Someone recently said that I needed to tell my story. Funny, I thought I had.
But, I guess there is a lot I left out because I think most anyone that might read this is primarily interested in bison and ranching, and nutrition and health. Not ME personally or what makes me tick.
Anyway, I'm going to make a 55 year story as short as possible.
I was born in West Virginia. Never dreamed I'd be anywhere but the mountains in a small town where everyone knew each other for generations back. But, after 40+ years of cutting firewood and shoveling snow or living without electricity for a few weeks out of the year when a big storm would blow in, my husband had had enough. So, we bought a place in Jacksonville FL and "moved" south in 2014.
I had just lost my dad a few months before that, and everything was far more sentimental that I would have imagined. So, we chose to keep my homeplace -- and that allowed me to maintain my WV residency and spend at least 6 months plus a year back home. Dave works out of town Monday-Friday every week. And, sitting in Jacksonville with little to do wasn't that exciting for me.
So I worked on our place back in WV.
And, I continued the 20-years of pit bull advocacy and some rescue that had been such a huge part of my life. Plus, I began doing a lot of Second Amendment lobbying and advocacy.
It meant that I spent half my time in Charleston at the capital during legislative session, and half the time in the mountains shoveling snow (WV Legislative Session starts in January). By the time session would be over I had Spring and Summer to work on the place, see about my mom, and travel back and forth to Jacksonville to visit my kids and husband.
I just never could officially be a Floridian. Something about flat land, hot temps, and way too many people just didn't make it home.
My mom passed away in 2015, and that should have given me the kick in the pants to sell our place in WV. But I just couldn't let go of it.
It was home.
But in 2017 our oldest daughter died unexpectedly. And, no where felt like home anymore I guess if I'm being completely honest. My other two daughters were in Florida by this time, and I felt like I needed to stay close to them instead of back in WV. So, I spent a lot of time at the range...and let me say this, friends would tell me I was "depressed" and that I should see a doctor for something that might help.
I was mourning. I'm sure it made some folks uneasy when, for no reason, I'd just begin to cry. But it IS NORMAL. So, the range was my "lead therapy." It was a place where my mind didn't wander off to the 'what if's' and 'should have's' and 'new normal' reality. I stayed focused for hours as I ran through a few hundred dollars worth of ammo. Sometimes indoors when I just needed to fire off a few rounds, other times outdoors when we were running drills and using long guns and handguns.
I highly recommend "lead therapy"....and pit bulls.
In the course of 3 years I had lost both of my parents plus a child. Throughout the next year I worked at putting life back together with huge parts missing. It was a transformation that truly took me on a journey that continues still today.
As a kid, being the only daughter and youngest child, my brothers walked on water. Everything in our lives centered around them when it came to my parent's attention. I grew up believing this was perfectly normal. But I also developed a coping mechanism for all of the time I spent alone. And, that presented itself in two ways.
1) A deep love of animals - we didn't have neighbors and there weren't other kids to play with. I had horses, ducks, raccoons, dogs, cats, birds, goats....and whatever else I dragged in out of the creeks, river, or woods (yes, I grew up somewhat feral and extremely country), and; 2) Control I was such a control freak that even our vacations were planned out on a schedule to the minute. I was probably clinically OCD, everything had a place and if anything was out of place I would lose it.
Mind you, I didn't realize I was anything except normal, because as long as I can remember this was just who I was...this was me.
Growing up with brothers the center of attention also meant whatever activity they were doing is what the whole family was doing. So, our Sunday's and much of our winter's were spent at dirt tracks racing motocross. Church was the track, and the only praying I had ever really partook in was when they offered up a prayer before throwing the green flag.
But, between my dad's passing in 2014 and losing my mom in 2016 something started happening that was yet to make sense.
First, West Virginia experienced a terrible flood, a Thousand Year Flood. The rains came and the waters rose and homes and lives were swept away throughout much of the southern part of the state, and by the end 23 lives were lost and thousands of homes and businesses destroyed.
I was in Florida watching and feeling the need to be back home where I could do something (that control freak in me).
Because of lobbying, Facebook had provided me a number of 'social friends' -- people I didn't know personally but had become friends because of politics. One guy from a couple counties north of me posted on Facebook that he would be collecting items to get to the flooded areas of the state, and asked people in the community to feel free to drop off donations of water, cleaning supplies, etc.
Travis owned a gun store and had quite a number of "friends" and before the day was finished he had collected something like three trailer loads of items. He had no idea where he was going, how he would possibly get all the stuff 6 hours down the road, or who would be in need of all of the stuff. But by the end of the day he was loaded up with a few volunteers in pick ups and enclosed trailers and headed south.
