I am not a personification of my social media feed.

Let's talk social media, specifically Facebook and Instagram because they are the only two I can seem to keep my arms around. I confess, for a very long time I had a love-hate relationship with social media feeds. I was torn between wanting to share and also with feeling that posts had more to do with ego than actual sharing.

I finally realized that my feelings were spawned by others' views of media feeds. There seems to be two MAIN camps: those that poke holes at all positivity posts and those that feel some entire feeds are made up of negativity. There is a small segment of us in the middle - in the gray, if you will - that just enjoy viewing everyone's pictures of their families and pets and vacations, and tend to just overlook the more negative posts or the folks who are forever sick or being hurt or feel ignored by others.

While I hope people are "following" us - meaning the B&B - I can honestly say I have no idea how many followers we have on Insta OR Facebook. On the other hand, I spend several hours of research a week on how to use social media to promote our business. The reality is that social media is THE way to advertise today...and it's FREE!! We'd be nuts to NOT utilize this resource that will only continue to change and deepen and grow as the years go by.

Some days, I feel like the more I learn, the more I don't know. I finally switched my personal Insta to primarily business; meaning, I changed it from MY personal name to Wildernest Bed & Breakfast. Yes, I'll still post pics of the grands, the doggies, the food...but those things are WHO we are, so it makes sense to me that our potential guests would like to see what we view as important.

We spend ENORMOUS amounts of hours on our front porch, so front porch pics are important to me. Pictures of our cabins, the food we serve, and views of the property are paramount to - not only promoting our business - but also giving small glimpses into who we are as business owners. We're family people, first and foremost, so there will always, always, ALWAYS be crazy amounts of pictures and stories of our grands, our kiddos, and our pets.

The one area that I question the most is: am I being real? Authentic?

Because THIS I can promise you. For every delicious food picture I post, there are at least THREE that are HORRIBLE! My sweet husband is very vocal and descriptive during our meals together. When it's good, there is NO doubt. His vocabulary and adjectives (some appropriate and some not so much:) leave no doubt that it's a dish worth repeating. But when he is silent; eating but with no commentary, I know it's bad. Very, very bad, usually! Ha!

For every "positivity" post, I promise I could post three things that AREN'T going well in life. Sometimes I think our family could have their own reality show. We have SO. MUCH. GOING. ON. right now! Most good, but some sad, some scary, some uncertain...So, sure, I make the decision each and every day what I want to share with others. The truth is that I WANT to be a voice of positivity. I WANT to point others to what gets me through: JESUS.

At the same time, even though I don't post about it on a regular basis, we have our own set of difficulties that we deal with on the daily. We've given up a regular, dependable salary to take a chance on "us" and this dream of a B&B. We celebrate with our kids who have kids and who are expecting another! (Hopefully we'll have a gender reveal later this week!!!) We also have kids who are going through infertility treatments, including surgery, medications, injections...We celebrate and we console, and many times both on the same day. We have parents with new medical issues, and our place in the "sandwich" of the family is that of the meat that holds both ends together. That's just where we are.

I could post all this, and I would never, ever discourage others from posting whatever they like. For me, I encourage myself with prayer, positivity quotes, and focusing on the good things in life. This naturally segues into my social media posts. It does as much, if not MORE, good for me than it could ever do for others.

Maybe most importantly of all is the growing of our family business - the B&B. We want that to be "the face" of our social media posts. We share certain pictures of family, pets, the grounds, the cabins, etc. because we want our potential guests to have a sense of who we are and what we value. We are two normal people: a couple who are deeply in forever love, who have grown children who are growing their own families, who have parents who are facing new challenges in life, who have meals that flop, ideas that fail, who laugh, cry, hurt, and rejoice.

We are normal.

We are not the personification of our social media feed.

Changing of the seasons.

What a year of transition!  Transplantation. When I first named this blog many years ago, it was

because it seemed I was being transplanted - both literally and figuratively. Little did I know that was Just. The. Beginning.

Since that first Transplanted Gal blog post:

• My parents sold their home and moved onto our land
• We built our dream home and moved out of our little beloved cabin
• Both sons married, one of them having the first EVER wedding on the property
• Wildernest Ranch Bed & Breakfast, LLC became a reality
• Our 3rd grandchild was born
• We opened the B&B
• Mike retired
• Expansions to the business included an event venue and two precious tinies
• After years of teaching English II, I switched to Culinary
• Mike received a call and was offered his old position with Donaldson, except with less travel
• We've witnessed 18 weddings at our property and venue, and countless parties & reunions
• I turned in my final letter of resignation and made the decision to "come home" to run the business full-time

Friday was my last day with students as we finished final exams. I've taken all of my personal belongings home, cleaned out the culinary kitchen, have all of my student computers and other technology ready to turn back into Tech. I've finalized grades and printed out my last grade verification sheets, cleaned out my desk, and have begun saying my "see ya laters." 

Tomorrow at 1pm I will drive out of the faculty parking lot for the last time as a TEACHER.

If I've learned anything in my 50+ years of living and loving, it's that nothing stays the same. Changes are inevitable; some are grand and exciting - others leave you heartbroken and desolate. With each new season comes new challenges, new adventures, new discoveries, new realizations.

The past year has probably been one of the most challenging for me up to this point. I think I may have cried more in the past 12 months than I have my entire adult life. My heart has been ripped apart again and again as I've tried to support my brother (who I love SO very much) through the most difficult chapter of his personal life; but we've grown closer as a result.

Together we've witnessed our parents' new health issues, and are continually learning new ways to support and care for them has been heartbreaking at times; but our love for family and our intense desire for them to know we're here for them has only deepened and solidified.

We've celebrated with one set of kids as they announced a new pregnancy, and we're over the moon excited to become grandparents to the fourth grand buddy OR grand doll. Yet - at the very same time - we've mourned with another set of kids who are facing infertility issues, and - as a family - we've come closer to each other and to God as we trust Him to make them parents.

We've lost friends to death this year - more than I ever thought possible in one year. It's been almost surreal. From motorcycle accidents to cancer to heart attacks, so many lives we've been invested in have come to an end, claiming people who are so very special to our lives. Yet each time has driven us to our knees and only served to make us more aware of how precious every single moment of this life really is.

Time is fleeting, and each day must count.

But I know it must also be a balanced life.

I've learned what it means to work weeks on end without a "day off," between my role as a teacher and a B&B owner. I'm also learning that a power nap on the couch or an occasional marathon of a favorite show doesn't mean I'm letting things "slip."

