The night I tripped over my own throw-down-gauntlet, and fell into an ocean of power I never knew existed!

It was a cool night; mosquitoes gone for the season, the stars were shining brightly from an ebony sky I could only partially see through the darkened pine needles, like sketchy, thin lines, from the plethora of sapling pines caging my home into a mini-forest. As I gazed upward, a swirling cauldron of discontent, pain, confusion, and drama queen me-ism, I yelled out to God. That was where I was told He lived, so I hurled my quivering voice out and up to Him because I meant He would hear me. I was strong. I was powerful. I had controlled my destiny…until I tried to become a church go-er, that is.

You see, I wasn’t raised in a family that attended Church on Sundays. Moreover, the only times I had been in a church building was at the funerals of the deceased on either one, or the other sides, of my parents’ large families; twelve children on my daddy’s side, and ten on my momma’s side. Yeah, they were that big, so somebody was dying all the time.

As a junior in high school, I went with a friend to my first “real” church service. Not impressed, I felt no need to return for more. Needless to say, I was horribly ignorant about “church,” what it was, and was about.

two person standing near white church

country church

Not to bore you with details, let’s fast forward to me as a young wife and mother who began to cautiously attend church with my mother in law—mostly to please her, ignorant that I was entering into a new, bizarre, world where I would encounter beliefs, characters, and a way of life that would upend my way of thinking, more times than one.

On this occasion, when I threw my gauntlet down, I had tried and failed to blend in with the “Godly” crowd, you know, wanting to be one of them, yet, mostly ignorant on how to “act” like one of them. I knew I was a sinner and actually didn’t mind sinning. Go figure. However, this testament,

man sitting facing fire in pot during night

Into the fire!

is not about those church members, whom I still dearly love, or my sin.

It’s about the night I threw my gauntlet down before an Almighty God. Ignorant…all the way through! You can smile here, I do.

That night, the stars shinning, at my wits end, struggling to comprehend why my life was falling apart, I became impertinent with Jehovah God. I wholeheartedly flung His word back at Him. I had previously read this, which started it all: And if you worship God, you must worship Him in spirit and in truth. What?? Whew! That kept me up at night. You see, I was terribly vulnerable, out of my fishbowl and falling into a world I knew nothing of. It was sort of the old adage, “out of the frying pan and into the fire” thing; my life, the frying pan, and God, being the fire.

Desperate, confused, gazing up into the starry night sky, I said, “God, your word—I had learned at church that the Bible was God’s word—says that if I worship you, I have to do it in spirit and in truth. What in the world does that mean? I don’t know what “the spirit” means. And I certainly don’t know what truth you’re talking about. All these denominations, Christian sayings, do this, do that, and, the implied one, you’ll get there by becoming more like me. Yeah… Okay…

And then…that starry, cool night…I heard something. It startled me. Now, I don’t know which side of the “hearing from God” thing you fall on, but all I can tell you is what happened that night as I gazed through the pines needles at the blinking stars, and let you make your own assessment. A voice spoke in my left ear. It very cordially, but succinctly, said this: “You don’t know what you are asking.”

Oh yeah, God? So you want to have a conversation, huh? Then, my bold, ridiculous self said, “Maybe I don’t, but YOUR word, YOU said I have to worship you. And not just worship you, but worship you in SPIRIT and in TRUTH. So how can I worship you if I don’t even begin to understand what that means?”

There! I think I’ve gotcha, God!

No! I did not.

The conversation ended. Or, so I thought. But the ocean was calling naive me. Over the coming weeks, months, and even years, as I continued to read the Bible, I was lead to the life of one man. He was quite the character; a man of many talents; unique in his soulful, dynamic, and urgent belief, faith in God. He was a man of anointing, power from God; a man men followed, women loved; a man terrible, fierce in battle, yet gentle enough to swoon people, make demons flee with his music and prose.

As I learned of him, I began to know him as a man my own heart could love, follow. Apparently, God felt the same, as He said this man was a man after His own heart. Yes, you know whom I’m talking about; King David. I bet you thought it was Jesus? Well, Jesus is for another story. Ummm, maybe God was warming up my heart?

