Dear Carolinas, Love Texas

Dear Carolinas, We see you. We just want you to know that you are not alone. We know what it is like to sit day after excruciating day while the heavens pour out their never-ending wrath upon you, wondering if it is ever going to end...and if it does, what might be left of life [...]


Mommy, Did You Ever Love Me at All?

It's Mother's Day. The social media feeds are stock full of the smiling faces of my friends and their moms. There are endless sentiments of devotion, gratitude, and love. And I absolutely love it. I wouldn't dream of denying that kind of immense joy to anyone. It's pure, beautiful, sweet. But it's also a mixed bag for me. [...]

Tears for a Man No One Cared Abouti

I am sitting here with tears streaming down my cheeks tonight. I cannot stop the floodgate that has opened up, and honestly I don't want to. The tears are for a man that no one cared about. But that's not entirely true. I did. His name was Danny Pilcher. He was homeless - one amongst [...]

Because of Some Blankets

We hear a lot of stories these days about hatred, violence, destruction, death. I am loathe to turn on the news because it is chock full of these things and utterly depressing. It often feels like we are living a lost cause and that the good has fled from the hearts of all humanity. The [...]

Thank God for the Day I Died

I flipped that little truck over and over again, five to six times, before we finally ended upside down on the roof and slid another fifty yards or so down the highway, leaving a half mile of debris strewn behind us. I can still, to this day, hear the sickening sound of metal being twisted to its capacity, taste the blood welling into my mouth, and smell the putrid odor of hot oil and burning paint.

But the sound I remember the loudest, the one that brings me to my knees, was the terrifying, deafening silence that followed, when all the other noise stopped. Because in that moment, I knew he was gone.

And it was my fault. I had killed him.

The Pilot Wife Life

It was November 24th, 2000—just another Thanksgiving morning. It was also the day I died. But wait, let’s backtrack a bit.

Two months earlier I was just living my life, doing whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted, with whomever I wanted. I was 24, single(ish) with suitors out the wazoo, making really good money, and the owner of my very own farmhouse on four acres in a quaint, tiny little town called Whitewater, KS.

If you asked me back then, I would have told you I was doing well. Looking back, I would tell you my life was full, but my heart was a bitter and cold abyss.

That ‘me’ was the product of years of abuse at the hands of those very people who should have loved me and protected me with their lives. I didn’t care very deeply about anything or anyone but me. I avoided deep emotional…

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The Harvey Family You Helped

Back in September, I wrote a couple of heartfelt blogs as the chaos of Hurricane Harvey consumed my beloved city - The Good Thing Harvey Washed Away and The Wrong Donations - Some Tough Words on Disaster Relief. With the massive (rather unexpected) response I was receiving, I decided to use my popularity (notoriety?) for [...]