I've experienced what it's like to drop so many balls in so many roles this past year that I've very often wondered if I was fit to do ANY job, let alone try to keep my arms around the ones I've had. Yet each of these roles have blessed our family, our home, our marriage, and my spirit. I've learned to go to bed early on those hard days and trust that tomorrow is a brand new day, with brand new chances to do better.

We've missed countless ball games, special events, and birthday parties of our grands because it has literally taken all of our time, energy, and resources to get the business where it is today. We can't get those time back nor can we make up for them, but we CAN now begin to make new memories. Like Friday night lights in Richardson come fall, trips to Austin for the new birth, being present for karate tournaments, birthday parties, and impromptu quick Dallas "turn-arounds" for dinner dates with our grown kids.

I've cried over the students I am saying good-bye to, over aspects of teaching that I will miss so very much, and even over the fact that I will no longer be classified as a TEACHER - a role I have been so proud and honored to carry.

Oddly enough, there were no tears today. There may be tomorrow; don't hold me to this statement:)! I recognize this next season and anticipate it. I know it will be full of moments that I expect, and maybe even more that I don't. I know there will much laughter, more tears, gains and losses.

I promise my family that I will smile more, hug tighter, laugh often, play with childlike abandon. I will work hard to continue to grow our business, but I'll put the business of family first. More living room picnics with my love, more Legos and coloring with George, more girls' trips with my mom and daughters-in-love, more cheering at games as Carter plays and Kendall cheers. More front porch conversations with my brother, and also with my sis-in-law, friends and neighbors. 

More church. More prayer. More Jesus than ever before.

Once more...

I'm a transplanted gal.

I wouldn't have it any other way.

Savor: My Next 90 Days

Anyone who knows me well at all, knows I love a good planner/calendar! So much so that I may go a tad bit overboard. I currently carry THREE around with me on the daily!

There is a method to my madness though, I promise! The first is our business planner, which I use solely for just that...business. It contains all the reservations for each of the cabins, as well as the venue, plus it holds contact info for all of our brides and their important people. Updated financials are catalogued there on a monthly basis just so I can quickly flip to it at a moment's notice. Yes, this is all on our computer and much of it in our phones, but - call me stuck in yesteryear - I can't help the love I have for hard copy! I've used the same design for the past three years, and have purchased them all from an online boutique through Jane, called So Kali. I'm not posting a picture of it here right now because I'm being just too lazy to snap the pic and upload, but if you're like me and love a great planner plus a little personalization on the front cover, this one's for you! The planners aren't generally listed for sale until around Fall, but she has bill trackers, prayer journals, and much more! Definitely worth a look around! Then bookmark her for your next year's planner!

The planner that stays in my purse full-time is my personal one, and also one that contains all of my classroom and lesson plans. I used to do a full-on teacher planner, but finally gave that one up this year and - instead - consolidated it with my smaller, personal one. It's a good one, though, by Agenda 52! I'm pretty sure I picked this one up at Hobby Lobby, and it was either insanely on sale or I used my 40% off coupon! I'm obsessed with this one because you can customize the inserts; that's really the only reason it works so well for my lesson plans, and also for meal planning and shopping lists, too! LOVE it.

 
I so did NOT intend for this to be a full post dedicated to my planner/calendar addiction; I meant to gush on and on about my newest one only - the My Next 90 Days by Savor Life. It helps to organize your life 90 days at a time, and truly, TRULY promotes a more intentional way of approaching your busy days. Of course, it helps tons that it's full of inspirational quotes and has very deliberate 4-pillar  method: your 'savor life' list which helps keep you focused on what's most important, a 90 day vision, a weekly and daily ritual list, and - finally - a place to organize what they call your "gorgeous chaos." It takes the "nourish to flourish" approach and has room for literally everything you need to remind you to stop, think, rest, drink your water, plan your day intentionally, get in your prayer time, and you simply do it 90 days at a time!

Everytime I glimpse it on my desk, or laying open on the coffee table, or on a stack of books where I'm working in my home office, I smile. Every. Single. Time.

The reason?

At the end of THIS 90 days, I will be walking out of my role as a classroom teacher and into my new one as FULL-TIME B&B owner/operator!!! My heart, of course, is alllll over the place. I'm going to miss SO much about the teaching life, primarily my students, awesome coworkers, and - yes - a dependable monthly income! But if I've ever in my life known something for certain, it's that this is the right time, the right decision. I am ready.

What I don't want the next few months to be is a race to the finish. I want so badly to finish the school year out at the top of my game, which isn't always an easy task when my time, energy, and attention is pulled in such opposite directions. I want to live each day intentionally, knowing that there is purpose and pleasure in each and every one of them. And hard work. Always more hard work, right? Every morning, I glance at the list for the day, where I begin with what is Number One for every day: prayer first. This is the time of day that settles me, and helps me prepare in a calm and logical manner whatever the next 15 hours might hold.

So...this super long post in essence is really all about the last two paragraphs only.

In 90 days my life will once again change. I'll go through yet another "transplantation." My daily prayer is that each and every day lived between this one and that last one will be chock full of only the important, the essentials that fuel my spirit, nourish my body, and keep me in a place where I can be my best for my husband, our family, my role as a teacher and tender of young hearts, and my responsibilities in our business.

Winnie the Pooh said it best.

"A good teacher is like a candle - it consumes itself to light the way for others." ~ Author Unknown

I am retiring from teaching.

I typed, backspaced, typed again, backspaced again...numerous times, trying to capture the perfect opening sentence for this blog post.

The truth is, I don't think there is one. Even after deciding on the direct approach, I still hesitated over the word retiring. We all know it's not an actual retirement in which I will still draw a significant amount from TRS each month. Because teaching was a mid-life career change, I couldn't possibly live long enough OR work long enough to reach the formula by which teachers can "officially" retire with any hopes of a semi-decent income. 

Yet, I don't think the right word is QUITTING.

You quit something you no longer enjoy. You quit things that are too hard. You quit things that don't ignite your passion. 

If you were ever really a teacher of the heart, as well as of the mind and soul of a child, you don't quit teaching.

You simply leave at the end of a school year and don't return the next.

