This Town Still Tugs at My Heartstrings

The place I called home for 15 years, the community that helped raise my children, and the town that still tugs at my heartstrings—Rockwall, Texas.

Click here to view the full-length, eight-minute version on the Blue Ribbon News website.

Slobbery Golf Balls

It’s been over a decade since I played my last round of golf. Seven since I emptied a bucket of balls at the driving range. So, I dusted off my clubs and walked to the field behind my sister's house to practice my golf swing.

Besides being a bit rusty and digging too many divots, I didn't last long out there because of the dog. Willow chased down and chewed up the golf balls, returning the slobbery devils with more dimples than they originally had.

Yes, I could have left her inside, but I’ve missed being around this special pup. The job I started two weeks ago leaves little time for playtime with my favorite canine.

Running after golf balls just might replace Willow’s ultimate pastime—catching Frisbees.

Pinstripe Pajama Bottoms

I walked across the soggy field while still wearing my PJs. I’m sure this isn’t the last time I’ll be locked outside the house.

My sister keeps telling me people here in rural Maine don’t bolt their doors. However, it’s not like I can erase decades of automatically locking a door out of habit. That’s just what you do when living in a big city.

You might be wondering what led me outside to begin with. Well, earlier this morning, I took my computer out to the front porch. My goal was to end this writer’s block I’ve had for the last couple weeks. As my fingers hovered over the keyboard, I prayed for something inspirational to write.

I’m not sure why I got up to go inside. All I know is when I grabbed the doorknob it didn’t budge. This is the third time I’ve locked myself outside since I moved here. So, I began the long trek to the neighbor’s house across the field to get our spare key. She keeps it for us just in case.

The brown grass clippings I mowed last week littered the field and were soaked from last night’s rain. I stopped to roll up my pant legs so they wouldn’t get wet. Thankfully, a line of trees stood between me and the well-traveled country lane. At least I didn’t have to walk that road in my pinstriped bottoms and mismatched top. I’d hate to give the impression that people from Maine dress like this all the time.

Shoot, when I was a kid I used to think true-blue Mainers wore yellow rain gear all year long. The kind the fisherman on the Gorton's seafood package wears. I’ve yet to see anyone dressed like that guy. And I definitely didn’t want someone seeing me in my sleepwear. I guess that’s just the city girl in me.

You know what I just realized? My prayer for something to write about was answered. God can use any topic He sees fit. Even one as simple as being locked outside while wearing PJs.

“Ask, and it will be given to you…. For everyone who asks receives….” – Matthew 7:7-8