Let me say this: Becoming immersed in King David’s life, I became immersed in a power I never knew existed. I feel this same power as I write this. God was with King David, and so were His Word and His Power. David loved God and worshiped God from his heart. He danced out of his clothes before the Ark of the Covenant. He stood up for God, and God empowered David for the people of Israel, even though David was not always perfect. The psalms he wrote, the battles he fought, his life’s endeavor to serve God by serving His people, were all King David’s way of worshiping his God, whom he loved from his heart. His truth, which kept him in God’s destiny for him…? King David wholeheartedly knew and believed that God was the only God, the eternal God who created heaven and earth; the only God who should be revered, feared, loved, and believed in…God…Jehovah. Jehovah, the multifaceted one, the multiplier, many breasted, supplier, peace creating, one. I could go on and on here.

ancient antique armor armour

Challenging God

I threw down MY gauntlet of truth on Jehovah God that cool, starry night. But, in stepping forward that night, tripping over my gauntlet, I fell into an ocean called the Bible, the Word of Almighty God, Jehovah Jireh our Provider.

God, Jehovah, my heavenly Father, that night did not get angry with me. He waded me into His ocean of truth, His ocean of power, and taught me the meaning of worshiping Him in spirit and in truth by the example of a man that lived thousands of years earlier. When I think of King David, I still feel the power that surrounded him because of his worship, love of God, and living out his life as God’s servant.

Want to feel that power? Then begin to, in your heart, acknowledge Him as Jehovah God. Tell God you love Him. Now worship Him, our heavenly Father, in your spirit and in the truth that He is Jehovah God and besides Him there is no other God. When you do, you will begin to feel the power of His love. You see, He loved King David. He loved me that starry, cool night when I threw down the gauntlet of my truth. He taught me His truth and true nature of love. Now I know. And so do you. So my friends, let us worship Him in spirit and truth.

Hope you enjoyed my “test”amony!

You can follow me, leave me a comment, or email me with your thoughts. I would love to hear from you. Follow me on social media: Facebook, Twitter, Instagram and Amazon. Go to my Shop For Love Page here at Romance & the Homestead and check out my faith based books: children, inspirational non-fiction, and fictional drama, faith, family, love, and romance novels.

With love and inspiration from the Homestead,

Della


Christmas SnowFlakes: It’s Not What You Think

Hey Everyone! It’s almost Christmas and the world is stopping it’s usual rush to celebrate with family, friends, and giving and receiving. It’s a wonderful time of the year; celebrating the birth of Christ Jesus. It’s the most celebrated time of the year, all over the world.

I just wanted to celebrate with you all by giving a little bit of my heart this morning. I may not get another chance before Christmas is here. I love Christmas. However, I have had to redefine how I celebrate it over the years.

After I got married, I had a whole other family to consider and celebrate with. Then the children came along. I had to redefine my celebration because of them. Santa Clause came back into play; for them. Christmas had always been fun and exciting, and now I had even more people to celebrate with. Then we began to lose our parents; that changed our lives and how we celebrated Christmas…forever! Sadness entered in, and I’m here to testify that it never leaves. 

It was then I learned to celebrate, even through tears, sadness and even gladness, a deeper meaning, one that I had never searched for before. Whether happy or sad, I never considered what it all ultimately meant before. It was all around me, and yet I Read More


Up To Down Leadership

I have to begin by saying I have always been baffled by the term “leadership.” Now I know what leadership means, of course, and have been beneath a person’s leadership…maybe even many people.

But what makes a leader and what or who gives them a place to lead? What makes people follow some more than others?

There is a plethora of books on becoming a leader…on leadership, in all sorts of areas of life. But what made me begin to understand real leadership was something one of the greatest leaders the earth ever brought forth had said.

Jesus said: For even the Son of Man came not to be served, but to serve… (Matthew 20:28 NIV)

Now, I believe Jesus was the son of God, the living word of God, and God in the flesh. So, with that said, then it was God who really came into the world to serve humanity. He was literally…a servant. So, if He, God Jesus, was a servant, how could He be the supreme leader of all things leadership, everything natural and supernatural? There are leaders and followers, right? Right!

Read More

A Chicken in the House? No Way! Not me!

Pecking Order? Do Hens Fight?

I love cold, frosty mornings! I know it is Thanksgiving and all about turkeys, but I have a delightful chicken story that is funny! And it all started one cold, frosty morning…

And it was a good one. Everything was glittering white, with new sunshine streaming through the backyard pines. So, bundled up, I’m outside enjoying the crispness, the newness, the glittering breath-ability of it all, my breaths white as I inhale and then exhale. As I walked around, I strolled by my chicken coop and pens, as I do almost every morning, to check on my fluffy, feathery, gals and guys.