The thought of this already makes my heart constrict in something close to pain. As all teachers know, most days are mundane, and also filled with attitudes (poor ones, especially if you teach high school like I do:), lots of tardies and absences, headaches, and much longer hours than the general public realizes. But...just ONE of those rare, sweet days when there is a "light-bulb" moment, or when something extraordinary occurs that your lesson plan didn't account for...just ONE of those is enough to carry you for days, and even weeks at a time.

Many of you thought last year was to be my last in the classroom. For a while, I did as well. Then I had the amazing opportunity to return to my hometown high school as the new Culinary Arts teacher and I just couldn't pass that opportunity up! It has certainly been a wonderful year up to this point, and I get to enjoy three more months in this role, one that I've come to cherish and love and embrace. It doesn't replace my English teacher's heart, but it's a close second:)

Since last August, I've been fortunate (that's lucky AND blessed) to be able to combine my two significant passions - that of teaching and of the hospitality industry - and share these two with about 75 students each day. We've learned recipes, methods, safety, OSHA standards, front house etiquette and backhouse rules and regulations. 

We've shared laughter (lots), tears (not as many but very poignant), thrills, field trips, our problems, "counseling" sessions, and more hugs and smiles that I can even begin to count.  

To say that I'm going to miss teaching is so much of an understatement. Yes, I'm going to miss fulfilling that part of my heart that needs to teach. But I expect I'll always find a way to have teachable moments. I don't believe a real teacher ever vacates the profession; you simply widen your scope and allow for other things to have room in your heart and life as well as teaching. 

That's the fork in the road that I have come to. It's time to widen my scope. Our business has been blessed far beyond what we deserve, and certainly much more than we ever expected it to be this soon. "Soon" is relative since we opened the B&B five years ago! Time has flown and we have worked so, so hard to make it a place that is warm and welcoming, a real asset to our community, and the realization of what we had dreamed for it.

It can't continue to grow and flourish without me taking a day-to-day, "hands-on" position here at the B&B and venue. It's almost humorous to me that I thought I could continue to do both for even a couple more years. Whether it's age or energy, or (hopefully) just the sheer magnitude of what a business with four cabins and a wedding/event venue require - I have found that I can't teach AND be a proprietor and do justice to them both.

I had to make a choice.

I'm sure over the coming months I'll blog more about this newest upcoming transition. Once more, a transplanted gal. When I first named the blog years ago, I had no idea how many times I would refer to myself as a girl transplanted. I think God has had His hand in all of this much, much longer than I have. As always, I am trusting Him for guidance, for direction, and - especially - the wisdom to care for the roles in which He has entrusted to me.

My marriage. My family. Our business.

#ThisCouldGetWilder

Our Wedding Day

Mike and I have often joke that we're not real sure just how we ended up married; he never "asked," therefore I never said "yes" - and yet here we are...an old married couple now of almost twenty years.

We were never your ordinary couple, if there is even such a thing. With a substantial age difference between us, and me a young, single mom of two tween boys and he with a daughter in college, neither of us really expected to end up married.

(Mainly because he told me he would never marry again:)

Yet in spite of all the obvious obstacles and definitely in spite of our naysayers, there was an undeniable meeting of two hearts that needed one another. He traveled a lot for work and I was busy with a full-time job as well as mothering full-time, and we didn't see a whole lot of one another. In fact, we probably date more now than we ever did during our courtship.

But we wrote letters. So. Many. Letters. We still have them - hundreds - tucked away in a private spot. Every so often one of us will pull them out and we'll sit in our bed and take turns choosing one at random and read it out loud to the other. That was our courtship; through words spoken from the heart we came to know the true essence of the other. There was no holding back. Again, we didn't expect to marry; instead, we thought we had found a safe place to pour out our hurts from the past, our dreams for the future, our hopes for our respective children, and - yes - what we were going to do about this growing need we each felt to be with the other.

I'll not go into how we got from there to our wedding day; it's sacred and completely, totally a God-thing. But I still stand by the fact that there was no proposal; there was nothing uber romantic about how we arrived to our special day. However, the road there - and since - has been paved with more romance than some experience in their entire life.

I've never given any thought whatsoever to renewing our vows. Yet, as we draw closer to our 20th anniversary, we've talked a bit about it. Not because we feel the need to recite vows or declare our love and commitment; we both know more than ever that our love was destined. We are meant to BE.

But the road from being a "blended" family to a FAMILY has been one that's not always been easy. The easy part is falling in love, caring for each other's kids enough to open your heart and life to them, and seeing it all play out perfectly in your mind.

The harsher reality is that you're dealing with sensitive little hearts that don't fully understand what is happening and you're trying to find words to explain to your almost grown daughter why - after all this time - you've decided to not only marry, but to take on the care and raising of two young boys.

Again, I'll save all of our experiences and the ups and downs and ins and outs of our journey to unity for the five of us. What is the most important thing is that no one gave up; we allowed everyone to move at their own pace. The boys received a bonus dad that they lovingly refer to as Pops now; I received not what I would call a step-daughter - though that is what she is - but one of my closest and best friends.

This all took time, but time took care of all of our hearts.

Somewhere along the way, we melded and became one big, happy family. Then the boys were grown and marrying, and we then had three amazing children-in-law, as well as three phenomenal children. Now we have three grands that light our world in ways we never knew was possible.

What deserves to be celebrated and rejoiced over is that. Our kids. Our grands. Our family.

Two weeks ago, we were driving down the road and suddenly Mike pulls over to the side and puts the truck in park. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a ring, takes my hand with his free one, looks me straight in the eye and says,

"Mrs. Wilder, would you do me the honor of marrying me again?"

He asked, y'all!

I said YES.

Next December, when we have our family all together to celebrate Christmas, we'll stand with our kids and grands and renew our vows. Not just to each other, but to all nine of them. If they wish (and I hope they do!) we want them to say what they would like. If the grands want to speak, we welcome it! (We feel quite certain that 5 year old George will have something entertaining to offer up:)

Back then - on our wedding day - we became a family in name, but these days, we are a family in heart.

Watching our grown children interact with each other, share in big group text conversations, laugh and joke together is the single most favorite sight and sound we love the most in this whole entire world. All 11 of us aren't together too often due to living in various parts of Texas; but when we are, it's heaven on earth for Pops and I.

I love who we are together, not just Mike and I, but all eleven of us. I treasure the road that led us here, I embrace the moments that were difficult, and often rocky or even scary. Each experience, each year, each milestone built our family's foundation.

And it's a firm one.

One that will stand the test of time.

