Moving

“Let’s move to the Smithfield area.”

One idea sparked a decision that led to a house. For two-plus years, Ron and I have dreamed and talked about the possibilities of the next chapter of our life: Vacation Rental By Owner (VRBO) in the mountains, home in the country, condo at the beach. We didn’t discount anything, and we talked about everything. Finally, on our Christmas vacation, we made a decision: we would move, and either sell or rent out our house.

Never did we imagine it would happen so soon.

“What was it? We got back on Jan. 1st, and by the 15th, we’re doing a home inspection?” Ron said as we drove away from the house we had put an offer on just days before. Exactly!

Our first foray looking at houses quickly informed us we would need to widen our geographical search and up our price. Diane Steele, our realtor, asked the right questions to understand what we wanted, and a week later, took us back out to look at more homes. As we ended the day with no hits, Ron had a suggestion.

“What about this one? It’s more than I want to spend, but it has a great back area. Can we just go look at it.”

We arrived at the 4000 sq. ft rancher after dark. With two front doors, we entered the left one and immediately felt the warmth of the home welcome us. A great room with a gas fireplace greeted us, and an elaborate loft with a sunken living room and massive wood-burning fireplace occupied the left side. At the same time, a cathedral ceiling with exposed beams covered the great room, leading into the open gourmet kitchen, fully equipped, a small dine-in area with a built-in china cabinet creating a cozy atmosphere.

“I love it!” I said immediately, while Ron reserved judgment, walking through the rooms showing no emotion.

Walking towards the French doors by the gas fireplace, three rounded steps led into a Florida room that overlooked the hardscaped back patio. A gazebo sat in the middle, an empty pool house to the right, all surrounded by a brick fence with lights atop the columns. Beyond the brick, a shed sat close to the wall, remnants of a container garden waiting for spring, a wishing well decorating the expansive and flat lawn, all surrounded by a privacy fence, creating a peaceful haven.

Although the house had some quirks, its personality made the home irresistible. The well-maintained brick structure built in 1978 had the smell of years gone by lingering as we walked through its rooms, inspecting the layout. In the master bedroom, we discovered a converted closet bathroom, and a large empty room that once housed a sunken tub and double vanity, now empty except for the mirrors hanging on the wall.

After sleeping on it overnight, we decided to revisit the house in daylight and see if it still appealed to us. Loving the brick rancher even more, we made an offer for $10,000 under asking, which the sellers quickly accepted. Diane scheduled the home inspection and the countdown to closing began.

Jacob, originally from Williamsburg, class of 2005, graduated from Bruton High School and now lives in Virginia Beach. When we arrived at our new home to do a thorough inspection, we found him on the roof.

“The only thing of concern I found was the garage wall; it’s leaning away from the house slightly but is fixable. I’ll prioritize it as a concern, but other than that, it’s a solid house.”

Jacob’s report made us breathe easier. Especially after he crawled under the house, inspecting the joints.

“They’ve done a lot of work down there, and it’s good. Keep up the termite and moisture inspection; you should have no problems.”

While Jacob inspected the house, we met with Scott, Diane’s contractor, and discussed plans for an ensuite and returning the bathroom closet to its original purpose. Also wanting to re-do the kitchen floor, and paint a few rooms, Scott will give us an estimate early next week.

Onward and upward as we wait for the reports, continuing prayerfully to find a new home and make it ours.

As we waited for estimates, I began carrying things down stairs. First the guest room closet, then under the bed, followed by night stands and decor. After that I moved to the prayer closet and packed it up.

Prayer Closet packed on 1/28

“Can I have your empty boxes?” I asked the associate at Dollar Tree

“We don’t have any, they’re all in the trash out back.”

“I know, I saw them. I’m a vendor at Lazy Daisy. We’re moving and I need boxes. Do you mind if I take some?”

“Sure, take all you want.”

And with that, I found myself digging through Dollar Trees recycling for boxes.

The packing continues!

1/30/25

Five days out from closing and most of the upstairs has come downstairs. Only furniture and product for the Lazy Daisy remains upstairs.

“We can rent the Ubaul for 7:00 Friday morning. Pack it and drive it to the closing. We’ll be at the house by 4:00

Closing went smoothly. We had one snafu, they didn’t include my name on the Title. Shae, our closing coordinator called Roberta, our mortgage agent and within minutes we had a new title.

Ron drove the U Haul, the pups in the crate on the passenger seated. During closing, they napped in the 60 something degree weather, well traveled dogs they didn’t mind the 45 minute wait.

