Category: Blog

Last night I couldn’t fall asleep. I flipped back and forth for over an hour and finally gave up. I went in the kitchen and ate a bagel with peanut butter thinking that would make me carb drunk and I’d fall asleep quickly. Who eats a bagel sammy at 1 in the morning? Apparently I do. Ten minutes later my food baby and I were sound to sleep. I did not move ‘til my alarm went off at 5:45. Anything before 7 or 8ish is still the middle of the night to me. Why would I get up before the Lord on a Friday morning? Because the tall fella with short black hair that checked me out at the Kroger yesterday told me they get their toilet paper restocked overnight. “Be here tomorrow morning at 6-6:15…it sells out fast but you’ll get you some. Been gettin’ Angelsoft 12 packs in. Pretty good stuff. Middle of the line.” “Sir, beggars can’t be choosers at this point. So grateful for the info. Have a good one.”

Now y’all, I’m NOT a hoarder but I like to be prepared. I’ve always been that way. If I’m entertaining for 10, I plan for 15 or 20. I would never forgive myself if I ran out of food for my guests! If I need 1 box of cream cheese for a recipe I buy 2 just in case I mess something up. So, although I have a couple of 4 packs of TP, one doesn’t count ‘cause it’s “green.” Most packs these days say “32 rolls of quality paper rolled into 4 rolls!” Not this one. It looks like 4 rolls but more accurately would be equivalent to four wipes…and they’ll leave rollie pollies on your “no touch’s.“ A week ago all that Publix had left was mother earth TP and at this point in all things Corona related “you get what you get and you don’t throw a fit.” So one-ply was it.

I’m not panicked, but I am concerned about the low inventory of toilet paper in our home. A few days ago I decided it would be a good idea to make a batch of “30 day bran muffins” and eat on them over the next month or so. For more fiber I threw in extra raisins, carrots, bran and nuts. Moment of silence for Cousin Eddie please. I’m concerned enough to get up at the butt crack of dawn to get to the Kroger. I wore my “What would Dolly do?” (She would give me TP) cut off shirt that I slept in with my “sisters” free fallin’, sweats and some gosh awful clodhoppers that are orange suede. Here’s the bad news. Since I was carb drunk and didn’t move a muscle in the night, I woke up with a hitch in my giddy-up and it made me walk wonkey-legged. I was looking like a piece. of. work. While it’s still dark I drive to Kroger. I get there around 6:05 and people are walking out empty handed. I see no TP. I ask a stock boy when they are putting the toilet paper out. “Oh…we never know when we’re getting it. I don’t know who told you to come at 6:00am but it’s not true.” Home boy better run is all I have to say. This nice stock boy tried to help by saying “I think some places are opening early for senior citizens. You might try that.” Bite me, punk.

I decide I’ll take my family “Chickalay” chicken minis like a nice mom/wife. I go there just to see a sign that says they open at 7:00 during Coronagate. It’s now 6:10…so I cuss at God’s chicken and drive away. To another Kroger I go. Let’s see if their mystery delivery has happened. Nada. Not one roll there either. I drive to Target. They open at 9. So I get my smarticles on and decide I’m going to look on social media to see what time my Publix opens during this time of crisis. 7:00am. Whew. I got there and sat in the parking lot for 15 minutes ‘til they opened. Guess what? At 7:00 I saw they put a sign on the door that they aren’t opening til 8:00. I literally said out loud “well doo doo.” At this point Momma needs some sleep, some TP and now some Bengay for her wonkey leg. By 7:05 I’m at another Chick-fil-a to get my family breakfast. My pleasure. I run home to deliver, tell of my shenanigans and back in the car to get to Publix by 8:00. I’m a little early and jump on insta for a minute. This cute blonde influencer type with a peppy voice starts talking about how fun day 5 of quarantine is going to be with her kids. First of all little Miz Sunshine…it’s day EIGHT! Where were you when the rest of us did as suggested?! I’m only out of prison long enough to find toilet paper ! Oh yes…the toilet paper. I run into Publix and see that my favorite employee is working. I go in for a hug only to remember that we can’t hug right now. Ugh. I get no hug aaaand…no toilet paper! I’m now emotionally spent and feel like I might as well lick the bottom of my shoe because I’ve been exposed to so many places out and about in germville. I saw somebody post that they got TP at Sams. I get there and am greeted by Mr Grumpypants who pushes a wet cart towards me. Did I mention it’s now POURING RAINING? Well it is. And they didn’t have a stinkin’ roll.

