Recently, I ran into a situation that I can say threw me for a loop. The community we live in has had an ongoing water issue, and to keep everyone updated there has been a community page created specifically for this issue. The other day we all get a notification that there’s been a new post. My heart drops slightly. I’m thinking Oh Great. What’s going on now?

So, I click on the notification and the post I see says “***** Church supports addicts!” This woman who made the post is extremely upset by the fact that a local church has brought money or food to her neighbor. I didn’t ask specifics because frankly, I was more upset by her thought process.

The church supports addicts.

Why did this upset her so much? Several of us were asking her to take this post down and after several long minutes of explaining why this was inappropriate, the post was finally taken down. By the moderator.

The church supports addicts.

What does this statement even mean that would so greatly upset her? Had she reached out to the church and been denied? Had she asked for help? She didn’t say and again, I didn’t ask.

I didn’t ask for a very specific reason. I didn’t ask because I don’t see anything wrong with supporting addicts. Now, let me explain what I mean. When I think about support I think about bills being paid and food on the table. I think about an offered trip to the grocery store. I think about sitting down with the person and inviting them to church. I think about praying for them. I think about praying with them. I think about offering them a ride to church.

According to google support as a verb means to bear all or part of the weight, to hold up. To give assistance, to enable to function or act.

The church supports addicts. And drunks. And adulterers. And profaners.

THE CHURCH SUPPORTS SINNERS!!! Why? Because we all fall short.


How did you meet your husband?

I get asked this question so often it’s hilarious. Anyone who meets us knows instantly my husband is not from around here. He doesn’t have the accent, that rolling, twangy drawl that everyone else does. Although, if you get him in the right mood, he can certainly do a good impression of that thick McDowell county lingo, and a better Jack Sparrow cannot be found.

So, what’s the truth, huh? How did this handsome, sweet, rock of my life get from NY to WV?1914669_128972619646_6204378_n We met online. We weren’t on a dating site or anything like that. We are both writers (though we barely seem to have time for it now), and we ended up writing together. I quickly found that not only did I enjoy writing stories with him, but our side commentary revealed that I generally liked the man behind the character as well.

Neither of us was looking for anything from each other. In fact, he had a someone he was talking to when we first became friends, and life was too hectic with Mom’s dialysis for me to even consider a boyfriend.

I confessed things to this man that I couldn’t tell the people I saw in my daily life. Fast forward a couple years to 2008. He’s now single, but I’m still taking care of my Mom. Mom has a stroke

Mom has a stroke in late 2008. It leaves her paralyzed on her right side. I’ll never forget going out to the car from the ER. I felt so lost in that moment. Dad was with Mom, and all my other siblings had someone to lean on. I just needed someone to talk to for a minute, just enough to calm down. I honestly cannot remember if I called him or texted him and then he called me back, but I remember the relief I felt when I heard his voice.

He started calling and texting every day to check on how we were doing. He would call when he knew we were visiting Mom and sing to her. He was there every second I needed him and our friendship grew into something that was so much more. We fell into saying I love you without any thought of it. It was just natural.

He came to WV to visit us in June 2009 with a duffel bag and nothing else, because it was just supposed to be a visit. He stayed. He chose to stay with me, with us, and in December 2009 we were married.

And that’s the story of how a NYer came to claim WV for his home.


Love Day

Yesterday was Valentine’s. A day that everyone celebrates by giving their loved ones some token of affection whether it be simple words or a physical reminder. Today, I have a question for you, for all of us really.

Are you showing your love on other days? Not just to your spouse, children, parents, siblings, etc but to everyone. Are you showing your love to the world?

If you see your neighbor stranded on the side of the road, do you stop and check on them? Or do you drive by without another thought?

As a Christian, a believer, a lover, a follower of Christ, the biggest belief that I have is love. I’m a firm believer that love can conquer anything, but in order to do that we actually have to show our love. We can’t keep it hidden away. It must be a light, a glow, a beacon in the blackest of black nights.