So in December we will renew our vows, and we'll look into one another's eyes, but then we'll turn and look at our kids and grands that stand there with us and - more than anything - we'll just give thanks for the blessing that came with an unexpected love, an anything-but-ordinary courtship, and the five hearts that blended together in love.

Self-care?

I've noticed the term 'self-care' tossed around a lot the past couple of years. I have to admit, I've struggled with the term itself; I think maybe it's a generational thing. I'm old enough to be a part of the generation that was mostly brought up to believe that to put yourself first is a bit selfish, and to consider others first and prioritize according to that.

I'm coming around to it though.

To be truly healthy means you're healthy in mind and spirit, as well as body. For whatever reason, the first two are easier for me to commit to. 

For my mind, I read - a lot - and I intentionally think on things that are positive. That certainly doesn't mean I don't have my moments, or DAYS, when I complain or act more like a Negative Nellie. But I do know, and understand, how it works: what you feed your mind will show up in your actions. 

For my spirit, this is probably the easiest for me. I draw my strength and inspiration from so many things connected to my spirit. Prayer first, of course, and also just staying in a constant state of awareness that His plans are so much grander and greater than my own. In my weakness, I am made strong. Many days, this is my lifeline, a comfort and a compass for me.

For my body - this has been a tougher nut to crack. It took me all of my 20s and a good part of my 30a to finally realize that my body is truly a temple, and that I should treat it as such. Overcoming body image issues, food issues, and - at last - accepting the body that I was gifted with, was not easily won. But once I grasped the fact that I only get one chance with this body, I was a much better steward of its care.

A few months ago, when I began experiencing tingling and numbness in my left hand, it was fairly easy for me to ignore. I blamed it on a prescription I had been given for a different ailment. 

When my lower back began to hurt Every. Day. I chalked it up to being on my feet all day, every day, and on concrete at that - in my new position as a Culinary instructor.

Then, when my neck and right shoulder began to ache and then become painful, I decided I was, indeed, pushing my body too hard. I would let up and give it some much needed rest after THIS. After THAT. 

self-care

Dictionary result for self-care

/ˌselfˈker/

noun

1. the practice of taking action to preserve or improve one's own health.

   "autonomy in self-care and insulin administration"

Until this week, when I couldn't take the pain any longer.

Turns out, I should have paid attention long ago. My childhood experience with scoliosis, coupled with early onset arthritis, and degenerative disk disorder are all staring me in the face this week. I had passed all my symptoms off to "aging." 

But - sometimes, people - it's more than simple aging. Sometimes, you're sick. Or, sometimes, you have a disorder. Or, sometimes, you have an injury. 

And you need to pay attention.

My body has my attention now. 

REVIEW: Girl, Wash Your Face

"Stop believing the lies about who you are so you can become who you were meant to be." - Rachel Hollis

I didn't purchase this book for me; it was never intended to be one of my reads for 52 Books in 52 Weeks.

I bought it to send to someone else. But - before I could put it in the mail - this same girl commented on a FB post how - on page 39 of the book she was currently reading - the words seemed to leap from the page and let her know it was time to take a leap of faith and go for what she wanted instead of trying to spend more valuable time trying to live up to what she felt others "expected" of her.

I immediately recognized the quote and realized she was already reading what had been laid on my heart for her. Confirmation.

So I added it to my bedside table stack, not really sure if I would ever pick it up. I think in my mind I pictured it to be more for the younger set. For whatever reason, I picked it up at one point and began to skim through.

Y'all.

It was SO good that I had to go back and start from Page 1. I have followed the author, Rachel Hollis, on Insta for a while, so I already knew her "voice" and was well aware of the wisdom of many of her tenants. This book, however, breaks it down into bite-size chunks that are truly life changing - if you are ready to change.

On the very first page of the Introduction, she pretty much sums up the book in one sentence. I could have stopped here and walked away with enough inspiration and excitement to go after the big dreams.

"You, and only you, are ultimately responsible for who you become and how happy you are."

With chapter titles such as: The Lie: Something Else Will Make Me Happy, The Lie: I Need to Make Myself Smaller, and The Lie: I'm a Terrible Writer - this book has challenged me in so many levels. In this year, where my "word" is PRESENT, and my decision to take a few new leaps of faith - stepping out and trusting that I will either fly or He will catch me, I am now convinced it was me - and not just my friend - that needed many of the words in this gem of a book. 

As women, life these days feels a whole lot like a marathon - and it feels a lot like we are out of shape and not at all prepared for the race. Whether time has truly sped up or not is debatable, but it definitely feels like we run faster and faster and accomplish less and less. Time is flying by.

I think about this all the time. Why didn't I take better care of my skin 20 or 30 years ago? Why didn't I lose all that baby weight 30 years ago when I was through having babies? Why didn't I begin my career - my passion career - much sooner, instead of in mid-life? Why couldn't I have had more wisdom, more confidence, more determination as a younger woman? 

Truth: All the steps, decisions, mistakes, victories throughout all of my years on this Earth have led me HERE. And I am really liking HERE. Not only does it not do any good to ask all of the what ifs, but it is directly counter-productive of what I am meant to do right now - in the NOW. Right HERE. Each of my scars, each of my heartbreaks, each of my losses have grown me as a woman. Each love I have had, each success - whether big or small - and each of my baby steps have led me to this season of life.

A season that I am very excited about. I am blessed, for sure.

So I'm going to wash my face, put all self-doubt behind me, and wrap my arms around my dreams, and my heart around my faith.

It's time to be what He intends for me to be in Him. His plans are so much larger and greater than my own. He believes in me; no, He KNOWS what I am about to tackle and accomplish. All I have to do is step out and trust, knowing that He has ordered my every step and already gone before me.

Hot Springs Getaway

Whispering Pines Tree House

Last year, in January, we had THE sweetest young couple choose Wildernest B&B for their "beginning of the year" getaway. They explained to us that they do this each year, a time to financial plan, have some of the hard conversations, and set both personal and couple goals for the upcoming year.

They very deliberately decided on a place away from home because - we all know - these types of conversations at home often become interrupted, or - dare I say truthfully - even heated? 

My sweet husband and I have taken a cue from them and are taking our "yearly planning" on the road this year. It didn't happen in January, but we are taking this Thursday and Friday off of work and traveling to Hot Springs, Arkansas - just a short hop down the road from us. After taking care of some necessary appointments/duties on Thursday, we'll hit the road and enjoy a couple of nights away to rest, plan, prepare, and set our financial goals for 2019.