By 3:00 we pointed the loaded Subaru and packed U haul westward towards Suffolk.

Exhausted by the time we arrived, neither of us wanted to unload the truck, but if we wanted to sleep in a bed, located at the back of the rig, we had no choice.

And so we unloaded what we had packed a few hours before.

We spent the first night in the guest room. I heard every creak the house made, sleeping by the door, the lack of traffic, loud music and city sounds made it hard for me to slumber.

“Do we really have to do another load?” I said the next morning, exhausted from the previous day, dreading the 45 minute drive in the rain, to fill the 20 ft U Haul one more time.

“Yes. The sooner we go, the sooner we get back.”

And so, putting the dogs in the Florida room, we headed back to 2256 for more stuff. By the end of the day we emptied one house and partially filled another. Buying a house 2 and a 1/2 times the size of our previous home would require more furniture than what we had.

Adirondack chairs gave us a place to sit for the Superbowl

Also Saturday, we went to Rooms To Go and bought a sectional for the sunken living room. Adirondack chairs did the job until the couch arrived five days later.

Sunday we returned the truck by 7:00 a.m., had breakfast at Vancostas for old times sake, reminiscing about Ron’s parents, before going to church at Coastal one last time. On the schedule to volunteer in kids, I got to work with my friend Angie, making it bitter sweet to leave.

And then we became residents of Suffolk once and for all. Our first week in the new home, I set up my craft room while Ron made the 50 minute commute to Lee Hall.

Once we got the couch and love seat moved to the loft, it became our nightly hang out while we waited for the sectional to arrive.

Once the sectional came, we quickly settled into our new T.V. room, the pups finding their spots without much trouble.

Jan and Kevin became our first visitors when they stopped by on our third Sunday afternoon in the new house. After checking on their new home, currently under construction 20 minutes from us, they brought us a house warming gift, a beautiful round garden stone with “Bless this Home” surround by pink flours on a ceramic white wood background.

During the first week we ironed out details with our contractor, JAC Contracting, for the master bathroom and walk-in closet, putting down a deposit and getting on their schedule. I painted the T.V. room and guest bathroom, then tackled the Florida room which we renamed the Sunset room.

We didn’t realize the house has great views of the sunsets from the back, and sunrises from the front when we bought it. Built North to South, equipped with picture windows, we love the unexpected blessing.

Our second week in the house came with a major snow storm that stopped the world for a couple of days and gave me time to work on the Sunset Room, which took about a week to do.

We discovered black mold under the linoleum when we pulled it up. Treating the mold with vinegar, then sealing the cement with minerals to prevent it returning, we decided to paint the floor rather than putting down more flooring.

The pool house became my She-Shed. I moved my painting supplies and woodworking tools into it.

A week later, I painted Easter bunnies, eggs and carrots for my shop in the back yard, the snow all gone. Afterwards, I played my first nine holes at Suffolk Golf Course and loved the quaint, welcoming fairways.

We have felt at home from the moment we unpacked the truck and continually comment on how natural it feels to live here now. Each day, we find more things that bring us joy, and we both can’t wait for warm weather and outside projects.

With an acre sized yard, the dogs love it. We created a smaller yard for them around the gazebo for potty breaks, much easier to keep an eye on them. Sophia got out week two but thankfully didn’t go far and came back quickly.

Our first month flew by as we settled into our new home and got our old one ready to rent. While we adjusted to Suffolk, we had 2256 painted, carpets cleaned and a move out cleaning done. We paid $500 to have the hot tub moved over. Ron power washed and stained the back decks and we had the house on Zillow for rent by Mar. 1st.

And now, we wait for God to bring us a renter, the contractor to do the bathroom, and the electrician to hook up the hot tub. Unfortunately the electric has become an issue, much more costly than anticipated, but we found that everything cost more than expected.

But we love it and thank God every day for our new home. He opened the doors and showed us the way, all glory to Him!

Praying for many years of happiness together in our new abode. Asking God to bring us lots of company who can enjoy the beauty of the area and find love and relaxation within its walls.

And for our neighbors on the horse farm to stay our neighbors. We love to see the big beasts and hear their soft neighs drift over the wind. Another unexpected blessing we thoroughly enjoy.

February in Tidal

Left 9:06 a.m., arrived at 4:47. Couldn’t find go pro which is why I left late. Got lost in Ebensburg when I got gas at Sheetz, thought I was on 422, but wasn’t. Waste 15 minutes getting back on 422. Missed the turn at Templeton.

