote-er” got bent.

 If you are still reading, please understand me when I say THANK THE LORD we made it home in one piece! We woke up Sunday morning like we had fire in our veins! We had that place broke down and loaded up faster than lightning! We could NOT get out of there fast enough. And, do you want to know what the Uh…Man said when he flagged us down…as we were squalling tires to get out of there?

“Glad y’all came! Please leave us a review on this little card here and come back real soon!”

You betcha there, Uh…Man. You betcha! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! Not a rat’s chance!

I wonder where we will go camping next?

In the South there is a certain tradition that has been handed down for generations. Small childen learn about porch sittin’ when they are still infants. In this land where the heat and humidity threatens to wilt even the most callous man, front porch sittin’ began as a necessity. Over time it has become an art.

I was driving home from my parents farm a few weeks ago right around that magic hour when supper is over and dusk is just about to begin. The actual time varies, but around 6:15 p.m. beginning in March and going into early October you can usually drive down any old back road in the South and see people sitting on their front porches. Before air conditioning, it was the best place to escape the heat that was caught inside the house during the day. It was where the cool evening breezes blew and the stiffling heat waffed away. Front porches were rooms where families lived. Peas were shelled, corn was shucked, and beans were snapped while the whole family talked, laughed, shared stories, and discussed ideas for the future…together…sitting on the front porch.

On this particular day I noticed a few people sitting on their porches as I drove by. As I continued driving I began to notice all of the front porches that I passed. Each one of them was decorated with various sized rocking chairs and/or wicker furniture. They had cute pillows and blooming flowers. Some brave souls already had their ferns hanging from the ceiling. Each porch was different, yet beautiful. Each house was built so that the front porch was the welcome mat for the world. Yet, as beautiful as they were…only five of the many that I passed had people actually sitting on them. All five of those people were well over the age of fifty… well more like seventy. And, they all sat alone. I couldn’t help but wonder why?

I continued driving along that Alabama two-lane highway and my mind just kept going. It seems like people these days spend a whole lot of time and money making their porches look pretty and comfortable…yet they never actually SIT on them. I can’t help but think that my generation is missing out on the art of porch sitting and it makes me kinda sad.

The five older folks I saw sitting so peacefully on their porches were doing more than all of us busy young’uns in that moment. Perhaps they were thinking about their day. Maybe they were considering what needed to be done on the morrow. It could have been that they were looking around at what chore needed to be done next. Or, they may have been remembering the people who were not there to sit with them anymore…as well as the ones who don’t take the time to stop for a visit like they should. Nonetheless, they were  all just sitting, enjoying the breeze and the peacefulness of the evening.

I realized in that moment that porch sittin’ is an art. It is one of those things that is passed down from one generation to the next by doing it…not talking about it.

Porch sitting is a way of life that forces people to sit down and just be still.

Front porch sittin’ is slow and easy.

It’s not time for rushing around,

Or looking at our phones,

Or stressing out over things that can’t be changed.

It’s a time to unwind and relax. It’s the time when most things that truly matter get done… by doing nothing at all.

Swings sway in the breeze and rocking chairs creak to and fro as men and women sit silently in them enjoying this simple pleasure. Porch sitting has a way of reminding folks that they are truly living. It reminds them that they are alive. It reminds them to think, pray, and remember. It brings balance and peace. It also teaches lessons that can’t be learned anywhere else.

My generation sure could learn a thing or two from those old timers. We need to spend more time front porch sittin’ and less time on the move. We need to teach our children how to just be still; so that they can teach our grandkids long after we are all gone. We need to learn to slow down before falling (exhaused) into bed at night. We need to learn how to talk about things face to face (both good and bad). We need to laugh at the mishaps that befall us throughout the day. We need to create memories that will last a lifetime. Investing time into our homes and families by just being together doing nothing at all is what its all about.

Yep, I believe that Front Porch Sittin’ is a lost art that should be saved. We still have the knack for making our porches look comfy and inviting…we know how to lay out the welcome mat…we just need to take the time to actually sit on our porches and live a  little more every day.

I’ve been told that I have an old soul…and maybe that’s true. One thing I know for sure: I was a front porch sitter when I was young and I’ll be a front porch sitter when I’m old. Some things are just too good to ever give up.

Photo credit: http://www.crozetgazette.com/2009/05/front-porch-investments/

Last week I saw an advertisement for Hello Fresh and thought to myself, “Hmmm, I wonder if we would like to try this meal plan?” I knew my Maggie would love having new things to cook and I knew that I would enjoy not having to go to the store and decide what to eat (again). We are trying to eat healthier and making a conscious effort to not eat out as much as we normally have for the past few years forever.

Anyway, I decided to give it a try.