And that’s when I saw her! By the water cooler!

Now, my flock is a mixture of heritage and sex-link chickens. Heritage chickens are old breeds that are not in the chicken producing market anymore. They come from all over the world, and most are listed in The Livestock Conservatory. Sex-link chickens are crossbred chickens whose color at hatching is differentiated by sex, thus making chick sexing an easier process. Sex-links are wonderful layers, and can lay up to 300 eggs per year, according to their individual breed.

water cooler

My mixed flock loves to hang around “the water cooler,” as I like to put it. It is their job to lay me eggs, and my job is to provide water, food, dirt to dust in, and a nice straw filled, cozy nest box to do their thang! (Smile here)

One of my hens is a rose combed, brown, Leghorn, and this breed is listed as “recovering” at The Livestock Conservatory. This breed is kept mostly for eggs. So, in the fall when all the other hens were going through their annual molting process, Brownie was busy laying me nice, large, white eggs.

TIP: When hens go through their yearly molting, they don’t lay, all their protein goes into growing new feathers for the winter months.

Then, in the middle of winter, I noticed something so strange, Brownie was molting. She was doing it nicely, growing new feathers and shedding old ones, still covered in feathers, old and new.

But on this cold frosty morning, I saw her hunkered down by the water cooler, bloody, almost half of her feathers gone. Needless to say, I stopped my joyful, frosty morning walk and ran to her. I knew immediately what had happened. The other hens had pecked her down in their pecking order. She was half frozen. I had to save her!

I ran back into the house and grabbed an old towel, and then ran back. She was so frozen she couldn’t move. I wrapped her up, and ran back into the house. I gave her to Homie, got a small dog kennel, and layered it with more old towels (We keep them for things like this.) We put her in it, and I warmed a towel by the stove and placed it on top of her.

We had a short trip planned that day, to fetch our granddaughter to stay with us. I didn’t know what condition Brownie would be in when we got back. But when we arrived back home that evening, she was up in her cage with the towels thrown off. So we watered her and fed her. She gobbled it up.

My four year old granddaughter felt so sorry for poor Brownie that she went outside, bless her heart, and brought in a dry twig and put it in Brownie’s cage and said, “That’s something for Brownie to play with while in her cage.” Wasn’t that sweet?

And so…we had a chicken in the house for the next unforeseen weeks. Every day it was clean, feed, and water Brownie. And for exercise, I had to let her walk around while I shadowed her with paper towels and Clorox wipes for poo droppings. Nothing I ever wanted to do, but I had to save Brownie!

Two weeks in!

On Brownie’s third week, our granddaughter came back to stay with us. She came running to me exclaiming, “Come and see!” When I went to see, she said, “Look at Brownie! She’s grown her feathers!” Then she bent down to the cage and said, all smoochy-like, “Good job, Brownie. I’m so proud of you.” She is a hoot!

She had grown new feathers, but they were short. Brownie wasn’t ready for cold weather yet. A week later, still winter, we begun to have a warm streak where the temperature went up to seventy degrees. It was the perfect time to re-incorporate Brownie back into the flock, as her feathers, still not quiet mature, covered her well. I put her in an empty pen beside the hens for a week, for them to get a feel for each other again. A chicken peeking order can be brutal! After a week of warmth, I put Brownie back into the pen with the other hens. As I suspected, as I waited, two hens tried to fight her. But Brownie is hardy and feisty! She fought them off, and reestablished her place in the order. Good job, Brownie!

I look forward to many more of Brownie’s nice, large, white eggs.

This is my saga, my chicken story of “a chicken in the house,” something I never thought I’d do, and I’m sticking to it. This was an unusual happening at the homestead.

So, please leave a comment, like, and go to my contact page and fill it out for more happenings, inspiration, love, recipes, and go to my Shop-For-Love page to view, and preview my books: Christian Inspiration, children, and romance. It’s all there!

And thank you for stopping by!