This is a first for us, and we will definitely document this time and blog about it in the next few weeks. It doesn't matter if you're newlyweds, married with small children, empty nesters, or enjoying your "Pipe Dreams" like we are - having a PLAN and CONSISTENTLY working it together is just so important.

So...Whispering Pines, we will be tucked away in your part of YOUR piney woods in just a few short days, ready to rest, recharge, and plan. Our mutual couple goal for this year is to live intentionally, move forward with purpose, and take better care of our families, our children, and our grands!

Does anyone relate to this subject? Drop a comment if you want to share! If you'll leave a comment, we'll send you a little takeaway from Hot Springs upon our return!

Many blessings on this Sunday!

The heart of a teacher.

This blog post is dedicated to the many, many awesome teachers in my life - my dad before me, my brother, my current co-workers, my past co-workers, and to the many friends of mine who are teachers.

Today was one of those days that is hard on a teacher's heart.

I just walked in from attending the funeral of a 12 year old - one of our 7th grade junior high girls. Bright, pretty, spunky, athletic, with a love of singing...we never anticipated this.

I've "lost" several students in my years of teaching; it's something that never gets easier. It's one of the great many things that college courses do not prepare you for. Being a teacher is a lot like motherhood - you walk around most days with your heart outside of your body.

This precious girl was not a student of mine; her sibling is in our building, and that carries its own weight of grief. But - even more than that - our district is small, our community is small; each loss is felt. The school auditorium (where the memorial service was held) was packed; this is a community where people show up, they are there for one another. I sat in the back row and was overwhelmed with the display of unity and love that was, both, felt and seen.

As I left my classroom this afternoon and began the short walk to the auditorium, I was overtaken with emotion as I paused at the junction where our junior high and high school meet. Right as I was passing by, the junior high students were being led by a whole host of their teachers down the hallway, toward the memorial service for their classmate. Let me tell you, if that scene doesn't bring you to your knees, I'm not sure anything would.

I don't want to "camp out" on this next part, but I do feel it's worth speaking to. The majority of the students we lose are to car accidents, and occasionally a terminal illness. This one...this was a first for me and for many that I teach with. This...was a suicide. Remember, she was 12.

That, in itself, sparks a grief that is hard - as a teacher - to wrap your head and heart around; imagine how difficult it is for the classmates. The pastor conducting the service did such an amazing job - truly one of the most heart-felt, anointed messages I've heard at a funeral. Heartbroken himself, he spoke directly to the family, but also to all of the students. There is a lot of healing and restoration that needs to happen, and he spoke to that and began that process today by pointing folks to Jesus.

When nothing at all makes sense, go to Him.

I rarely go here, mainly because I feel like it is really no longer my story to tell, but like several of the students that I currently teach, I have been touched first-hand by attempted suicide. Fortunately, this person was not successful. But - as a young 24 year old, I know what it's like to receive THE call, to read THE note, and then to spend all day and all night in a hospital room, hoping, praying, BEGGING that somehow, someway life could just go back to being "normal."

But you know what?

It doesn't. You eventually lean into, and then embrace, a new normal. One in which you are no longer the same. You are wary when you never used to be. You look for "signs" at the first appearance of distress or unhappiness. There is a huge, jagged scar that eventually heals, but its presence serves as a constant reminder: life can change at any moment.

I was young, and probably naive in many ways. I had - up until this point - led a pretty sheltered and "untouched" life. The mother of two small little boys, my "one moment" grew me up quickly. The world no longer felt safe, and I didn't know how to stay safe myself, much less keep two toddlers safe.

And that is how - even though I spent all of my growing up years on a church pew - I came to really know Jesus for myself. When nothing made sense, I went to Him, and that has made all the difference in my life since.

If you would, please keep this precious family, our school family - especially her teachers and classmates - and our entire community in your prayers over the days and weeks and months to come. These times tend to have a rippling effect, and we (teachers) must put our own grief, our own disbelief, our own horror aside and be what these kids need.

We will be there to hand out hugs, listen when they need to talk, understand when the school work just isn't getting done, and - most importantly - point them to Jesus.

Because - when nothing makes sense, He always does.

Present.

PRESENT.

This morning the story of Ruth was on my mind; I even posted a devotional meme that talked of Ruth not going back to what was familiar. Because of this - and because she stepped out in faith and walked into the unknown - she came face-to-face with her divine destiny.

If any woman ever had a reason to look back, and even go back, it was Ruth. No one would have blamed her. No one would have thought her weak or scared or wrong. She would have been doing the natural thing, the human thing. That thing that we all do at times when life is overwhelming, or the choices are too hard, or the decisions are too scary. We go back to what we know. To where we feel the safest.

But Ruth decided to be PRESENT, and because of that, her life was never the same.

One evening last week, I spent about an hour on the phone with someone so very precious to me. Young enough to be my daughter, and yet possessing the talent and wisdom and grace of someone so much older, she is a true inspiration to me. I listened as she "talked out" things that were on her heart and decisions that lay ahead of her. It's in those moments that I think I pray the hardest, "Lord, give me the right words to say. Don't let ME get in the way." When she had talked and I had listened, only one phrase ran through my heart, and then my head, and finally out of my mouth.

"Faith walk it."

Walk it out.

This applies to most all of us. There are times when we come face to face with that choice: play it safe, or faith walk it. Lay it all out there. Put that talent to use. Let your heart feel. Make the decision that doesn't necessarily make sense to others. Go with what you know and trust.

In the introduction to The Lipstick Gospel by Stephanie May Wilson (review coming soon!), Stephanie addresses the two types of people in this world: the people with a map and those without one. Both ways can bring you to places of great beauty, and they can also both carry you through arduous times. For the planners (raising my hand high here, because I fall more deeply into this category than the other) you at times arrive to your destination only to realize it looks nothing like you thought it would. And sometimes when you don't plan at all, you still manage to stumble upon something more perfect than you would have ever picked out for yourself.

There's not a right or a wrong, even though the extremes of each find it really hard to understand the other! LOL:) Either way can lead to beauty. Both ways can lead to heartache. The decision lies inside of us, with that still, small voice that directs when we can release control enough to listen. Truly listen.

And then faith walk whatever it is that He speaks to us.

It's in these moments that we are truly, reverently PRESENT.

