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Wednesday, June 8, 2011


             I wish I could eloquently put into words what peace I feel when I am at home.  I had someone tell me the other day that people think she's crazy because she knows when God's trying to tell her something.  I don't think it's crazy at all.  I knew when I was four this was the house I was going to have come hail or high water.  I can even vaguely remembering telling my grandparents that and they said, "Oh, you'll go lots of places...why settle for that ol' place."  No, I won't.  Don't want to and ain't going to.  How I ended up here is kind of funny, but I guess when God talks, and you try not to hear, He screams.
            I ended up in this house, because I'll be damned if my husband wasn't living in it.  I didn't know it for the longest time, we were just friends then.  And I was pretty disappointed when I found out he was living in my house.  I guess God decided I needed a man, too.  I'd trade this house in a heartbeat now to keep the man.
            At any rate, as luck would have it, we are both in love with each other and this ol' place.  Doesn't matter that there's millions of things that need to be done.  Doesn't matter that my countertops haven't been replaced or we've still yet to build the decks around the front I've dreamed about.  If they never get built so be it.  I could care less what other people have. I have everything I ever really wanted.  What more could you ask out of life than a home that makes you homesick before you get out of your drive and a man that loves you so much it makes you weak in the knees? 

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