I went home. Whinny. Thinking about my hinny. Defeated. Feeling “bummed.” My phone rings. It’s my neighbor. “Hey, do you have any idea where I can get some toilet paper?” Mic drop.

I am in a season in my life where I am especially grateful for friendships. I feel really grateful to have people in my life that have my back and I have theirs. We celebrate each others victories and cry together on those days that life gets overwhelming. We encourage one another and we laugh. A lot.

As I was writing in my journal recently, I was thinking about some specific examples of how I feel blessed to have these deep relationships in my life and my mind wondered to a particular incident years ago.

It was the summer of 1992 and I was engaged to be married to an incredible Louisiana fella – who is now my husband. On a hot July weekend one of Keller’s groomsmen, his dear friend Joe, came to Nashville to visit and have some bachelor time before Keller was “in bondage.” Friday night we all visited with my parents and when Keller and Joe were getting ready to leave, my daddy, who LOVED to cook good southern food, told them “Boys, y’all come back tomorrow morning around 8:00 and I’ll have y’all the best breakfast you ever put in your mouth! Joe, you like country ham?” “Yes sir, I do.” “Alright then… 8:00 sharp it is!”

The next morning my daddy got up around 5:30, sent our dog Jake to get the paper like he did every morning, had a cup of coffee and then started cooking. Wompin’ biscuits, sorghum molasses, bacon, sausage, grits, country ham with red eye gravy, eggs and OJ made from the frozen can. It was a feast. Having people in our home brought much pleasure to my parents. Everybody was welcome in our home – and you always knew you would get some good eats. Guests leaving with the feeling that they needed to put on a robe was what my parents lived for.

Eight o’clock rolled around and it was like Christmas morning to daddy. He couldn’t wait to feed a couple of hungry boys. Ten after eight comes and I’m getting a little antsy as they hadn’t shown up yet. I’m thinking they probably overslept and are on their way. At eight fifteen I’m thinking “if he’s not dead he’s gonna be!” Daddy was trying to keep everything hot – including the grease for the sunny side eggs.

I called Keller’s house and he didn’t answer. My fiancé was a hip before hipster was cool…he had a bag phone. It was one of the first mobile phones and was about the size of a crib mattress. It was housed in a man purse that had a spiral cord attached to the headset. Even though it cost nearly as much as a mortgage payment to make a call, I rang the bag phone. No answer. About every two minutes or so I would try again. No luck. I was worried for their safety, but I was more worried that my daddy wasn’t gonna like my future husband and give him the shotgun speech.

At eight thirty my phone rings. “Keller! Are you and Joe okay? Where are you?” “Yes, we are great! I took Joe to the Shoney’s Big Boy breakfast bar. We got our moneys worth! We can hardly move we’re so full. We’re gonna go to the house and hang out for a while to recover.”

I shake my head wondering if I heard him correctly. I couldn’t believe it. I whisper in the phone “What? My dad asked y’all to breakfast and you said you would be here at 8:00. Y’all please come, he’s been cooking for 2 hours. My Daddy has worked hard and that’s how he shows love.” I look down at my new shinny ring and try to remember how much I love my man. I wondered how he had graduated from Vanderbilt without a woman to keep him in line.

Thank goodness they were only 5 minutes away. They walk in the door and Joe says “Oh my, this smells good Mr. Swanson!” “Come on in and sit down boys!” My daddy says the prayer and momma follows it up with “Amen, brother Ben, shot a rooster and killed a hen.” (No, I’m not lying). Daddy says “dig in” and hands them their plates that are loaded to the max! I’m talkin’ food touching, piled up, hungry man kind of loaded. For already being in deep food coma’s, they did an impressive job keeping a secret and shoveling in the grub. I guess Joe thought Keller’s future depended on this because he dug in and never muttered a word about his first breakfast. “Mr. Swanson, this is the best country ham I’ve ever had.” “I’m so glad you like it. Here’s the best piece right here.” He puts a piece of ham on Joe’s plate that must have come from a prize winning pig. Hog heaven.