My word for this year is just that. PRESENT. Let me be like Ruth. Let me not play it safe, just because of fear or uncertainty, or because I might fail. Let me be messy, but beautiful in His sight. Let me be bold, but only because what lies ahead is worth the extra effort. In short, let me move forward despite my fears, insecurities, and - in those times when I am unsure of the next step - let me not be afraid to pause, to rest, to reset, and then begin to move forward again.

Just don't let me look back.

Let me be present this year. In the lives of the ones I love the most. In the wake of the dreams I pursue. In the hearts of those who need me to be strong. Let me show up. Do the hard work. Take advantage of opportunities that others view as risks. View a closed door as a reason to venture out an open window. Or time to dance in the hallway while I wait...

Let this planner be diligent, aware, and wise, but don't let me miss the spectacular because of fear of stepping outside of my comfort zone.

Let me be...

PRESENT.

MANUSCRIPTS: Melrose Miracle

Remember last Saturday when I was soooo emotional about The Finding of the Manscripts?

LOL.

I'll attempt to explain why.

A number of years ago, I was a full-time writer. Just saying that makes me still cringe a bit. But not nearly as much as I used to cringe when someone would refer to me as a "writer" or "author," although both were true.

For close to 8 years I devoted the majority of my days to my craft, my passion, my calling. I wrote. Four of my completed manuscripts made it to publication. The first two will forever be special just simply because a small secular publishing house took a chance on a newbie.


If I had the opportunity to revise these two titles today, I would know so much more about character development, plot twists, about being one with your characters.

Still, by God's grace and mercy, These Things We Hold and For Such a Time as This found their publishing home. A few years later, Waking Emma and Saving Grace also found a publishing home. Mind you, this all took place years ago; before I went back to college for my teaching certification, before we moved to rural Northeast Texas, before my teaching career, and definitely before we opened the B&B!

Over the years since, I've often all but forgotten about those days. Days when I would plop in front of my computer after the boys left for their day at school. Days when I would become so involved in my characters' lives that I would have a difficult time transitioning back to my "real world" at the end of the day in order to make dinner, keep house, be a "present" wife and mom, and raise a family.

Once I began school, and then teaching, I all but gave up writing. The occasional blog post was about as far as I ventured into the writing arena in those days. By this time, I had grown somewhat frustrated with the industry and the difficult journey it is to "break into" mainstream publishing. I - by then - had several more manuscripts completed, as well as book proposals that I was insanely excited about - but I was no longer confident that writing was a calling; maybe it was just my hobby.

It seemed that writing had become WORK and much of my previous joy was robbed by the rejection letters, the return of my beloved Melrose Miracle by my equally beloved AGENT (yessss, I actually was under contract with an agent!:), and by the rigorous guidelines and stipulations required to succeed in a very up and coming and competitive industry - that of Christian fiction.

I remember the day I packed up the binders, saved all the manuscripts and proposals to a flash drive, and then stored them all. I truly felt that this "season" of my life was behind me. I knew I wanted to hang onto all of the things from this time period, but I was not a good steward of keeping up with where they were. This was particularly true after several moves, until we settled on the 50 acres of land that we now call the B&B.

Then, a number of months ago, that sleeping giant awoke inside of me and - y'all - I. CAN'T. STOP. WRITING. It's joyful again, healing, even, and I write with abandon, not giving one single thought to trying to become published again. I'm writing for me, to deliver myself of the many stories bottled up inside of me, begging to find their home in word form.

When I switched from teaching English to Culinary this school year, and realized that my Advanced Culinary was made up of all females, Melrose Miracle came to mind. The story of Ella and Luke, a nation-wide Cooking Channel contest - "Restaurant 101" - and a 2nd chance at love and laughter, the perfect combination to share with my culinary ladies.

Except I could not find the binder holding the hard copy. I could not find the flash drive. I couldn't find it online anywhere - even though I had posted it one chapter at a time on an old blog back some years ago. The thought of it BEING GONE was devastating to me.

Days became weeks and weeks became months and still no manuscript.

When I had all but given up, my precious, sweet, unbelievably supportive husband (no matter what kind of shenanigans I find myself in, he never fails to have my back:) spent time searching the very, very back of a very, very packed storage room in the barn...and he found Ella and Luke!!!  (All the praise hands here!)

This binder with this old manuscript of mine now resides in my classroom. I'm not sure when I'll share it with the girls - maybe as a part of their graduation gift...

In the meantime, I'm having the best time reading the novel (my novel!) and even though it never found its home, I can't help but believe that this was all a part of a bigger plan. A plan much bigger, and most likely better, than I could have created or dreamed on my own.

I'm so thankful - so grateful - for so very much these days.

I'm excited for what is happening in my heart as I spend my evenings tucked into my chair in front of my laptop. Just because it feels like home again. 

Much like Ella experienced:

She'd entered this contest on a dare, never in a million years thinking she'd be chosen as a finalist. Then she'd traveled to LA in pursuit of a distant dream, an opportunity to carve out a delicious future for her and Chloe.

But she'd discovered so much more.

Luke Abney had claimed her heart with a gentleness that left Ella breathless. His warmth and tenderness reached inside her to a place Ella thought had withered away when Stephen died. In a short span of time, Luke had taught her two valuable things.

 How to trust her heart again.

And how to trust God again. (Wilder, Melrose Miracle)

Trusting Him with all of my heart, for all of my tomorrows...

The Giving Box

 "We make a living by what we get, but we make a life by what we give."

---Winston Churchill

Every Christmas since they were old enough to understand, Amy & Paul have taken our grands - Carter & Kendall - to serve Meals on Wheels on Christmas Day. Of all the many, many things I love, appreciate, and admire about our grown children, perhaps the biggest of these is that they live life on purpose.

Somehow they have realized (at a much younger age than we did) that a life well lived is a life where you are aware; aware of your blessings, but also aware of the lack of food, lack of health, lack of money, and lack of family that so many around us experience.

Living a life OF purpose is wonderful and great, and I think it's something that most "thinking" people do. We want to know that we are making a difference in this world, and not just existing. We want our lives to impact someone and - when all is said and done - we want to know that our life meant something. That we are leaving an imprint of our heart and efforts behind. 

But living life ON purpose, I believe, takes it a step further. I don't know that we "think" about this nearly as much as it is just a part of who some people are. They have a way of keeping "the main thing" THE main thing. They are present in their life and show up for all the right moments. Busyness, obligations, and appointments still dot their daily lives, but never seem to outshine or overpower what they believe to be the most important: taking care of those who aren't necessarily able to care for themselves. 

