FCC Disclaimer: No goods or services have been received in exchange for this endorsement. I just think they are funny and thought my readers would as well.
Oh wow — this song made my cry. My oldest boy is moving to Oklahoma City this weekend to start a new job and a new life. I’ve loved having him home from college these last six months. I’m going to miss him.
I didn’t run away from home like you think. Truth is, I ran away a lot. Just not like you think.
I ran away in my dreams and to the lake where I could learn banjo undisturbed. I ran away from the noise to find my voice. I ran away to Nashville and to the stage. I ran away from old lies that were holding me back. I ran away from things whispered in the dark, “you aren’t enough.”
I ran away from people who would dare tell me I wasn’t a real Christian because I wasn’t raised in the church like were.
I can’t leave God. My name is written in His hand and nothing can snatch me away.
I have been on a journey and it’s been glorious.
I found authors who dare tell the truth.
Friends who see and know ME.
I found my best friend, or she found me. Either way.
I’m still married by the way and we love each other now, more than ever.
My banjo teacher used to call me “High Strung.” Some how, I don’t think that was a compliment. I’m always in such a hurry to finish up whatever we are working on and get to the next plateau that I don’t enjoy the moment.
I’m the same way with losing weight, mastering cycling, and my career. My eyes are on the mountain tops. The next gig, the next movie, the next song.
8 months with my leg in a boot has changed that. 8 months of sitting on my front porch overlooking the cove brought such incredible peace. No late night gigs, no rushing to finish projects around the house. no exhaustion. I just got to be.. 100% wholly me and no one else for 8 whole months.
I’m not sure I want to get back in the fray. The mania of striving and networking.
I want to build my garden at the Cove, write poetry, play my banjo on my front porch, go to church, take my time cooking fabulous meals, and spend time with friends. Maybe write my book and sling some jokes here and there when I feel like it.
Rebuilding a “suitable” web page that brings “results” doesn’t have the appeal it did a year ago.
Neither does being a star.
Or chairing yet another board at church.
Sounds crazy to me though.
Meeting Howard this weekend reaffirms that change.
Howard is a luthier. It can take him a year to make ONE violin. He has 10 more he wants to make. It took him a year to rebuild ONE clock from Germany. His father purchased a real log cabin for $20, took it down row by row, transported it back to his house and rebuilt it, row by row.
I’m guessing it took longer than a week.
How is it that at 48, I can still be in as big of a hurry to grow up as I was at eight?
Deana O'Hara - Speaker, Comedian, Writer 