Since the girls and I have been home sick the past two days that package was a welcome sight this afternoon! Well, they have been sick…I’m just the single mom who has to take care of them. On the upside…all of my laundry is FINALLY washed, dried, folded, and put where it belongs. A standing ovation and applause are expected here! LOL!

I have to give Hello Fresh an A+ on packaging. Everything was cold and well wrapped. I also loved the fact that each meal was packaged separately. When you have two eager helpers, the ingredients could very easily get mixed up!

Once we wadded through the boxes and instructions we jumped right in and began cooking.

Twenty minutes later this is what we sat down to eat…

We all agreed that the “Melty Burrito Bake” was really good. Linnie did say, “I have to be honest,the bread part (whole wheat tortilla) is not my favorite”.

That’s Linnie code for: I don’t really like it, but I’ll eat it anyway. Thanks Mama.

Gotta love an honest girl!

Overall, we really liked everything about our first Hello Fresh meal. The packaging was super. The food was fresh. The meal was easy to prepare. It was ready in twenty minutes. Both of my kids enjoyed helping. And, with my $40 off coupon it only cost me $15 for this home cooked meal. I say that is a WIN!  Also, there is no contract. If you want to skip a week or discontinue all you have to do is click a button in the handy-dandy app and BAM! it’s done! Pretty cool.

If you are interested in trying Hello Fresh yourself, here is my code for $40 off. Feel free to use it and share! Since I am not being paid for this review…and we are pretty picky eaters…you should feel good about trying it at least once!

Tomorrow we are having “Honey and Soy-Smothered Pork with Roasted Veggies and Rice”. I’m already hungry!

“Get up in that seat right there. Now, that peddle there is the gas. This one is the clutch. You gotta push one and let go of the other at the same time. The SAME TIME…you hear me? Don’t do it to fast, just ease off of that one and give it a little gas. You gotta do it quick though. Don’t let it jerk, ’cause it will die. We ain’t got time to let it die. You just gotta ease off and let it go. Alright, go on now…go.”

Every fiber in my body shook as I took my foot off of that clutch. I held that steering wheel tight and I pushed in the gas peddle as easy as I could. I was eight years old, sitting in a hay field behind the wheel of a three-quarter ton Ford with a half-way loaded hay trailer hooked to the back. My daddy, uncles, and Daddy Jack were all back there behind me tossing hay bales onto the trailer. They needed a driver though…and I was the one who got the job.

I eased my foot off the clutch and stepped on the gas…that old engine roared and the whole truck shook and bounced forward before it died. “I TOLD YOU TO TAKE IT EASY!! YOU GOTTA LET OFF THE CLUTCH AND EASE ONTO THE GAS. I TOLD YOU TO BE EASY! YOU ARE GONNA KILL SOMEBODY!! CRANK IT BACK UP. DO IT AGAIN. JUST EASE OFF THE CLUTCH. EASE OFF IT. JUST GIVE IT A LITTLE GAS. GO ON NOW, WE GOTTA GET THIS HAY UP. DO IT AGAIN.”

My heart literally pounded in my chest. I had to do this right or I was gonna get in more trouble. I took a deep breathe, turned the key, eased off the clutch, and by some miracle managed to give it enough gas to jump forward….but it didn’t go dead! Hallelujah!!

I eased on up and managed to keep it running until I got to the end of the row. I didn’t know how to turn that monster truck and trailer yet. How did you turn it without making it go dead? How did you turn it without knocking all of the hay off? How did you turn it at all? As I sat there trying to figure it out, I jumped as the door slung open and Daddy Jack said, “Scoot over, Girl. I’ll turn it this time. Watch what I’m doing because when we get to the end of this row, you are gonna turn it and you ain’t gonna let it go dead. Ya hear?”

I watched him make the turn. I saw his feet ease off the peddles and I moved quick when he opened the door and jumped out of the moving truck into the hay field. “There ya go, now just ease the gas down a little. EASY NOW, EASY. OK, just keep going down this row. Don’t let it go dead. When we get down there (he pointed towards the end of the long row), you turn it. Go on now…” and he disappeared to the back of the trailer where he joined the other men who were tossing hay bales onto the trailer for my daddy to stack.

That was the day I learned how to drive. It was also the day that I fell in love with driving…and working…and being a farm girl. I never minded getting dirty or working for hours in the hay field. When all of your same aged cousins are mostly girls and you lived on THIS farm…everyone worked like grown men. Honestly, I think it wouldn’t have mattered if we were girls or boys. Daddy Jack expected everybody to work hard and that was that. If the job was there to do, you did it. Period.

He had a way of making it fun though. Like the time we had to haul firewood. He told us to pick it up as fast as he cut it and we did. He went down that tree cutting and stepping as fast as that ol’ STIHL® chainsaw would cut. Me and my cousins were right behind him picking up piece after piece filling up the  bed of that little Toyota pickup truck in no time. He laughed as we fought to be the next one to pick up a piece and kept on a cuttin’ until he had the whole tree cut up.