Went for a walk to Judy’s house as soon as we got in, Lori didn’t have a wine opener. Judy dropped us off (Facebook post). Venison steak and zucchini with parmesan cheese. Delicious. Drank a bottle of wine. Lori had her lemonade drink.

Friday, went for a long walk in the woods. Visited Bob Unger’s grave at the end. Visited Mary Lorenz a tour of the old house. Gave us three different cookies, chocolate with powdered sugar, lemon sugar cookie, butterscotch oatmeal cookie. Met Karen for lunch at Korner Restaurant. Had steak salad with french fries and coconut cream pie (Facebook post).

Had a moving sale when we moved to Dubois. Karen and Jim bought 2 of the three-wheelers and our old kitchen table.

“I know you had a moving sale, because we bought two of the three-wheelers and the kitchen table.” Karen

Went and washed the car. Then went to the overlook in East Brady. Came home, took a nap. Judy picked us up at 4:15 to go to dinner at Korner Restaurant. Had fried fish dinner, mashed potatoes and green beans. Sally Anthony was there, Greg Krow (Hornberger) mom. Told us about Bob (husband) dying in motorcycle accident. He was 60. Devastated her.

Came home. Bobby Marshal came over. Drank another bottle of wine.

Saturday, made stuffed shells (chicken and stuffing inside of pasta shells with cream of chicken soup over it). Went to Chrissy’s store and painted. Had lunch at drive thru Sheetz. Judy paid. Came home, gave our opinions on Lori’s new flooring. Walked to Lori’s mom’s for birthday celebration.

Rich, Susie, Ron, Mark, Renee, Matt, Kylie, Kerri, Joe, Maren, Waylen, Lori and I were at Judy’s birthday dinner. Made homeade icecream, brownie, hot fudge and banana split topping for dessert. They gave their mom a canvas picture of her and the four kids, and a pretty light green sweater.

Leaving Sunday morning was hard.

“And” not “Or”

For the law was given through Moses; grace and truth came through Jesus Christ.” (John 1:17 NIV),

My husband and I were doing our morning devotional. In all honesty, we were “catching up,” as we were three days behind. The devotionals are about 5 minutes long. I read the text to Ron. A reflection at the end asks a question that gets the conversation started. I love to hear Ron’s responses. Today’s was a particular favorite.

The question was essentially, are you more truth or grace?

Each of us tends towards one or the other. I lean towards truth more than grace, my husband more grace than truth.

As a Christ follower, Jesus has given us direction on how we’re supposed to live our lives. For instance the 10 Commandments is a guide to having healthy relationships. The first five are about our relationship with God: no other gods, idols, worshiping other gods or using His name in vain and one day a week for God. The last five about our relationship with others: honor mom and dad, no murder, adultery, stealing or lying. If we do those things, they will help us have healthy relationships.

Truth people want everything cut and dry. If you lie to someone, you suffer the consequences. People who lean towards truth, struggle to let people off of the hook when they “break a rule.” In other words, if someone lies to me, I have a hard time forgiving them. Grace is remembering, I too am a liar. We have all lied. If we say we haven’t, we’re lying.

Ron is grace oriented. He has the softest heart in the world, but struggles with putting his foot down. For instance, he’s doing maintenance work on our front door. I’ve asked him repeatedly to let me help, to which he kindly says, “No thanks.” I know the truth in this situation. He doesn’t want my help because he’s afraid I will injure myself. I’m a bull in a china shop. He doesn’t want to hurt my feelings by telling me the truth. He’s grace.

We need both. God is the perfect blend of both. He pairs us with people who balances out whichever way we lean.

Ron tries to spare my feelings: grace. I don’t try to spare his: truth. The two of us together make the perfect blend of both. We balance each other’s leanings when we meet in the middle. We strive for truth and grace together.

Jesus is truth and grace. He knows we’re not perfect, He loves us anyway: truth and grace. He couldn’t exist any other way. He knows the law, He fulfilled the law so we don’t have too. He understands we can’t. None of us can keep all of the laws. We needed someone who could. Jesus is that person. Truth AND grace.

Why I love Ron? He understands the “and.”

Truth AND grace, not truth OR grace. We don’t have a choice. We can’t be one or the other, we have to be both.

Observation, not judgment

“You’ve been writing that book a long time.”