Over the past few weeks of partnering with ndulge, I've seen firsthand how easy they make it for most any of us to begin to change our perspective from JUST living a life of purpose to living life ON purpose. A company founded by a group of sisters, ndulge seeks to not only provide quality athleisure wear, beauty and wellness products, and accessories (that we are all going to buy anyway), but they stand behind their words and give back 33% to a variety of causes that each involve helping people not as fortunate as they are.

If you want to hear an inspirational story, then you need to read Kennedy's story. Just as Paul and Amy started our grands out early, so did the parents of these girls. So much so, that as they grew and again and again witnessed first hand the power of giving, they sought out ways to make it a permanent part of their daily lives. 

They decided to live life ON purpose. 

One of the products I am most excited about is The Giving Box. Much like the now-popular "box of the month" clubs (except this is a one-time purchase that you can repeat as often as you'd like), you receive a box of ndulge products (worth well over $100) that you will not only LOVE and wear all the time, but the money from the box will go directly to impact and affect the lives of at least two people. 

You may be thinking, two people, well, that doesn't sound very impactful. But it's a movement, a deliberate step after step after step approach to changing lives in very specific ways. I'm excited - and honored - to be a part of this company and to be able to share some good in a world so desperately in need of true folks to be the "hands & feet" of Jesus during a time when it is all too easy to get caught up - and remain caught up - in the hecticness, the hurry, the frenzy that is LIFE. 

As I announced on IG and Facebook this morning, I have a few giveaways that I want to send out this week! Leave a comment here on the blog, sharing a favorite quote, or maybe an inspirational GIF or meme...something that is in keeping with Winston Churchill's words: "We make a living by what we get, but we make a life by what we give," and you will be entered into a random drawing for the AMAZING Hearts for Giving bracelets, made with love and very little money by the women who give of their time, energy, and resources to aid the Prerana Orphanage of Love in Nepal.

Tonight - at 8:00pm Central time - I will draw names for these giveaways, and then send some of this happiness that I have discovered your way! Comment away on social media, but - remember - the names for the drawing will come from the comments left here on this post!

Until this evening...

Blessings, 

Staci

When NO is what gets you there.

Whether it has something to do with the "first child" syndrome, or whether I am just a pleaser by nature, saying NO does not come easy for me. In fact, up until recently, I would find 100 other ways to attempt to say no (to a project, to an obligation, to an event, to a person) but I quickly discovered that some people don't "hear" those other ways.

They have to hear, "No," to know it means NO.

Saying that one simple little word shouldn't be so difficult. But for many people - including me - it brings on such a sense of guilt; as though I am letting someone or something down.

I wish I would have realized a long time ago that I don't have that kind of power. :) People's happiness and satisfaction in this life isn't directly proportional to me being at their beck and call, no matter how it appears in the moment.

"You can't have a yes without a no." (Niequist) We all have limitations on our time, our energy, and our resources. Saying "yes" too often to things that don't inspire us, motivate us, or bring about any kind of self-respect or self-gratitude only means that we are simultaneously saying "no" to some things that do inspire us, do motivate us, and do provide us with a sense of self-respect.

I've come to realize over the latter portion of 2018 that I've said "no" too many times, but to the wrong people, the wrong things. I've passed on weekends with family to work an event or fulfill a sponsorship. I've lost sleep and just plain 'ol rest to show up when I'd rather stay home, to make someone's job easier while making mine more difficult.

As I went from a young mom, to a working mom, then to a single mom, then to a blended family mom, then a "going back to college mom," and finally - a full-time career mom, I gradually became accustomed to saying yes to all the things.

I imagine, at first, this was because I felt that I somehow lacked something, something that I needed to compensate for. Maybe I felt "less than" because of the struggle to provide for two little boys in an average paying job. Maybe I felt that since I could no longer be THE room mother, that I should instead make all of the things. The cupcakes. The schedules. The goody bags.

I remember coming home from one work trip a day early. I didn't tell anyone about the change of schedule except for Mike. I came straight home from the airport, changed into sweats and a tshirt, climbed into bed, and simply requested that I be excused from the phone, from interaction with people, from even the things that should have brought me the most fulfillment.

I just wanted to lay in bed.

It wasn't depression, or even despondency. It wasn't just a matter of being physically, mentally, or even emotionally tired. I was just tapped out. Out of reserves. Out of anything to give for the moment.

In hindsight, that should have been my turning point, but - of course - it wasn't. I was still young - in my early 30s - and felt that things might literally crumble if I wasn't hands on 24/7 in everything I was expected to do. Everything I was asked to do. Everything I thought I should do. 

I was working so hard, moving so fast, taking on so much that I hadn't even realized I was losing out on the things that really mattered. The moments. Those brief pockets of time when memories are made.

I suppose I thought it would all lead me to where I eventually wanted to be - at my destination. Where I was meant to be. Equipped with what I needed to be successful in life. What I didn't realize was that I was robbing not only myself, but those I loved most, of the best of me.

Not everyone will be thrilled about your decision to suddenly be protective of your time, your talent, and your energy. It may "inconvenience" some people who've become reliant on you - quite simply put - just being there for them. 

Hear this: those are NOT YOUR PEOPLE.

The folks who truly love you, treasure you even, want your happiness. They want you to have a peaceful, fulfilling life, and they trust you to make the decisions that ensure that is what happens. These people are not threatened by your absence, their feelings are not hurt by your saying 'no.' They will respect your decisions. They will respect your needs.

They will respect YOU.

If we listen, we all have that inner voice that guides our way. For many of us, this is certainly through prayer, and it is also through using what God gave us: the ability to listen to our bodies, and to respectfully care for this one vessel He's given us to live in. After all, it has to take us to the finish line.

Transplanted gal.

"Some of us think holding on makes us strong but sometimes it is letting go." - Hermann Hess

I'm a bit of a control freak. For those of you who know me well, I know what you are thinking. What an understatement! I like to know where I'm going. I enjoy knowing where my things are. I'm comforted by the familiar. I'm energized by routine.

A few years back, all of the nuances that make up who I am kind of went on a flying leap out the nearest window. We moved from a lively, happening suburban neighborhood in DFW to a sleepy, laid-back town in rural Northeast Texas.

In short, I became a transplanted gal.

I believe in seasons of life, and I had no doubt that this was the season for change. It was a time of letting go of what felt familiar, and - instead - dive headfirst into this new direction. I have no regrets.

