My trip was long and traffic-y and I was getting bored. As I drove though Aiken, SC (where I lived as a young girl) one of my favorite songs came on the radio, Miranda Lambert’s The House That Built Me. I love this song and I found it kind of ironic that it played as I drove through the place I used to live. But as I listened to the lyrics I realized I have no connection to that song. I don’t really have one place or one home that defines my life or my childhood or where I came from.
Instead, I think it is a whole patchwork of people that built me.
Like my mother and father and brother, who have never let one single day of my life pass by without making sure I know I am loved.
And my friends in Virginia, the old ones who helped the Metjes make a true home in that beautiful valley, and my news ones, who helped the Billigs make their first home together so fun & wonderful.
And my sweet family in Missouri- my grandparents, who continue to teach me what true faith, love, and commitment looks like. And my handsome Uncle Kirk. And my cousins who suddenly transformed from family members to true blue friends.
And my husband’s warm and welcoming family in Greenville- who love me simply because Josh does.
And the Yankees, and gangsters, and teamsters across the country who taught me how to drink in a bar til 2 AM and show up to work at 6. And that you really CAN’T judge a book by its cover.
And the list goes on and on. I spent the rest of my trip home thinking many of the same things I thought on my trip to Charleston, that I am truly blessed with so many people in my life it is overwhelming. It blows my mind that one girl gets to spend her life with so many amazing people. That in a single day I can hug my best friend’s neck, hear an “I love you sweetie” from my dad, kiss my husband, and make new friends at a party.
Life is good, y’all. SUPER good!
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