Daddy sat and told the boys about his friend in Kentucky that cures hams and how they are the finest anywhere. While he is talking he is dishing out more food on their plates and grinning from the joy he has watching them partake. “Sop that egg up with your biscuit and it’ll make your tongue so happy it won’t know what hit it.”

At this point the boys are belching under their breath and wiping . sweat from their brows. I am dying laughing inside. I can’t even look at them in fear of howling. The worst part for them was having to sit around and visit for a while after breakfast to avoid the ole “eat and run” reputation. Keller and Joe were both as close as two coats of paint from throwing up. I, of course, was still trying to hold back from losing it.

I remember that morning for lots of reasons. I remember the joy my dad had cooking and serving others. I remember the look on Keller and Joe’s faces as they stuffed in more and more food and were about to be sick! I remember being googly eyed in love and forgiving quickly for the mistake of forgetting about breakfast. The thing I remember most is what Joe did for Keller that day. Even though he was nauseous from his first breakfast, he didn’t say a word about it. Instead, he was a good friend and sacrificed his comfort for his friend. They have been friends for over 30 years and they still have each others back.

Do you have friends in your life that you can count on and they can count on you? In his book The Four Loves, C.S. Lewis says
“Friendship is born at that moment when one man says to another: “What! You too? I thought that no one but myself . . .””

Would you please pass the jelly?
Amy

I live in Mayberry. Okay, it’s 80% Mayberry, 15% Payton Place and 5% Gladys Kravitz. If you focus on the 80% it’s all baseball, hotdogs, apple pie and Chevrolet. Most people never want to move out of my hood, so when some dear neighbors of ours decided to move to their dream home a few months ago, we were surprised and sad for us – but happy for them. Their new view from the top of the mountain was beautiful and they would only be 5 minutes away. Even if they were traitors, we still wished them the best (sort of).

The first week in their new casa they start projects to make it their own. They were thrilled and exhausted at the same time. You know how a new house can be a little weird at first? Things like the click of the air conditioning turning on. Toilets running. The settling of furniture on the hardwood flooring. All a little creepy, yet explainable. They had things like lamps turning on in the middle of the night and bedroom doors opening. More than your average new home creepy factor, but no reason to panic either.

After a few weeks in the house, one of the kids noticed the basement door open after she had shut it. Like any good parents would do, they convinced her that she, in fact, had left the door open. All was well. Then it happened again. This time to the wife. She LOCKED the door only to return to see it standing wide open.

A few nights later the husband wakes up covered in cold chills all over his body at three a.m on the dot. He runs around to check on everybody. One of their daughters woke up at exactly 3 a.m. with cold chills. No explanation.

Over the next couple of months at Mountain Manor, several more ghoulish episodes occur. The basement door continues to unlock itself and opens to welcome “visitors.” This has happened ten times or more. Lights dim randomly. French doors that are latched swing open in the middle of the night. More than once. Or twice.

On New Years Eve they hear footsteps in the house that sound like someone is walking in boots. No explanation. A few weeks later it’s one of the kids birthdays and the entire family is downstairs playing a game. Everyone of them hear loud footsteps walking the entire length of their upstairs. They all agree it sounded like the person had boots on. They say hello and go to check to see who is there. No one. Nothing. Nada. The “boots man” has visited a couple of other times since. They called the previous owner who says Boots Man visited often when they lived in the house as well. “You’ll get used to it” they said.

Okay, so you “get used to” Boots Man, but did I mention that they were awoken in the middle of the night to “someone” pounding on the front door? You guessed it. No one was there. Here’s the big kahuna. They have a pipe in a bathroom ceiling that needs repairing and slowly drips water on the top of the toilet tank. One day when they go in that bathroom and it’s dripping blood red water. They climbed up and looked at the pipes and saw more red dripping down. The next day? Back to clear. Cree. Pee.

Let me make this clear. I don’t believe in no ghost. However, I am a chicken. Not having explanations for any of these mysterious events just about slays me!

This past weekend our friends had us over for a dinner party at their Mountain Manor. If they weren’t really fun friends, I wouldn’t have gone. No way. No how! Actually, they used to be friends. After Saturday night I’m gonna have to pray about it.

