That's What Friends Are For.

We moved.

Left our life in The Sunshine State, roaches and sand spurs and pretty beaches and glorious sunsets and rude Yankee snowbirds and hurricanes and stifling humidity and dear friends and relatives and upscale chi-chi restaurants and traffic jams and warm church embraces and Junior League and community boards and political activism and Publix (where shopping really is a pleasure) and unrelenting heat . . . and came to Alabama.

My husband's roots run deep here. Mine run even deeper.

We awake to scenery that I was born to love. Red clay clings to my sneakers and tires. The chickens remind me to greet the sunrise. Cheaha Mountain envelops me in her shadow.

Though I am so happy to be here . . . and those who know me know that . . . I miss certain people of over twenty years' acquaintance. Two of them came yesterday to visit.

Beth and Bill Monette are not friends. They are family, because we began our marriage across the street from their home, birthed and raised our children with their guidance, spent countless hours enjoying their company, counted our blessings along with theirs, and thanked the Lord they were in our life.

When Jace was born, Beth appeared at our door with a ceramic crowing rooster to display when he accomplished something great . . . a first step or a Master's degree from Alabama. When Savannah was little, Beth was her other mom—recipient of a thousand confidences.

They celebrated their fortieth anniversary with us. We were honored.

Years ago at a very low point in my life, Beth brought me a pilllow embroidered with this:  "For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future."-Jeremiah 29:11

It meant a lot. She has always been good at meaning a lot.

When I started writing, Beth was the first to read every chapter of Delaney's People. She was my promoter, encourager, motivator—everything. On the days I did not believe in myself . . . she did. Beth said, "You have a gift to share with the world."

I listened. I wrote.

Now I think she was right. 

As Alabama says:

"Oh I believe there are angels among us.
Sent down to us from somewhere up above.
They come to you and me in our darkest hours.
To show us how to live, to teach us how to give.
To guide us with the light of love."

Beth and Bill have been ours for many years. 

Love from Delta.