Little did I know then that this was just the beginning...

"It takes a lot of courage to release the familiar and seemingly secure, to embrace the new. But there is no real security in the adventurous and exciting, for in movement there is life, and in change there is power." - Alan Cohen

Ah, how this quote spoke to me this morning. Preached to me, is more like it.

I - like most women - value security. There's comfort in the familiar, reassurance in the mundane. We know what to expect, and pretty much when to expect it. While this life runs the risk of skating dangerously close to BORING, I have to say that I prefer this ride over the wildly unpredictable roller coaster of the UNKNOWN.

But sometimes the normal - the FAMILIAR - can breed mediocrity and we begin to give less than our very best. When we finally get brave enough to truly face the situation with clarity we can then - and only then - summon the courage to venture into the newer, unfamiliar waters. It is only there that we can meet newer, more mature challenges. And, really, it's the challenges that promote personal growth. And personal growth is what we all need, isn't it? Once in those waters...I agonize.

I might weep. Grieve, even. My spirit and my soul lay claim to my every thought and action. I don't want to make a change. Even so, life is all about change. In no way at all do I want to miss out on what God has for me for fear of the unknown. With hesitancy, I feel myself being drawn to the deep.

I allow the waters to suck me into their uncertain depths.

I may retreat for a while. Retreat from all the noise, all the distractions, all the pulls of the world around me. I might share with no one the conflicting and warring emotions tugging for proprietorship in my soul. I enclose myself in the only place I know will bring healing and hope for my bruised spirit.

And then I pray.

You know the kind of prayers I'm talking about. The ones that seem to claw their way from the innermost parts of your being. The ones where words elude you, fail you, yet you pray on, your spirit interceding for the human being that you are. But it's only in those moments of uncertainty, of brand-spanking newness that you somehow sense that in your trevail you are giving birth to something new.

So I surrender.

Once in the murky, uncertain waters of what I once perceived as scary territory, I discover treasures. Pieces of beauty that I would never have seen otherwise. My eyes adjust to the dimness of the situation and I become quiet. Be still, and know that I am God. Verses from the Bible become my food. Lyrics from songs become a healing balm for my soul. Worship - although often wordless - brings a quenching to my thirst.

After a while, I realize I no longer flail at the water surrounding me. No longer struggle against the lessons these depths are trying to teach me. Acceptance, slow yet persistent, begin to inch their way into my consciousness. And then the AMAZING...

...the healing of soul and spirit comes to me.

I break the surface again, and breathe in great gulps of fresh peace. I'd gone under in a black-and-white world, but now the colors around me bloom with vibrancy and brilliance and techni-color supremacy. The scales are gone from my eyes, the pain gone from my heart, and doubt gone from my spirit.

I am different. Yet the same. I've released the familiar. Yet I'm more comfortable than ever before. I stand still and know. I have moved into the deeper waters. I have security that cannot fail.

The changes have come closer together these past few years, and especially these past few months. I've noticed less pause in my spirit and more excitement in my step. Maybe this means I'm trusting the process more; maybe it means I've gleaned some much needed wisdom finally.

I've started referring to each new phase as "walking it out..."

It's a faith walk.  Always.

I am no closer to knowing my future. And yet my future feels solid.

Some dreams may come true. I may have to bid good-bye to still others. There will no doubt be days that appear cloudy and uncertain. There will be days when the familiar once again blankets me, lulling me into a complacent existence that feels wonderful, but has the potential to stagnate the growth that I crave. And then it will be time for my focus to change again.

All that I am, all that I hope to be, is in HIM.

That's it for me. Nothing else matters. There's comfort in that. It's familiar. Yet it's ever-changing, pulling at me, tugging on my heart's door - begging me to come deeper still.

And so I will. I'm letting go and moving willingly into the deeper waters.

And in that movement I'll know power.

And in that power, I'll know LOVE.
And love brings LIFE.
And LIFE is all we have here so why not embrace it with all we have?

The "lost" manuscripts.

"There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you." 

        -Maya Angelou

This morning has been an emotional time for me. Up early to give a venue tour, and then ready a couple of the cabins for weekend guests, I was completely focused on the business, and on finishing up the duties so that I could head back to the house. Our oldest son, Nate, and his wife, Sarah, are visiting this weekend, and we have a full day and evening planned with them. 

But as I said good-bye to the prospective bride and the group of ladies with her, I saw Mike (who was in the barn) waving me over to him. As I drew closer, I glimpsed a large cardboard box sitting on top of his 6-wheeler and my heart sped up a bit.

Could it be...?

"Did you find them?" Even as I asked the question, I saw the happy gleam in his eyes and knew that he had, in fact, found THEM.

My "lost" manuscripts. 

He opened the box and I stared down at binder after binder after binder, filled with my words, stories that I had poured out onto paper so many years ago. Through all of our moves and our transitions (and my transplantations:) I had put my writing in my past, boxed away. 

I remember the day I boxed all of the binders. I truly thought my writing career was behind me, that it had been but a "season," although one of the more impacting ones of my life. For five years, while the boys were in high school and beginning college, I was fortunate enough to work from home and I wrote every. single. day. 

Four of my novels made it to the publishing stage, and still several more lay complete, without a permanent home, inside of binders, where I had carefully printed out each story as I reached the end and...then put it away.

For a number of weeks now, I have been searching for these manuscripts. Mike and I have each spent more than a couple of late, late nights, searching closets, combing through all of our old computer files...looking for any sign that those days spent at the computer still existed somewhere.

In future blog posts, I'll talk more about a couple of them and why it is so important to me RIGHT NOW to find them. But - for today - I will just share that my dear, sweet husband found them. After I sat in the office and opened binder after binder, I became overwhelmed - with gratitude, with love, with hope, and with excitement...

I walked into the kitchen, where he was cooking breakfast for us and the kids and - even though Nate and Sarah sat in the living room just feet away from us, I stood at the stove and wrapped my arms tight around his waist. He held me close as I buried my head in his chest, helpless to stop the flow of tears as they ran hot down my face. 

"Thank you," I was barely able to get the words out in between gulps.

"Mom," Sarah's voice held concern. "Are you okay?"

I am way, way more than just okay. I feel like a piece of my heart - no, my soul, has been returned to me. I am looking forward to the days ahead, and what they hold. For me, for my characters, for our family...

...for this new season that I feel blowing in my direction, ever so gently...