To me, I hear accusation in those words, but also truth. Margaret Mitchell took ten years to write “Gone with the Wind.” I’m sure, during the decade of writing, someone said those words to her, not criticizing, but making an observation.

How many times do we take things the wrong way because of the perspective we view things from in our mind. As a sensitive writer, when someone says, “You’ve been writing that book for a long time,” sounds offensive. But in reality, its just a statement, not a judgement.

Lord help me discern the difference between observation and judgment.

Page’s Dream

Have you ever had God open one door, then abruptly close it? I have.

Aerial view of GI

My husband’s family has property in their family that dates to the revolutionary war, inherited from his mother’s side. Located on Gwynn’s Island, VA, (GI) the waterfront property overlooks Milford Haven, where the battle of Cricket Hill took place during the Revolutionary War. Owned by Humphrey Gwynn at that time, Pocahantas gave him the land for saving her life. Read the history of the island here.

Ron’s mother, Page, began life on the isalnd, born in the family home. During her dying days, while battling Alzheimer’s, she still remembered her childhood on Gwynn’s and her husband’s 2 deployments to Vietnam, her best and worst memories. Nancy, Page’s youngest sister moved to the island with her husband and expanded the original dwelling. Pictures of the house are below.

Young Ron on the Island, fishing.

My husband introduced me to the property when we dated. He spent Saturdays mowing the property, it took six hours. Located an hour from where we lived, two hours spent driving time and four hours mowing, it took the whole day. At that time, his family owned a second property on the island, Uncle Pres’s. Inland from the water, they used it as a rental property. Walter Preston Hurst married Ida Belle Callis, better known as “Auntie.” They married the same day as my grandfather, Earl Minick, married Nannie Craig. Both couples tied the knot on July 3, 1912. When Uncle Pres died in 1977, Page convinced Bob to buy the house.

Having never heard of GI before, it all seemed mysterious to me. The first time I saw its view Ron sent me a picture of the waterfront after he finished mowing. I couldn’t believe my eyes, the beauty overwhelming.

Sunrise on Nov. 1, 2018, the day I lost my job due to reorganization.
Toby helping me mow!

It didn’t take long for my husband to allow me to help with the mowing. When my husband first started mowing the property as a child, he used a non-motorized push mower. By the time I began to mow, I had the privilege of using a 1974 Wheel Horse, a beast. We replaced her with a John Deere X350 Riding Lawn Mower, much easier to drive, but not nearly as much fun as the Wheel Horse. For the first couple of years, we drove over, mowed the property and come home. With no bathroom and no privacy, wed didn’t have a choice.

The sturdy Wheel Horse mowed the property from the mid 70’s until April 16, 2016 when it broke beyond repair.
Loyd White’s house from the water
Leone Callis, Ms. Dan, Page’s Mom

Originally, White’s property united with the family property. Ron’s mom had three siblings: Ruby, Les, and Nancy. When their parents died, Ron’s grandparents, split the land into four slices for the children.

Nancy, and her husband Earl lived in the family home on the island at the time, taking care of their mother until she passed away. Ruby gave her slice to Nancy as thank you for taking care of their mother. Ron’s mom Page, bought Les’s slice from him creating two property’s. When Nancy and Earl decided to RV full-time, they sold the property to White, who tore down the family home and built a huge yellow mansion that blocked the view from the family property.

Ron found this when cleaning out his father’s house after his death.

We bought our fist camper, Lucky, in 2014. A woman Ron met through work inspired us. She had a trailer she kept in the Outer Banks and visited on weekends. Camping offered an affordable way to travel with dogs. We purchased Lucky from Scott, whom we met through Craig’s List. Naming her Lucky because of a sticker the previous owner had on the window, we spent our first night on the island that Labor Day with Lucky. The picture below is of that trip.

We had a truly magical weekend together exploring the island on our bikes and learning its hidden secrets. Beautiful weather added to the magi. I met Debbie, Davie Crockett’s daughter. His wife Shirley and Page grew up best friends up until a property dispute over the easement at the front of the properties came between them. They never spoke again after that. Shirley died first, Page didn’t go to the funeral or to see her before she died.

Lucky on GI

Staying on the island until Monday morning, the next day, my nephew, Cody died. My heart broke into pieces, never the same again. An idealistic weekend escorted in a long period of mourning.

GI became a place of healing for me over the next few years. Ron and I would go over regularly to care for the property. When Ron’s mom died, we laid her to rest in the Gwynn’s Island Cementary. We both healed from our losses as we worked with our hands to care for the place his mother loved so dearly. The shed became necessary when Uncle Pres’s house sold, and we needed a place to store the mower.