Sitting in Jacksonville and watching his updates, I felt connected.
Low and behold, of ALL of the areas that needed help, Travis landed in Clendenin! I was born and raised on Elk River and Clendenin had been old stomping grounds till I had kids and moved them to our hunting cabin some 20-years prior to the flood. I reached out to Travis and told him who I knew in the area that might help if he needed it.
And from there, that connection with him grew in the oddest way.
We didn't chat regularly, hardly at all really, except through FB comments. But, when I finally reached WV and started collecting the trailer loads of pet supplies to deliver, I headed straight for Travis. By this time he had built a 'tent city' community in the streets of Clendenin. He was six hours from home for several months handing out anything and everything, cooking for flood victims, even planning a 4th of July celebration for the town complete with fireworks -- just to give folks a wee bit of normalcy.
His personal life was on hold, including his bid for WV State Representative in his district (he lost - because he wasn't home campaigning...he was doing good things for people on the other end of the state).
Anyway, Travis' posts were always filled with the word of God. And, here was a man that wasn't just posting words, but actually DOING work that I imagine Jesus would have done right beside of him.
And, for the first time I wanted to know God like that.
Truth is, I had lived many, many years completely denying God. I was 'spiritual'...but God was just a fairytale that history had made up to explain the unexplainable, and to control the masses with fear.
But, something was happening watching this complete stranger sacrifice so much to give to those that had lost everything. And, over the months that inched along I looked forward to seeing his posts and reading the scripture he'd share or praying along with the written prayers he'd post for people that had become his friends through the very worst of times.
And I questioned my doubt. And, I questioned my faith. And, somewhere through the months I made the choice to allow myself to believe without 'asking for a miracle' or 'proof' that He indeed was real. That decision led me through the doors of Travis' gun store, I had worked up the courage to share this testimony with him - face to face.
If you know me, you know this isn't easy - or at least back then it was definitely one my weaknesses. I didn't show emotion and certainly didn't discuss such thoughts. But, I was going to that day!
Yep, just as soon as the store cleared out and I could force the words across my lips....I was going to tell Travis what a profound impact he had unknowingly had in my life. And, just when I thought the store would clear out, a girl comes through the doors and saunters up to the counter where I had been hanging out for 20 minutes waiting for that perfect moment....and she blurts out her own testimony of how Travis was the reason she had gotten clean and found God and started going to church regularly and a relationship with God.
Her story was so....amazing....she was on drugs and lost and searching, decided to take her tattoo'd self into that church on that day and Travis had made her feel so welcomed that she just turned her whole life around and gave it all up to Jesus.
I mean, how could I now blurt out my own story and not sound....out of control?
So I wished Travis ado and headed home. But, in that moment, through my tears, I surrendered completely to God and embraced the journey I was now undeniably taking. I took that girls faith celebration as yet another sign, message, something that God was telling me I needed to listen to and learn from.
It would be just a few short months later that I would enter my daughters bedroom early one morning to find her collapsed on the floor. And it would be just moments later that I would realize the journey had been God knowing I'd need strength and comfort unlike any I could muster from within myself on that day.
I really don't know if I would have survived losing her if not for the fact that I found some comfort in knowing God through those moments. If I hadn't been able to silently give all my raw and uncontrolled heart to him to hold and heal.
He had worked through a 1000 year flood to bring a complete stranger into my sights through a Facebook post.
How crazy is that?
And, from that time forward I didn't question anything.
I sat down at the Thanksgiving dinner table the following fall and announced I was going back to WV for good. Before my husband could respond my two [grown] daughters concurred, and by the time my husband was picking his chin off the table from shock, his mother agreed she also wanted to go back to the mountains.
He wanted to meet in the middle. Our youngest daughter took a vacation/friend's wedding trip to Gatlinburg about that time and looking at the pictures I thought of all the summer vacations I had spent in the area as a kid. So, I suggested the Smoky's and Dave didn't disagree.
I started looking for land....and here we are. And, yes, there is still more to the story that only God's hand in the mix could have built...so much more. But, I'll save the rest for another post.
This is what is in my heart to share today...if you really want to know me.
And this is what our land looked like when we closed on it on July 3, 2019, the work Dave and I did by the end of that year. Before we tore down the old barn to build the new facility, the working pens and corrals and pounded posts and ran high tensile around half the farm the following year and a half....and continues yet today!
Thanks for sticking around and reading this far and reading about our longest journey yet.
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