A big part of this is changing the way we think first. Stop thinking that everyone you see asking for money is trying to scam you. Not everyone is out to ‘screw’ you. Stop thinking that that person using the scooter at WalMart is just lazy because you can’t see anything wrong with them. Not everyone has a disability you can see right away. Stop thinking that the skinny person in their car must be pilled out of their head. Maybe they’re homeless, maybe they have a fast metabolism. Maybe they are high and need someone to pray for them, to reach out to them, to love them.

It’s the day after the day that the world celebrates love. And I’m asking everyone to please remember that. Remember the love. We’re all just human here trying to get by.



Our romance didn’t change the world, it didn’t make the world a better place. Our romance won’t go down as sensational, or scandalous, or to many even memorable. But to me, your love changed my world, it’s made me a better woman, a stronger woman. I borrow from your strength daily. To me, your love will be what I always think of no matter how dark things may get. No, your love for me didn’t change the world around us, but it changed the way I see the world and interact with the world.


In the years to come our love will continue to flourish, it will nurture our children.

Our love is as quiet as a whisper, as deep as the ocean, and as solid as a diamond.

Gvgeyuhi … with all my heart.

“Just” an EMT.


My husband is an EMT as well as beginning his firefighter training. As such, a lot of our friends are now EMTs simply because that’s the circle that he runs in.  I’ve seen a lot of facebook posts recently about how there is no such thing as “just” an EMT. I’ve also seen and heard nurses call them just ambulance drivers.

I would like to go on a more personal explanation of why EMTs are not a “just” anything. They have the capability to make a bad situation either bearable or a horrible event that will stick with you the rest of your life.  Because I took care of both my parents, I had a lot of interaction with EMS and sometimes it wasn’t a great interaction, but sometimes it was all that kept me from having a panic attack in the middle of a crisis. They’ve been both my lifeline and the person I wanted to slap.

Let me start with what was by far my worst experience, because I want to get it out of the way as I think the good interactions far outweigh the bad.

My mom had a stroke in 2008. My dad came to my room and woke me up saying simply that something was wrong. I get to their room and Mom is laying on her back staring at the ceiling, not quite able to focus on either of us. The side of her mouth had a noticeable droop as did her eyelid. She was unable to move the right side of her body, and all she could say was no. She literally could get no other word to come out. We immediately called 911. Mind you, we live in the middle of nowhere so we knew it would take time for EMS to respond. 

One of us started calling my brothers and sisters, though I honestly don’t know who. 

I will forever remember feeling desperately helpless, and then when the EMTs finally got there they sat outside and worked on paperwork before they came in, and then when they came in they looked at my mother and said, “Well, we don’t see any signs of a stroke, but we’ll transport if you want us to.” 

Looking back on this, I wish I had the understanding that I do now. I wish I had remembered names. My mother was laying there unable to move one entire side of her body, saying a very slurred no over and over with the side of her face drooping, and yet they saw no signs of a stroke. It terrifies me what could have happened had we listened to them and not pressed to have her taken to the hospital. We ended up having only about a year and a half with her after that, how much shorter could that have been? How much longer if she’d been able to get to a hospital quick enough to get the proper medicine?

This was the one and only time I ever can remember a truly horrid experience with the EMTs and first responders who seemed to become a part of our lives. There was a time before Mom’s stroke that Dad and I had went to town to get groceries. We came home to find mom passed out, laying half over the kitchen table with the phone off the hook by her feet and sick-up all over the floor. Mom never remembered this so she couldn’t tell us if she was trying to call for help. We called 911 and I think they must have grown wings because it’s the fastest I ever remember them getting to our house. The feeling of relief when they came in and took over the situation was indescribable. They administered oral glucose to bring Mom’s blood sugar back up and then we were off to the ER. (That one turned into an adventure which led to a stay in Roanoke.)

There was the time I had an allergic reaction to a medicine I was prescribed by accident and my face swelled up along with all the muscles randomly spasming and almost biting my tongue off. The EMTs spotted the rash on the side of my throat quicker that even my mom.