And, the time he poured the cement for my porches. It was the dead of winter in 2006. Greg was building our log house and we wanted our porches swung all around. Daddy Jack was the best cement man there was and we asked him to pour them for us. Well, the day that they started working on them was freezing cold. We wanted them washed, so we knew it was gonna be a long day before they started around 7:00 that morning. What we didn’t know was that the cement was gonna freeze because the temperature never got out of the low 30’s that whole day.

So, fifteen hours later at 3:00 am when we had all of the construction heaters blowing and the water hoses running to wash the top layer of mud off of the rocks Daddy Jack looks around and says, “Hell, this mud ain’t nothin’ but ice. Look at that…see”. Then he sprayed the water towards me and splashed it lightly on my clothes. I screamed, jumped back into the doorway, and laughed as I shook the water off of the front of my six-month pregnant belly. He pointed at the door and said, “get your little butt back in there where it’s warm. You need to be sleepin’, not washing mud”. So, that’s exactly what I did.

Then, there was the snow. He loved snow. In the eighties we had a snow storm that knocked out power for a week. We played and played in the snow with him that year. Then, in 1993 we used inner tubes from his tractor tires and his little white Toyota (the same one from the firewood hauling) to play on in the field beside his house. We played and built snowmen all over the place. He considered himself a snowman building king. This picture was taken the last time we had a big snow a couple of years ago. He told Paula (his wife) to take a picture and send it to all of his kids so they would know how a real snowman should look when it was built right.

Sitting here tonight my mind is racing between so many memories of my Daddy Jack and me. He was a hard working man. Working… for him, was fun. He set the standard for my whole family. All of us are naturally hard workers because he never let us be anything else. I look through my family and I see his influence on all of us. His wives, his kids, his son-in-laws, his grand kids, his friends. Everyone who loved him works themselves to death because of him. And not one of us would have it any other way.

My Daddy Jack went home last night. He fought a hard battle with cancer over the last year. He left this life surrounded by all four of his kids and his wife at home. Just exactly how he wanted it to be minus the pain he was in.

I can just see the light in his eyes when he saw Greg standing there to greet him. I know there are so many other people who were there to greet him as well, but my heart is happy knowing that Greg was one of them. They had a special bond here and knowing they are together up there brings peace to my heart like nothing else could.

I spent a day with Daddy Jack last spring at his house down by the creek. We sat in his sun room and watched the redbirds play in his yard. He told me that day that he was ready to go home. He also told me to watch for the redbirds, because they were messengers from Heaven. He believed that and so do I. He was the man who taught me to pray. He made sure we knew who God was and he made sure we respected Him. He made a lot of mistakes in his life and he told me that day “that we all do”.

He said, “Mistakes is mistakes. We all gonna’ make ’em. But, when you do, you gotta ask God to help ya make ’em right. He’s the only way. You gonna make mistakes, Girl. Just own up to ’em and keep going. What else can you do?”

A couple of weeks ago he sat up in bed and sang “Jesus Loves Me” out of the blue. My heart jumps at the thought of him singing that particular song. See, that was one of  Greg’s last songs as well. The day we lost him we went to church and we sang “Jesus Loves Me”. It’s weird how God connects things without us even realizing it.

Sadness weighs heavily on my heart tonight. I will miss that old man more than you could ever imagine. I loved him so much and would do anything for him. Looking around my home, I see so many pieces of his handiwork. My dining room table, my island in my laundry room, my table by the door, my birdhouses scattered all around inside and outside. So many things that I cherish because he made them with his own  two hands.

Heaven can’t get here soon enough for me. I long for the day when I am sitting and watching him build something else. Listening to him talk and watching him laugh. Until that day, I will cherish each and every memory I have of him. I will smile when I remember how he yelled at me for some little thing and I will cry when I miss him so much it hurts. One thing I am sure of, he was the best grand-daddy a girl could have and I can’t wait to see him again.

My siblings and I were sitting around talking with my Mama tonight and we discovered a couple of remarkable things. First, we realized that all of our kids have been to more funerals than weddings in their lives. They are all ten years old or younger. Their compassion and understanding of Heaven is amazing and we are so proud of how well they are handling yet another loss. Looking back it is truly overwhelming.

Secondly, we were so touched by the fact that all of my mother’s siblings were with both of their parents when they died. That’s just a very odd thing to happen I would say. We are a tight family, but what a blessing for my Mama and her siblings to be holding first their mother’s, then their father’s hand as they crossed into eternity.