Love, from Romance & The Homestead,

Della

striped lilly

 

 


Powerhouse Okra & Eggs Breakfast Recipe

It’s an Okra and Eggs Breakfast Kinda Day

This may sound gross to a lot of you, BUT… I put a big BUT in here because once you try it you just might love it! Know why? Over on my Stalking Your Fresh Okra Row  you can find all the great, powerhouse nutrients okra has for your body and mind.  And how much fun it is to grow and stalk this super-food okra! (Smile here)

I know it’s no longer summer, but I really wanted to share one of mine and Homie’s favorite, year-round, powerhouse, breakfasts, one that is probably not for everyone, but should be!

So, without further ado, for this great, powerhouse breakfast recipe, at a glance, you will need:

okra 1

  • 4 or 5 large eggs
  • 3 cups fresh or frozen okra—sliced
  • Salt
  • Pepper
  • ¼ cup olive oil
  • ¼ cup coconut oil
  • Whisk
  • Wooden spoon or spatula

So let’s start this quick and easy breakfast.

  1. Heat up your skillet (mine is stainless steel, but cast iron or non-stick will work) on medium heat until small droplets of water from your fingertips bead up in the hot pan and roll around.
  2. If you are using frozen okra, like me here, (from Homie’s summer garden) you will need a lid for the skillet. Not for fresh okra. (You’ll understand why as we go along here.)
  3. When the pan is hot (droplets of water beading up) put half the olive oil and half the coconut oil in. When the oils heat up, (little “waves” in the oil will appear) carefully pour the frozen okra in the hot oil and quickly clamp the lid on and give the pan a little shake back and forth so the okra doesn’t stick. I love super-foods!

    RED HOT TIP: The steam this creates, trapped by the lid, will quickly thaw the okra and begin cooking it. Steam your super-food okra for about 2 minutes, shaking the pan several more times

  4. Take the lid off and lay aside. Here, pinch the salt and pepper, to salt and pepper to taste. Here you can add other ingredients you may like. I sometimes sprinkle a pinch of dried rosemary, red pepper flakes, and even some finely diced onion for an even healthier super-food okra and egg breakfast. I have even added pre-fried sausage for some extra protein. The sky’s the limit folks! Turn the heat down to simmer and with a spatula or wooden spoon slowly sauté your super-food okra for 10 to 12 minutes until okra is tender. 
  5. If okra is fresh, not frozen, when the oil is first heated, pour in the sliced okra, season with pinches of salt and pepper, plus other ingredients of your choice. Turn your heat down to simmer and begin to sauté gently until tender; about 15 minutes or so.  

    RED HOT TIP: You may be able to use less oil with your non-stick or cast iron skillet. It seems to me to take more oil for my stainless steel. If anyone has any tips on this, please leave in the comments section! Would love to hear from you.

  6. At this point, you can start another skillet for your scrambled eggs or use the same one, as I do. With my stainless steel, I have to turn my okra out onto a plate, wash the pan, and then heat it back up to keep the eggs from sticking where the okra slightly stuck to the pan. Old timey way: Growing up here on the farm/ homestead, we shoved the sauted okra to one side of the cast iron skillet, put in some extra oil (adjust to how many eggs you use), let it heat, and then poured in the whisked eggs to scramble. As we cooked the whisked eggs, we incorporated our super-food okra (we did not understand okra as a super-food back then) right into the eggs. Wah lah! All done in one pan; you might want to try your skills at this, because it does take a little skill to do it this way. With a non-stick pan, you could possibly do the same, or turn the okra out on a plate and then begin to scramble your eggs without washing the pan in between, since nothing sticks to non-stick. (pun intended! ha ha)
  7. When my stainless steel pan is hot again (water beading up), I then put in the rest of the oils and heat them until the little waves ripple very softly and quietly across my oil.
  8. Now whisk the eggs. You can put in a dollop of milk or half-n-half here if you like. I sometimes do. Pinch the salt and pepper to taste, whisking them in.

     Pour the eggs into the hot oil. When the eggs bubble up around the edges, take your spatula and slid the eggs to one side letting the runny part run out and cover the bottom on the pan. Now, take your powerhouse, super-food okra and slid them into the cooking eggs. Slid the eggs and okra around again and begin flipping the eggs over and over incorporating the okra neatly into the eggs until the eggs look done. This only takes a minute or so. It happens very quickly.

  9. Now you have a powerhouse, super-food breakfast of okra and eggs!

eggs in pan

Enjoy them alone, or with butter-fried toast, which is my favorite. Eat your delicious, nutritious, powerhouse, super-food breakfast with your favorite toast, biscuits, bacon, sausage, jelly and jams. Here, Homie and I ate it alongside coffee, probiotic cabbage, and a little local honey. Since my brother has bees, I have some great, local honey! Aren’t I the lucky one, right?