Ron built stairs down to the water for easy access. I loved kayaking, Ron not so much. But he did it for me.

View from the Crockett’s dock
Sunset kayaking

In the late 1980’s Ron’s parents started to build on the land. They laid the foundation for a future retirement home. Page’s dreamed of one day returning to her beloved island after following Bob’s Army career. Leone, Page’s mom, got sick and died while the family lived in Germany, making it impossible for her to come home.

A tornado destroyed their next door neighbor’s home, flattening it, when the family lived in Missouri. Ron remembers playing in the yard when the tornado came, “out of nowhere,” in his words. Page huddled in the storm cellar with her chidlren as the tornado passed through. Page protected her kids, as an act of God raged over their heads.

Bob, Page’s husband, did 2 one year tours in Vietnam during the war. Page gave birth to their second child, Cindy during one of them. Bob served his time in the military, but so did Page, the unsung hero that kept her family together while he achieved success. Finally, after years of doing what Bob wanted, they did what Page wanted. And so work on the house began.

The Chesapeake Bay Foundation became the deciding factor where the house sat, requiring a certain distance between the foundation and the waterfront. Once they poured the foundation started, it became grandfathered in for any further changes. So Bob and Page laid the cinder-block foundation. Ron can’t remember the actual year work began, away at JMU at the time.

Ron clearly remembers his sister’s wedding reception in 1993, it rained. Dressed in a white tux, someone got their car stuck and they had to push it out, not making it a good day. Shortly after that they began to build the house, somewhere around 1996 or 97. Work continued on the house at a slow pace, spending cash and not incurring debt.

When Page began to show signs of Alzheimer’s, work ceased on the property and the house fell into disrepair.

Married to Ron in 2012, I saw Page’s dream for the first time that summer. Each year, as we took care of the property, the house deterioated more and more. Fierce storms blew in off of the water bringing strong winds. Page always talked about the Storm of 1933, her brother Les born in it. With no bridge, her daddy went by boat to get the doctor. Only three miles long, perched on the edge of the Chesapeake Bay, the island can take a beating. Page’s dream home died along with her, except for her son, determined to keep it alive.

When the stone chimney, built incorrectly, became a safety hazard, it forced a decision. Over time, the stone’s tore away from the wall. Ron became concerned it would fall onto the neighbor’s house. The pictures below show the light coming through the gap between the wall and the fireplace. Ron talked to his dad about finishing the house. They decided to turn Page’s dream into a rental creating another source of income for his father.

Of course, turning the house into a rental meant more work for us. Ron and his dad wanted to finish the house the way Page would have wanted it finished. Wanting to salvage as much as possible, no one wanted to do the work. Ron contacted three different contractors, none of them willing to take the job.

Ron’s dad suggested my brother, Ron, whome he trusted. When Page could no longer walk up and down stairs, my brother built the needed ramp. Ron also understood our intentions, and desire to see Page’s dream come to fruition.

I’ll never forget the first time we went over after work began. I said goodbye to Ron and I’s secret place we came to love as we worked to preserve it for his mom. A place we had shared good and bad times and now would share with the world. A place where others can come and find the peace we found.

Ron’s sister and him do not have a close relationship. Upset with her father for making Ron financial Power of Attorney instead of her, she acted poorly. Informing her in an email that the work began, Ron texted her updates. However, when she saw the work done on the property father’s day of that year, she immediately called an attorney and sued us.

What we didn’t know that in May of 2018 she had her father declared incompetent. We never found out until July 2, 2019 when we received a letter from her lawyer, accusing us of elder abuse. Ironically, she committed elder abuse not telling anyone of his diagnosis, and proceeding to take money from him. Five different occasions she took money from her father for her and her children. Her father did gift us money during the 14 month time period she had him declared incompetent, but once we learned of the diagnosis, we returned the gift.

The entire time Ron’s dad made decisions, he legally couldn’t. We had no idea.

July 2, 2019 changed everything. We could no longer work on the house. His sister repeatedly accused us of stealing the money and using it to build a summer home for ourselves. The invoices my brother, a Class A Licensed Contractor, provided for the work done on the house didn’t satisfy her. She refused all efforts at reconciliation.

As a result, we had to sell the property. On April 30th, the property sold to Gerald and Forrest Taylor, buying it to finish and use as a rental. However, Mr. White, purchased the property at much higher price a month later, reuniting the two parcels.