It was a beautiful night. After dinner we moved to the deck to chat and enjoy the weather and the view. It was a fun night of laughter and catching up. We talked and joked about “the ghost” in the house. At around 10:00pm, the husband excused himself to go to the rest room. The rest of us continued to discuss the series of unfortunate events and how their home sits on what used to be General Beech’s den of iniquity. I’m half laughing, half freaked out to hear all of these stories!

While we were talking, the husband silently comes up the deck steps (which are behind me) and SCARES THE DAY LIVING POO OUT OF ME! I hollered like a pentecostal church lady. In the words of Fred Sanford “This is The Big One, Elizabeth! I’m coming to join ya.” I’m sending them the bill for my PTSD therapy.

I’m not sure what to make of Boots Man or any of these creepy occurrences, but I am sure that everything in our lives happens for a reason. I know that God uses everything for our good and His glory. I also know there are evil spirits. “The thief approaches with malicious intent, looking to steal, slaughter, and destroy (that’s a bummer); but I came to give life with joy and abundance (whoop, whoop!).” John 10:10. Psalm 61:1 says “He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will abide in the shadow of the Almighty. I will say to the Lord, “My refuge and my fortress, my God, in whom I trust.” That gives me peace.

I think Boots Man is what they get for moving out of Mayberry. But since I’m not a bitter person, I only have one question. “If there’s something strange in your neighborhood..WHO YOU GONNA CALL?”

Hurry on back now ya hear!
Music City McBride

Back when Keller and I had energy, time and money (i.e…before kids), we used to take each other on mystery dates. One would plan the date and take the other on a mystery. It was my turn to plan. I love to plan a good surprise…that’s half the fun for me! I looked in the paper and local magazines and found the perfect thing for the next Saturday. I was so excited and knew this would be a score. Keller would love it!

I planned the menu, the time we needed to leave our house and all that we wanted to do while out on our little excursion. I used to be Pinteresty before Pinterest was a thing. Again, that was pre-kids. I made a fancy picnic basket full of southern foods and Keller’s favorite desserts. I did the little touches like nice napkins, little notes, flowers, etc… I double checked the weather, the route and had all of the details covered. I was ready. He was as excited as an electrical engineer gets.

I load the car and lock the trunk. He had no idea if we were going somewhere fancy or casual, indoors or out, far or near. We got on 65 south and started our adventure. I was crazy excited! I like to throw as much mystery into the game as possible. I exit the interstate, drive around and then get back on again. I say things like “what’s a belayer?” “about how long is it to Georgia?” or “did you happen to bring your swim trunks?” just to throw him off.

We pass the Goose Creek exit then Spring Hill. We get close to Columbia, TN and see a bunch of traffic ahead. Keller looks at a blinking sign on the side of the interstate and says “Oh gosh, get in the left hand lane as soon as you can and go around this. It’s that mule day thing in Columbia today. We don’t want to get stuck in that crowd.”

Dagger. In. My. Heart. Yes sir re Bob, I planned all week for this. We were going to the Mule Day Parade and I now felt like a jackass. I was devastated. I thought I had nailed it. Nope. Keller now feels like a dog and is trying to back pedal as fast as possible. All of the sudden our exciting date has turned colder than a well diggers fanny.

The long line of traffic now becomes a blessing. During that time my man dug his way out of the deep hole he was in and we were able to laugh and headed on to Mule Day…just in time for the parade. We found a nice spot on the parade route and sat down to picnic and watch.

I am mesmerized by a good beauty pageant so when Miss Mule Day kicked off the parade I was tickled pink. Then came the mules. Hundreds of mules. There were mini’s, prize winning, runts and granddaddy’s. Next up – cloggers, tractors, politicians and folks that would make honey boo boo look like a Dugger. The day was making a turn for the better. Keller loved the picnic and got a kick outta the parade.

On to the festival flea market. Bandana’s, feather clips, lighters, rebel flag anything you wanted (anything), mule belt buckles, flasks, quilts, beef jerky and fried pork skins. It was a people watching jackpot. More mullets and Nascar tees than we could count.

While Keller was in line getting a free case of chewing tobacco, we overheard a little boy trying to get his dad’s attention. While tugging at his dad he kept saying “Diddy, take me to da moo poo. Take me to da moo poo! Diddy! Take me to da MOO POO!” Keller and I are trying to understand what this desperate kid in camo overalls was trying to tell his daddy. His dad stopped and looked at him and said “Ricky! hush up or imma wear you out! we will go to da mule pull in a minute!” Ooooh! MULE PULL! We couldn’t miss that!