This is such a great, powerhouse recipe for a great breakfast meal! Can you tell I’m kinda in love with the powerhouse, super-food vegetable called okra, that some say originated in Africa, and is a member of the hibiscus family? It is so great. Here, me and Homie ate on on my “Della” china! (Really, it’s name is “Della”.)

I would love to hear from you! So…give me a like, comment, and go to my Contact Page and leave me your email to receive more inspiration, love, recipes, and all things love! Oh, and don’t forget to go to my Shop for Love page to find plenty of inspiration, love, and ROMANCE from  my books!

From my kitchen to yours, happy eating, and have fun with okra!

With love, from Romance & The Homestead,

Della.

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Do You Think Your Little Ray of Sunshine Could Change the World?

And a Small Child Shall Lead Them

Having childlike faith is not always easy, but it is possible with the right inspiration!

I got my inspiration from our granddaughter as she grew in the first year of her little life with us. Of course, I shared it with Homie (Boyce) first because I was so excited by this new revelation!

Now, I want to put it in writing form and share it with you all!

Before our granddaughter, Boyce and I always prayed for our children. When they became teenagers and began dating, we started praying for our grandchildren too. This may seem strange, since we didn’t have any at this point. But looking around us in today’s culture where children were born outside the boundaries of God’s perimeters, the ones He set in the beginning with the first marriage of a man and a woman, Adam and Eve, to single moms and even single dads, worried us.

From our own teenage days, we understood how children wanted to be accepted by the culture they were growing in.  In this culture, I’ve known single girls as young as 13 begin having babies with different fathers. This wasn’t accepted as the norm in mine and Boyce’s day.  Most of the people we knew were married, for better or for worse, before children.

This is no judgment from me on anyone because I know I’m just a sinner saved by grace, like everyone else.

My testimony and revelation today that I am sharing with you are not about that, but about our granddaughter!had 2

Boyce and I prayed for our children that they would not have children until they married and were ready.  The years went by and finally they were married, but we had been praying for our grandchildren all that time too; so many prayers.

I was with my daughter and son-in-law when our granddaughter was born. I saw her lifted up the minute she came into our world and the doctor laid her on her mommy’s tummy. When she was face to face with her mommy, she smiled. Read More


Cry Me a Foggy River of Grief: My Lesson in the Spirit of Grief

Can Jesus truly wipe every tear that we cry?

Grief…is a hard thing to bear. The fog that the Spirit of Grief causes can be so painful that it will debilitate you if you are not careful. How am I acquainted with this Spirit of Grief? Well, let’s just say that foggy, painful spirit came to visit me one day unexpectedly, rushing in and overpowering me in just a few moments, taking over my life and my family’s lives.

It was a Saturday, much like any other Saturday, and me and my family were doing our usual Saturday stuff: cleaning, laundry, lounging about the house, and basically taking our languid, hot and humid, last days of summer for granted. Little did we know our lives were about to change forever; mine in a huge way!

My family and I had lived next to Momma, and had for a number of years. Saturday morning was her spa day where she went to her family friend, she had know most of her life, for her hair appointment: cut, wash, and set. And Momma more than deserved it. But this morning Momma’s car had not moved. I kept watching it, wondering why Momma hadn’t left. My oldest brother, who recently had open heart surgery, came to do his walking, as he periodically walked around the farm for his health.

Then it happened! The phone rang. I picked it up. My sister in law came on the line, upset. She told me my brother was at Momma’s house. He found her on the floor. Immediately gasping in fear, I ran and found them. On the heels of that, it began…the Spirit of Grief.

The doctor’s diagnosis: a heart attack, a stroke, and very little chance of recovery.

That is when the Spirit of Grief took over my life. I can’t tell you how devastating this was to me…and all of us. We are a large family. Seven brothers and sisters with children and grandchildren began to mourn.

I’m gonna be real here. The pain was so terrible that I cried and “snotted” up so many of my husbands shirts, in a fog of debilitating grief. He never complained, just held me when I cried. He didn’t know anything else to do…and there wasn’t anything else he could.