God took us on a turbulent journey. From the start, I had threefold prayer: progress on the house, peace in the family, blessings for everyone involved. I’ve prayed it repeatedly since work began. God answered my prayer. Progress continues on the house, peace in the family and blessings for all. His sister will no longer have the GI to fight over.

In the settlement, we required Cindy to pay back the money she took from her father, not requiring the kids to return theirs. She could not prove we had stolen any money. Her constant accusations continue, even though she can’t prove any of them.

God led the way, preparing us to easily let go. After Ron signed at 2:00 p.m. on the 24th of April, 2020, we went golfing. We walked nine holes at the Cardinal Course in Newport News, one of our favorite things to do. Now that we don’t have to take care of the property, we’ll have more time for golf.

Nothing proved God’s leading more than the way our chapter of GI ended.

We found out Wednesday, April 22 that we could close on Friday. Finally done with the island, we could both barely believe it. But we still had two issues: selling the John Deere tractor and the utility trailer.

I awoke the next morning, and in my Bible reading read these verses:

“You sit around and slander your brother— your own mother’s son. While you did all this, I remained silent, and you thought I didn’t care But now I will rebuke you, listing all my charges against you.”

Psalm 50:2021 NIV

I knew then the time had come for God to move. I just didn’t know how.

When Ron got up, I asked him if he wanted me to go with him to GI to get the tractor. He said he’d rather go alone. Understanding he needed space to say goodbye on his last trip to the Island, I didn’t mind. On the way, he called Davy Crockett, the neighbor on the left, asking him if he could store the tractor on his property until he figured out what to do with it. Not only did Davy say yes, he bought the tractor. Ron couldn’t believe it, he called immediately to tell me. We praised God.

The utility trailer still remained. Purchasing a tarp to cover the tractor until Davy could put it in the garage, he went to Lowe’s. On his way, he saw another utility trailer sitting along the road, for sale for $1500. He decided to do the same thing so he wouldn’t have to drag the trailer back to our house.

On his return to the property, he saw a couple looking at the utility trailer. He stopped and asked him if they were interested in buying one. They said yes, but didn’t want to spend $1500. He told them he had one to sell for $400. They came, looked at the trailer and bought it. God took care of everything for us.

As Ron talked to the couple who bought the trailer, he told them about selling the property. They said, “It’s the end of a chapter for you.”

True, one chapter ended, making room for the next one to begin.

Dessert’s Coming

“What’s for dessert?”

Three of my favorite words in the English language. German Chocolate Cake, Banana Cream Pie (or Pudding), Cheesecake of any variety, not many desserts I don’t like. My friend Stephanie makes a Chocolate Lasagna. Just listening to her recite the recipe makes me hungry.

While writing my new book, “Love Remains,” on Faith, Hope, and Love has me thinking. Last week, I began the section on hope after much prayer and supplication. Placing faith in Jesus means we have hope for a better tomorrow. We no longer need to fear death because Christ overcame it, rising from the grave on day three. Which means the best is yet to come.

Our best day on earth can’t compare to one day in heaven. No more pain, no more tears, just Jesus and His all-encompassing, unconditional love.

But I don’t like the phrase, “the best is yet to come,” for a couple of reasons. First, the words get overused. And the phrase doesn’t give vision. Most people learn visually; the ability to picture the outcome in your mind allows you to have hope. Just like sitting down to dinner, knowing dessert’s coming.

Vanilla ice cream, dripping with hot fudge, sitting on top of a chocolate brownie, whipped cream, with a cherry on top, that you can see. Whatever precious dessert you love most, cherishing every bite, eyes clothes, mouth smiling, nostrils filled with the scent of deliciousness, can’t compare to heaven.


Nothing can we know on earth. Moments of bliss in this life, don’t compare to the marvel of the next. Our human minds can’t possibly understand the true nature of heaven.

But we can understand that dessert comes at the end of the meal. And we know, whatever awaits us, can’t compare to the first course. God saves the best for last.

Dessert’s coming!




Finding Rythm

“Have you ever heard of pace?” asked a friend.

In college, on a bike ride, I apparently had an erratic pace, according to the track star riding with me. Sometimes I cruised; other times, I stood, peddling with all my heart to climb a hill, then enjoying the swish of the wheels rolling down the other side. Pace didn’t exist in my world, all in or all out, no middle.