The mule pull was a cultural experience that I recommend for everyone. At this point we are totally “when in Rome.” All in. Nonstop laughter and whooping it up. I’m grubbin’ on a deep friend turkey leg while my man is dippin’ Skoal sporting his Vanderbilt shirt, khaki pants and a John Deer flat bill. There are teams of mules pulling heavy weights to see which team can pull the farthest. Folks in the agricultural center hooped and hollered the obstinate beasts to victory while enjoying a few Pabst Blue Ribbons.

Twenty years later this date remains one of our favorites! Another that stands out was pooling our coins together from pants pockets, our cars and the bottom of my purse. We could only spend the total of the coins from those three places. We came up with nearly eight bucks and went to Taco Bell! We had food and change left over. Our stay at home Chinese themed date was hard to beat too…complete with costumes and home made fortune cookies. What could be better than getting to make up your own fortune for your cookie?! Humm, the time we wore our gnarly Bubba teeth while at Dollywood was pretty darn fun too.

Surprise your husband, boyfriend, a girlfriend or your kids (my kids LOVE mystery dates!). Get out there and go on a date!

Have fun!
Until next time,
Amy

What’s ya makin’ Nanny?
My great Aunt Annie lived on Battery Lane in Nashville. She was a
lovely proper lady of society, applied her lipstick consistently
outside the lines, and opened her home for many a cause and
party. It was the late 30’s. She asked her little neice, my mother,
to greet her guests at the door for a luncheon she was hosting in
her home. My momma was around 7 at the time and was thrilled.
My grandmother (“Nanny”), Aunt Annie’s sister was a wonderful
cook. Aunt Annie often asked Nanny to cook for special
occasions. In addition to making some mean fried chicken, she
was also a little crazy. Never certified, but if you spent any time
with her you knew. She was sweet, giving, loving, fun and
hilarious, but she also had a side of her that was a little Joan
Crawford. She had little quirks about her and an outlook on life
that if you didn’t share the same outlook, it was best to stay outta
her way when she got miffed. Most of the time my family accepted
her crazy side because she was quite entertaining!
Nanny didn’t like you to lift a lid on a pot when she was cooking…
actually she didn’t even like you in her kitchen when she was
cooking. I believe it was birthed out of her sweet side…wanting to
surprise those who would partake of her vittles. I can picture her
now…standing over her stove…stirring the steaming pots and
taking a sip of her Big Red coke. If you were brave enough to ask
Nanny what she was cooking, she would never give you a straight
answer. Ever. One answer gets repeated at every family holiday
dinner. “What are you cookin’ Nanny?” “Hearts, livers, lungs, $#
%hole, beef and tongue.” You read that correctly. That’s what she
said. Now you have a better picture of Nanny.
Back to the luncheon at Aunt Annie’s. Nanny was in the kitchen
cooking and my momma was standing at the front door dressed in
her beautiful pale blue dress, petite white gloves and new black
patent shoes…ready to greet the party goers. The ladies started
arriving in their lovely party dresses, hats, gloves and bright red
lipstick. My momma would hold her dress, curtsey and say “Hello
Mrs. Greenhills, pleased to see you” then she would guide them
to the affair.
After momma greeted all of the guests, she mingled with them
while she waited to help serve lunch. A small group of the ladies
were making conversation with momma. Mrs. Flora Jones asked
in her slow southern accent “Little miss Marilyn, something smells
good. What is your momma cooking up in the kitchen today?” I’m
sure she was waiting to hear something like creamed chicken on
Emma’s homemade biscuits. “Oh, momma’s cookin’ up some hog
nuts and cabbage for y’all.”
My mom remembers well that the ladies began to fan themselves
and say “Ooooh. Ooooh. Oh my goodness. Oh my goodness” like
they were going to faint. Momma had no idea why because she
was just repeating to them what her mom told her she was
cooking!
This makes me want to have 1930’s party and get my little neice
to greet at the door! Surely shoulder pads would take the eye off
of my “waistline” and white gloves would hide my bad manicure.
I’m sure I can find something good to cook up. Maybe some goat
gizzards and buffalo bootie. Nom nom y’all.
Until next time,
Music City McBride

Oh Deer! “Hunting” for the lesson.

