I’m pretty sure my heels left ruts in the red clay when my husband’s transfer pulled us from the Georgia pines to the Florida palms. I was quite happy nestled in my Southern belle box with my magnolia blossoms and sweet tea. With the help of a Country Living featured decorator, I’d finally feathered a comfortable nest, and the thought of abandoning it to renters for 18 months precipitated a major meltdown. I did not want to be uprooted again, and I refused to go.
Then I remembered the words to the Song of Ruth sung at our wedding: “Where you go, I will go; and where you lodge, I will lodge.”
I knew I had to make a choice. I could either continue to rebel and whine. I could resign myself to misery. Or, since I couldn’t erase these marriage-carved lines, I could embrace them and find a way to re-create some beauty within them.
I’m writing today over at The High Calling as we continue to discuss the book, Life after Art: What You Forgot about Life and Faith since You Left the Art Room . . .
Won’t you join me here as I share how I learned to color within the lines?