After her funeral, I began to cry every day. The spirit of grief took over my life. My husband and my children had to listen to me sobbing morning and night. It was horrible. Somewhere inside of me, I knew I was grieving, not just the end of Momma’s life here on earth, and I would never see her again, but the end of our family and the familiar way we loved it and viewed life. All we knew was the way it had always been. Now, it would never be the same. Our family, in many ways, would drift apart since Momma wasn’t there, our matron, our linchpin that held us all together.

There would be no familiar family dinners, people in and out of her house, hanging around, gossiping, laughing, watching grandchildren grow together. Thanksgiving, Christmas, wonderful days of love, fellowship, and closeness around her and her “table of life,” was gone. We would all have to learn a new way of life…and it would be difficult.

Every day I went to my job. Afterwards, on the way home, I would cry all the way there, in a fog, barely seeing the road, not caring if anyone saw me. I had to drive by Momma’s house to get to mine. I prayed so hard for the Lord to help me make it through. If he didn’t help me, I would not. I tried so hard to be strong, suck it up, but I couldn’t, and didn’t understand why. My heart broke every day; a river of tears poured out. Debilitating grief seemed to control me. This went on for months. For months I could not bear to think about Momma, my heart was so heavy, gripped in painful fog the Spirit of Grief brought with it. It was torture. My memories tainted with it. Grief is like a toxic weed in the garden of our happy memories.

fog of grief

But then, my tears became less as I did not cry every day. At the end of a year, my tears dried up. That painful fog, Spirit of Grief seemed to have lifted. Here, I want to tell you all how grateful, truly thankful to the Lord I am for letting me cry a river of tears for that year. My husband held me outwardly, but Jesus held me inwardly. Afterwards, I was still sad, missed her, and missed sitting on the front porch with her rocking and talking. She was salt of the earth.

What did I learn about the Spirit of Grief?

When you lose someone, you don’t have to get stuck in grief. Grief becomes a liar, a lying spirit. It tells you you have to keep it, the egregious Spirit of Grief. It says, “I’ll keep you connected to your lost loved one. Unless you use me–Grief–everyone will think you never really loved them.” Grief says, “In remembering your loved one, you have to remember them through me. I connect you. I, and I alone, can keep them alive in you, even though it is painful.”

I’m here to kick Grief in the shins! It is a lying spirit!

After crying that year, I stopped. For awhile, when I thought of Momma, I didn’t feel anything. It was strange, and I didn’t understand it. After awhile, I realized God had given me peace about Momma. This takes awhile to get to know and understand, this strange peace. A few years past. My memories of Momma began to be bright, joy filled, and a sheer pleasure. No more pain when I remembered her. Grief, that hateful, foggy, lying spirit, was gone. It could no more painfully taint my memories of Momma and our family, as we once were.

My love and joy now, now fortified in God’s peace, connected me to Momma, Daddy, my brothers, sisters, and all the grands. My memories are a true treasure, not the grief riddled ones of that whole year of crying. I realized my tears and tear ducts were there for a reason. I cried me a river of that Spirit of Grief right out of me. So, if you have lost people you love, just cry yourself a river. Pray for God to help you overcome the painful, foggy Spirit of Grief so you can remember your lost loved ones with love and joy, not through the painful, foggy, lying Spirit of Grief that only wants to taint your memories of them through pain.

When I cried, Jesus began wiping my tears until he had wiped them all.

It was a painful, yet wonderful lesson this tough, southern girl learned. Crying can be cleansing! Don’t suck it up! Cry yourself a river! I cried me a river! It saved me from the Spirit of Grief and always remembering my Momma, and the way we were, through a foggy pain.

I hope you enjoyed this. I hope it will help you as you deal with, and heal from the foggy, painful, and debilitating Spirit of Grief. It is my wish, my desire, that you let Jesus love you and wipe every tear you cry if you are in a journey through grief and pain. Through Jesus, I found a light at the end of the foggy, painful, tunnel-like Spirit of Grief. I sincerely hope you can come to know His love and healing too.

Be blessed in the Lord! And don’t forget to leave me your thoughts in the comment section. I would love to hear from you. Go to the contact page and follow me if you would like to receive my “once a month” inspirational thoughts about life, love, and romance from the homestead.

Don’t forget to check out my page, Shop for Love, where you can find all my books. Follow me on FaceBook, Twitter, and Instagram.

From Romance and the Homestead,

Della