You might not know this about me, but I love deer.  I think they are beautiful and are fascinating to watch.  When we lived by Percy Warner Park (where there are a plethora of deer) my family would “bid” on the number they think we would see as we drove down Chickering Lane.  We would laugh together and change our numbers the further we got down the road.  If we saw 8 deer and one of the girls had called 5, she would quickly change her number to 9 or 10 in hopes of winning the game!  We drove down that street a lot…sometimes we would play that game numerous times a day.

This morning I woke up to deer in the field behind our house.  When Annie hollered “deer!” I ran to the window.  I parked myself there til they moved on (a good 15 minutes). I am fairly certain that my “high” for the day happened at 6 a.m.

So this morning I am smiling because I think that God had those deer wonder off their path for me. I’m no walking wikipedia on deer nor a Biblical scholar, but I have a few thoughts going through my head (that’s rare thing before 9 a.m.) so I started googling and journaling. I thought I’d let you into my journal today (yikes).

Why the deer today?

The first time deer are mentioned in the Bible is in Genesis 49 about Jacob’s prophecy to his sons. It says “Naphtali is like a deer running free that gives birth to lovely fawns. Joseph is like a wild donkey.”  In general, my spirit is more like a wild donkey (refrain from comments:), yet I am drawn to the gentleness of a deer (don’t get me wrong, if I woke up to a bunch of asses in the field I wouldn’t take my eyes off of them either). I think if deer could talk its words would be gentle and kind. Thats how I want my words to be.

One thing that is fascinating to me is how a deer can jump over tall fences. I get wide eyed and hold my breath watching as I am doubting that they will make it. Isaiah 35:6 “The lame will leap like a deer.”  When God does something He usually makes it memorable.  Leaping like a deer must be significant.  I googled.  A red kangaroo can leap like a boss.  Why didn’t God reference a red kangaroo?  I have no idea besides how graceful and effortless a deer makes obstacles look. I would like to face obstacles in my life like a deer…trusting God to clear me over the fence and having faith to know that He will lift me over it when I am overcome by fear and can’t take that next step.

Psalm 18:33 says “He makes my feet like the feet of a deer. He helps me stand on the highest places.” and Habakkuk 3:19 “The Sovereign Lord is my strength…He makes me as surefooted as a deer.”

A deer is firmly planted…confident…surefooted. He does not look down when he runs…but holds his head high and looks ahead. I want to be like a deer and trust God that He is placing my feet in secure places. God is ordering my steps and I want to look up and be confident that I am surefooted when I keep my gaze on Him. I am convinced that one day I will die from falling and have pneumonia set in because I’m not too surefooted! Maybe I should sit in these verses for a while!

Proverbs and Song of Solomon both compare a deer and a doe in a marriage relationship…loving each other and comparing it to Christ’s love for His church. Because I really don’t want to talk about breasts, I’m just going to ask you to trust me on this one. Love. Beauty. Tenderness. Respect.

Lastly, the first verse that comes to mind when I think of deer is Psalm 42:1 “As the deer pants for streams of water, so my soul longs for you, my God.”  I wish I always longed for God but I really like to control things (ask my kids). A deer knows that water is life giving for them. I know in my head that Christ is the only one that can fill me up.  Yet I run to other things. So often I am Paul in Romans 7 “For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate, I do.” 

I am thankful that God is less worried about my behavior and way more interested in transforming my heart to be more like His. The lie I often get sucked into is that the better I preform, the more God loves me. Hebrews 13:8 says that He never changes.  That means His love never changes for me (or you)…which means that I can listen to the lies in my head or I can believe the truth of His word. Ephesians 3 says “…may you be able to feel and understand (God’s love)…how long, how wide, how deep, and how high his love really is and to experience this love for yourselves.” The more I move towards Him and drink of His life giving water, the more I understand His love…and my heart is transformed.

God sending those deer for me to enjoy today was a reminder that He loves me. No matter what you and I have ever done or have failed to do, God loves us with an everlasting love and has a wonderful plan and purpose for your life. And we just drank living water.  

I want to see an albino deer. You heard me right. It would be on my bucket list if I had one. Pure white. Majestic. It would be breath taking to me. If I saw an albino buck, I would prolly wet my pants!