We’ve lost a lot of people in our family over the past year and a half. Daddy Jack was my last grandparent and now he’s gone. If you have your family, please take time to spend with them. Take it from me, you never know when your life could change forever. Love each other as much as you can, because the memories are what keep you going when you don’t think you can go anymore.

Thank you for praying for us always…and especially throughout the next few days. We are sure gonna need them!

Love you all,

Em

As the door closed and softly clinked shut, I sat in my chair and watched him climb into his truck. We had spent the last hour in my living room. Me in my chair. Him on the couch. Me without a shower in three days, hair a mess, and tears running down my face. Him with his crooked grin and more self-assurance than anyone should have at his age.

“It must be nice to be that dumb”, I thought as I watched him drive away. Yet, for some reason I could not get his words out of my head. They crashed into each other over and over racing around in my mind. Was he right? Did I have a choice? And, if I did have a choice…what was it?

I had spent the past five days sitting alone in my home. I had cried and raged. I had read my bible and shouted at God for what He had done. I was angry and sad. I wanted my happiness back. I wanted my husband back. I wanted my life back. I sat there in that chair and I prayed like never before. I pleaded with God to make me whole again. I needed to know that I was going to survive, but I didn’t want to survive. I wanted to curl up and die. That’s what I wanted. The desire to live had left me on that September day and I could care less about living….for me or my girls. I just did not care anymore.

But, God has a funny way of changing our minds sometimes. He had lead me to the book of Jeremiah so many times lately that I was becoming obsessed with his story. Two days before he had lead me to Jeremiah 33:10-11. This is what it says: “This is what the Lord says: ‘You say about this place, “It is a desolate waste, without men or animals. Yet in the towns of Judah and the streets of Jerusalem that are deserted, inhabited by neither men nor animals, there will be heard once more the sounds of joy and gladness, the voices of bride and bridegroom, and the voices of those who bring thank offerings to the house of the Lord, saying, “Give thanks to the Lord Almighty for the Lord is good; his love endures forever.” For I will restore the fortunes of the land as they were before,’ says the Lord.

As I sat there and watched Greg’s friend leave my driveway, I realized that something needed to change. He had just told me some pretty hard things that honestly I needed to hear. I can say that now; a whole year later. Our conversation that day changed everything for me. I sat there and cried as he told me that Greg would not want me to live like this. We both knew he would have been disappointed to see me sitting there trying to let the grief kill me. Those words cut me to the bone, but I needed to hear them.

I sat there in my chair and looked around. All of my Christmas decorations were still out. My books and papers were scattered on the table beside me. I was wrapped up in Greg’s blanket and I needed a shower. How had I let myself get this low? I remember thinking that I had no idea where to start living. He had just told me that I needed to figure it out…and I guess he was right.

It was New Year’s Eve and I had no plans. My kids were at the farm and I was alone. I wonder what other 37-year-old single women do on New Year’s Eve? I had spent the last 17 New Year’s Eves with Greg. What was I supposed to do without him this time?

Then, I remembered. My favorite local band was playing downtown that night. I wondered if any of my friends were going so I made a few calls and sent some texts. They all had plans. Of course they did…I mean who waits until 4:30 on New Year’s Eve before making plans? Obviously just me.

What was I gonna do? I could sit here in this chair by myself all night and pretend that I was gonna start living again tomorrow…or I could get up, take a shower and go downtown by myself.

Alone.

So, that’ s just what I did.

My nerves almost got the best of me. I almost chickened out. I almost gave in to the fear of going out alone…but I did it anyway. And, guess what? I had a wonderful time! When the Frog dropped at midnight (it’s a small town thing)…I stood on the street surrounded by people and as the fireworks scattered across the sky I was hugged and kissed by several sweet friends who joined me with tears in their eyes. This was a new year. A new beginning. Time to start over…and I wasn’t alone.

Sitting here today one full year later I am in awe of the things that God has done. He has brought me through some pretty rough waters over the past 365 days. He has also blessed me beyond measure. I can’t believe the house is finished. I can’t believe a book I wrote has been published and read by so many people. I can’t believe all of the places me and the girls have traveled. I can’t believe that I am not spending this New Year’s Eve alone. Those dreams that I had this time last year have all been accomplished. God is such a good, good father! I could never had done the things listed here on my own. I had to turn it all over to Him and agree to be His vessel. I am just amazed.

Looking forward to 2017 I am filled with hope. I have hope for a future. I have hope for happiness. I have hope for more dreams to come true. It is my deepest desire to share that hope with others as well. What He did for me He can and will do for you if you let him. Take a big step out of your comfort zone and hold on for the ride!

Here’s to new beginnings…starting over….and learning to live again! May the love and grace of our Father be with you all tonight and throughout the upcoming year. 2017 is the year that we all step back and let Him slay those dragons that are holding us back!

HAPPY NEW YEAR Y’ALL!!!