faith unfaded

I moved into my temporary digs earlier this week. The historic Catalpa Kitchen House, along with the main Catalpa Plantation House in Leesville, Louisiana, is now part of James and Meriget Turner’s See Far Artist Retreat, a place for visiting artists to stay and create.

I am the first author to use the property.

You’ll read all about the property and its history, along with the Turners’ vision and my 2-week experience in next month’s issue of 318 Central.

But I had to share the moment of awe I had this morning, as well as the absolute serenity flooding my soul.

Three years ago, I’d resigned myself to accepting my life was mostly over. Ships had sailed, dreams were buried, and the best I could do was live out my days with integrity and as much happiness as I could manufacture.

That’s the difference between happiness and joy, by the way. Happiness is manufactured. Joy is an eternal gift from Above. Its cost? Surrender.

Too bad I wasted so much time thinking it was out of my price range. Turns out, it’s the best deal I’ve ever gotten.

Sitting on the swing of this plantation house — at the invitation of its owners who’d read my work and saw a worthy investment — I marveled at how much my life has changed. Dormant dreams resurrected, the unshakeable faith I’d always wanted now steady as a rock, and a manuscript detailing it all halfway written on the laptop perched atop the vintage desk inside.

As if that weren’t enough, emails were steadily rolling in about upcoming trips. Last week I’d had a Zoom conference with a Branson rep who said my portfolio embodied everything their city stood for — faith, family, and flag.

Most cities are planning big semiquincentennial events, and I have a few city visits lined up between my annual Abbey of Gethsemani retreat in Kentucky and spending a week with a dear friend at her home on Lake Huron later this summer.

But it was a potential 4th of July standalone trip that had my eyes cutting to Heaven saying, “Only you, God.” I’d reached out over the Fireworks over Mt. Rushmore event in South Dakota, then was put in touch with the U.S. Dept. of the Interior, as media for the event was being handled at a federal level.

Me, the girl who once laid in her bed thinking the best years were long gone.

Whether Mt. Rushmore works out or not, just having a seat at that table was exhilarating.

I called my mom. After all, it was my parents’ commitment to “faith, family, and flag” that built the foundation I now stand on. She asked if there was anything they made us do that I didn’t like.

I thought for a moment, and answered. “Just one. Those dang Pops in the Park concerts.”

She started to apologize when I started laughing. “Don’t apologize. Listen.” I walked inside where an MP3 player sat docked on a speaker.

I put the phone next to the speaker where symphony music was drifting through the room. “I’ve been playing this since I arrived. It’s perfect background writing music.”

She laughed. Mothers always know best.

After a few more hours at the laptop, I had an even bigger surprise. Xavier, the page manager for Developing VBR, stopped by. Xavier and I have worked together almost two years. We speak on the phone and text back and forth regularly. But we’d never met in person. He lives in Leesville, I live in Alexandria. The community webpage is a volunteer endeavor for us both. But tonight we finally met.

And he came bearing gifts! An Easter-themed basket of goodies, two Stanleys filled with self-care items and snacks, a stuffed animal, a portable charger, and (does he know me or what?) a six-pack of Cokes! A thank-you gift that was never expected, but greatly appreciated. The best gift of all was meeting in person after all this time.

So here I am — sitting on the swing — as the sun goes down and orchestra music wafts through the screened front porch door. And once again, I’m in awe at the beauty of a life that only the Creator could’ve created.