There are a handful of albino deer in the Nashville area. A few days ago my husband saw one on the grounds of a church close to our home. Since then I have pretty much camped out in the church parking lot in hopes of a sighting. I haven’t even seen a brown deer much less a lily white one. Dang him. He didn’t get a picture to prove it so I’m a little skeptical anyways.

Rare. Breathtaking. A special sight it would be for sure. But I wonder how they feel. They may feel like the cats meow…but they may feel different.  They may feel uncomfortable in their own skin. I wonder if they live in fear because they are much more vulnerable to other wild life and to hunters. Hiding would not be easy…except in the snow, of course. I bet they sunburn easily too (relatable). I wonder if the other deer think they are odd and pick them last in all their little reindeer games?

Someone I love with all of my heart feels like what I think an albino deer must sometimes feel like. She feels different. She feels alone.  Sometimes she feels unimportant. I am talking about my oldest daughter.

Mallory has struggled with depression, anxiety and attention deficit issues for several years. She has wanted to be “normal” for such a long time. You know what stinks?  Being an teenager AND an “albino deer.” It’s brutal actually. It’s not just the loneliness, it’s the things that your mind tells you. Things like “I am unloveable”…or “I will never do anything right.” Things like “God must be really disappointed in me.” It doesn’t really matter how many times other people speak truth to you. Your brain is imbalanced and is going to trump the truth. Depression sucks. For the person it has attacked…and for those who love them and try everything to help.

Two weeks ago I had one of the hardest days of my life. Mallory made a very courageous and mature decision to enroll in a Christian treatment program for young women. With our complete support and encouragement, and with Keller holding one hand and me holding her other, she walked through the doors of a home that is 6 hours away from our own home in Tennessee. She committed to staying there for at least six months…maybe even a year. She has given up comfort for discomfort. Familiar for unfamiliar.  iPhone for snail mail.

We have so much respect for Mallory’s decision. Our admiration of her courage is immeasurable. We feel hope. We know that suffering and brokenness brings growth and healing. Suffering shapes us and equips us to be all that we can be in Christ. In the Bible, God did amazing things through broken, damaged and down right crazy people! Some of my dearest friends have some very hard chapters in their stories. I have such respect for them and learn so much from their transparency. The world tries to tell us that struggling is a weakness. That we should feel shame. We all have stuff that we need to work on. There is no shame in honesty…the truth sets us free!

We know that God has an incredible plan for Mallory. Her suggesting and approving this post shows her maturity in being transparent and brave. She is one strong cookie. I was the one hesitant to write about her journey but she said that she would rather the truth be told than whispers and wondering.  It takes guts to do what she is doing. She doesn’t want pity or “poor pitiful’s.” She wants encouragement and prayer as she seeks lasting change. She wants the truth about her story to help others be brave enough to get help for their story. That is one amazing 19 year old y’all!

Healing comes when things are brought to The Light. She is committed to do the hard things in order to bring lasting change. 2 Corinthians 1:4 says “He comforts us in all our troubles so that we can comfort others. When they are troubled, we will be able to give them the same comfort God has given us.” I have faith that God will use Mallory’s story to comfort others in their time of need.

So why did I tell you about my interest in albino deer? Because in my opinion, they are more beautiful than the typical brown deer. I see beauty in unusual things. Normal is so boring to me.

If I see an albino deer, I know it will not be happenstance. It will not be a mistake. God made it that way.  It is breathtaking, majestic and purposeful!   So, too, is my daughter. My hope for Mallory is that, like the albino, she will know of her incredible worth, appreciate her uniqueness and enjoy it to the fullest! Now off to go “hunting.” If I spot one you’ll be the first to know.

Amy

“He makes me as surefooted as a deer, enabling me to stand on high places.” Psalms 18:33

** Mallory LOVES snail mail! Want to send her a hello? Lemme know!

You know those folks who sound like a cat coughing up a hair ball…but they think they sound like Beyonce? Well this chic was the president of that club. I’m all for making a joyful noise…let’s just make sure it’s joyful for everyone.

We can’t fully know everything about God’s nature. But I think God has a sense of humor. We have a sense of humor, and God created us in His image. That means we have God in our design. Boom. Laughter is a gift from God. Plus, God says there a time to weep and a time to laugh (obviously I haven’t gotten that verse down very well!).