My friends tried to teach me rhythm when I tried out for cheerleading. I still remember standing in one of the seasoned cheerleader’s living room, her fingers snapping, setting the beat, and my two left feet trying to follow along. Miraculously, I did make the squad. But only by the grace of God.

Teams picture, of course, the reporter misspelled my name, “Minich” instead of “Minick,” a common frustration in my teenage years.
Always a base, my athletic build made a sturdy foundation.

“We need to find a rhythm.”

Fast forward thirty years to Ron still trying to teach me rhythm. As a music major, Ron knows pace and rhythm well. Unlike me, who only has two speeds, fast and faster.

“My main prayer for you is that you don’t hurt yourself.” Thanks, Honey!

Working for Manhattan-based Nautica International taught me a fast-paced lifestyle, the job’s demands creating the rhythm. After sixteen years with the company working long days, sleeping short nights, and driving or flying countless miles, I still didn’t understand my friend’s question from our bicycle ride, much less rhythm.

But Ron did, and after a particularly hectic period of back-to-back travel, Ron needed us to find a rhythm. My husband didn’t like the New York minute; he prefers the slower pace of an acoustic guitar.

And so we began to work rhythm into our lives, one negotiation after another. Kicking and screaming, I began to understand both pace and rhythm. However, I didn’t enjoy it, nor did the rhythm feel natural.

But now, as I develop my coaching skills and understand relaxed concentration in sports, I’m learning how rhythm keeps you in the moment. Discover the movement, and you will find the rhythm.

“Bounce. Hit.”

Following the movement in tennis requires keeping your eye on the ball. Forcing yourself either audibly or mentally to say “Bounce. Hit.” will tune your senses into the rhythm of the point. With tennis, you must call your shots and the opponents. Doing so keeps you engaged in the movement of the point and helps you find the rhythm.

“Back. Hit.”

In golf, the ball doesn’t move, but the club does. Following the movement in golf means becoming aware of the club head while focusing your eyes on the ball. When the club reaches the pinnacle of the backswing, “Back,” and at the point of contact, “Hit.” Golf has a slower rhythm than tennis; in a four-hour, 18-hole round, you only spend three minutes hitting the ball. Keeping your mind focused, not allowing emotions or cognitive thought to interfere with your mental game, requires relaxed concentration, “Back. Hit.”

Working on these mental exercises in my two favorite sports helped me identify rhythm in games and life.

“Trust the training. Control the mind. Be nice.” My new motto for life and faith.

After finishing a rigorous two-hour doubles match, I began to “see” rhythm. Practicing my new motto, focusing on “Bounce. Hit,” while trusting my training and maintaining a friendly demeanor with my fellow players invigorated me. For the first time, I began to understand the phrase “Playing out of my mind.”

And finally, I’m beginning to understand rhythm.

Trust. Follow.

Faith, for me, means following Jesus. Falling into step with Jesus requires seeking Him through study, conversation, connection, and community. Pursuing Christ will show you His movement. Each day requires new steps of faith. “Trust. Follow.” Step. Step. One step at a time, Jesus leads us home.

Bounce. Hit.

Back. Hit.

Trust. Follow.

Find rhythm by following the motion.

Learning Lessons

“Then, one day, you’ll turn the corner,” Lynda said.

Sitting with my mentor on the hot surface beside our favorite tennis court, gazing heavenward, Lynda taught me. Frustrated that she always beat me, no matter how much I practiced and learned, Lynda responded with love and grace. Understanding my tender heart and the impossible standards I set for myself, she knew how to encourage me.

Learning something new takes time. But with practice and persistence, one day, everything will fall into place, and you will arrive at a level you thought you would never achieve. Practice plus persistence equals payoff.

As the years passed, the more I played tennis, the more I understood Lynda’s words. When learning something new, keep pushing forward. Eventually, it does pay off. But it’s so hard not to fall back into bad habits.

Like the Israelites in the desert, the minute Moses turned his back, they started worshipping other gods. So us!

Lynda’s words meant life’s a process. Nothing happens overnight. Everything takes time, especially when learning something new. But it’s worth it.

“Do it right the first time; you don’t have to do it again.”

Dad’s voice rings in my head alongside Lynda’s; from them, I’ve learned habits matter. Take the time to build the proper habits. Wait for the ah-ha moment because it will come. You just don’t know when. Keep at it, keep trying, keep doing.

Today, I had a coaching ah-ha moment.

Lately, I’ve been thinking about who I am as a coach. As I understand that I control my thoughts and actions, I ask myself who I want to become?

