Since my last post, I've spent time thinking about what I want to do here.
I am first and foremost a Southern girl--a GRITS (Girl Raised in the South)--but, I'm changing. Not in my feelings so much about my heritage. I'm just changing.
If you've read my blog over the past several months, you know the last year and a half has been painful.These days, weeks, and months have stretched me in ways I never knew I could be pulled. I've gone through the stages of grief more than once. Up one side and down the other, as we say in the South. I've been lied to, lied about, thrown in the fire, burned, scarred ...
But somehow, I came out on the other side and discovered that the fire--the burning--did not char me; it refined me.
While I would give anything not to have had to endure these many months, and to get my old life back, I can't say I'm sad about the glitter and polish. And, right here, right now, I want to thank those who loved me through the worst of it. One in particular who heard my screams. My wails. Who listened as I beat my fist on the floor. Who understood as I threatened everything from homicide to suicide and knew I didn't mean it.
Well. Not really.
And in the midst of it, God brought someone so special, someone who would change my life and who would lead me to others who would add to the metamorphosis.
I'd like to tell you more about her. About them.