There have been many instances where EMS became involved in our lives, not just emergency situations either. After Mom’s stroke, it was the three times a week trips to the dialysis center. It was Mom calling and canceling her appointments and the EMTs who normally worked her calls calling back or showing up anyways and talking her into going. It was her usual team getting her a little surprise for Christmas that made her day. When she was hospitalized (because she often refused her treatments), they would call and check on her or if they saw me out they’d stop and ask how she was doing.

It’s because of this that we have never thought of the EMTs in our life as “just” anything. This continues even more now that my husband has made this his career. I’ve seen him jump from a moving vehicle to get over a bank to someone who wrecked. I’ve seen him go days without sleep while he runs calls. Going out anywhere with him is going out with the knowledge that he’s an EMT first and foremost and that if we run into any situation, he will pull over and do what he can to help. It’s being in church and knowing if his pager goes off, he will answer. It’s who an EMT is. Their first instinct is to do whatever they can to help anyone in their path. There is no such thing as “just” an EMT. It’s not “just” a job to them. It is so very much an integral part of who they are.

It’s a New Year…

So, I thought I’d take a minute and talk about my plans for 2017, try to get a little more positivity and planning in my blog. everyday

First, I want y’all to know that I plan to blog more often. 2016 was rough, and the depression kept me questioning whether or not I should post most of the things on my mind. Actually, I’m planning to do more writing in general. I miss writing. I’ve always loved it, even more than reading as I get to do with the characters as I want to.

Next, I plan to be more active physically. I say this every year and it fails, but I’m hopeful that I have a friend who will ride bikes with me this year and help keep me on track. If I could find someone who will walk with me around town that will be extremely helpful as well, although even I’m not gonna do it in the middle of winter. Way too accident prone for that idea.

(Although, as soon as we have enough snow I fully plan to ambush my cousins in a snowball fight.)

Third, I want to work on my relationships this year. With God, with family, with friends, with anyone that I love. This last year I’ve been distant with pretty much everyone, and a big part of that has been the depression and anxiety.

I would say fourth, but I think this ties in with my relationships too much – try to find a way to get the depression and anxiety under control. I’m tired of it keeping me from doing things that I want to do and things the hubby wants to do. We had so many things planned in 2016, and when it came down to it either I couldn’t do it because of my issues or hubby was also having to back out of arrangements because I needed him.

Last I think is trying to be more thankful. I’m always worried that those around me aren’t aware of just how much I appreciate and love them, especially my “inner circle”, but if it wasn’t for these people that God has put in my life I can’t help but to think that my world would shatter sometimes. So to all of you – thank you.

Let’s try to make 2017 a better year,  a happier year.

(PS – There will be a lot more looming as well!!!! I have plans y’all. )


Insert expletive.

I’m a Christian. As a Christian, I try to be very careful of the words I use. My friends tease me because of how many times they hear statements such as “You stupid fluffing piece of crap” <— in reference to my Jeep.

However in this case I can’t think of any other word except a curse to get my point across. Depression is a BITCH. This entire last year feels like it has been one continual round after another struggling to keep my head above water as far as the depression goes.

Someone asked me what I have to be depressed about. That question in and of itself shows me how little so many people still understand about depression. It’s not being sad. It’s not so much an emotion as it is a constant emotional upheaval.

It’s faking your way through each and every day and praying no one sees through your mask. It’s feeling worthless and crying when no one is around to see or try to comfort you because there is no comfort so why bother seeking it.

It’s never being good enough, no matter how many times you’re told you are.

It’s seeing yourself as continually disheveled and ugly no matter how much effort you put into how you look that day.

For me, it’s clinging so desperately to God that you’re actually afraid one day He’ll say enoughs enough and even He will be tired of you.

I am deeply and sincerely praying that in 2017, I have a few more good rounds than bad. I am praying I wake up from good dreams instead of ones of my parents saying how much they despise me. I am praying I can look in the mirror and say I am worth something and actually believe it.