Instantly, my heart answers, the woman God created me to become.

Becoming a better coach helps me become her.

I’ve begun doing two things in my off-time from coaching, playing tennis, and learning golf. Playing reminds me of the pressures players face during a match. Taking private lessons, something I’ve never done before teaches me what students feel like when they come to me.

After finishing my second private lesson, I realized the difference between learning and teaching, giving me a new perspective as a coach. My obsession with becoming a great coach made me forget the student’s perspective, the most important part of the equation.

An ah-ha moment!

To communicate with someone well, you must understand their perspective. With children, you get down on their level and look at them eye to eye. With coaches, you can learn a new sport and take some lessons. Students can’t come to my level; I must go to theirs.

As with coaching, you must go to their level to bring them to yours.

And so it is with Christ; He came to us because we can’t go to Him.

Changing perspective changed my philosophy. Looking at both sides of the spectrum helps you find balance in the middle. Widening our view allows us to observe more. The more we see, the more we know. Wisdom comes with vision.

Life still so much to learn. Corners, so many yet to turn. May I not miss any!

Chip on Your Shoulder

“How would you define chip on your shoulder?”

Looking away, Ron scratched his head, thinking about my question; he turned back to his laptop and began typing.

“I don’t know.” And so we both searched Google and found the definition contained in the picture.

Ron knocks chips off my shoulder with love. The largest one he removed came a few years back while sitting by the campfire at Gwynn’s Island on a cool summer night.

“Just because I haven’t experienced what you have, doesn’t mean I can’t sympathize with you.”

Ron’s response floored me. In a discussion about the two most life-changing events from our teenage years, I shared about my Dad’s death a few months before my seventeenth birthday. Ron’s pertained to sporting events during his youth.

“I wish my biggest problem in high school had to do with sports. I’m envious of your normal life.”

Thus Ron’s words illuminated a heavy chip on my shoulder that I didn’t know I had. And doing so, he lightened my load and helped me find fuller life. Living each day “habitually negative, combative, or have a hostile attitude” exhausted me. Letting go of the resentment I carried for God taking my Dad at such an early age truly lifted a burden from my shoulders. Sometimes, we get so used to carrying the heavyweight that letting go seems impossible.

“But Jesus looked at them and said, “With man this is impossible, but with God all things are possible.” Matthew 19:26

Faith in Christ led me to Ron, who loves me like Jesus loved the church. Unconditional love can move mountains and remove deeply ingrained chips from people’s shoulders.

And so, over our morning coffee, through the course of conversation, I thanked him for knocking chips off my shoulder and hope he will continue to do so for decades to come.

“As long as you do it with love, that’s what matters. You can’t knock chips off by yelling.”

Your right Honey, you can’t.

Old Wooden Chair

Paying $8 for the child-size rocking chair at Restore in Edenton, N.C., I had grand plans.

Opening a Prayer Booth (named because I pray blessings over it and the people who will buy my products) at Lazy Daisy in Yorktown, I envisioned a refinished chair so beautiful people lined up to purchase it.

But alas, my vision never came to fruition. Instead, the chair sat in our garage. First tucked under a folding six-foot table, protected by a tarp, then moving to other locations within the four walls.

After accidentally spray painting our neighbor’s car with white paint, Ron decided I needed a better paint station, finding a portable paint tent for me. Putting away the foldable table gave the old chair room to breathe and a new location stacked at the top of other unused items.

Toppling off a stack of Christmas boxes, causing the seat to break off, the rocking chair found its final resting place in our home. Hung from a hook in the garage, broken seat balanced precariously on it, never to move again.

Ron’s installation of solar panels on our garage roof meant we needed room. Admitting defeat, I took the chair to Goodwill in Newport News, donating it again. Scraping off the $8 price tag before placing the rocker in my car, I began wondering about its origin.

Who donated the chair last? What caused them to get rid of it? What stories would the wood tell if it could talk?

Visions of young children fighting over who got to sit in the chair popped into my mind. Worried mothers pacing the floor in the dead of night, walking back and forth past the rocker as they prayed fervently for whatever crisis to pass, the chair capturing every step. Or toddlers becoming children becoming teenagers, becoming adults as the small seat became forgotten, sitting in a corner, no one noticing its presence. Until one day, someone decided to donate the old chair, beginning a new chapter.

And now another one begins as the rocker finds its way to a new home via Goodwill. Who will buy it? What will they do with it? What stories will unfold?

Only the chair knows, and only the chair ever will.