Snow in the South

There’s something about snow in the South.

We don’t know how to process it when it comes.

It’s this magical glory falling onto us. This fluffy white magic that graces us every few years, knowing that we have been waiting on it.

You see Southerners watch TV. We watch the christmas movies and commercials where someone runs down their swirly stairs in their colonial style homes to peer out the window to a snowy wonderland and a brand new car with a pretty red bow.

Or what about Hallmark movies? Christmas Hallmark movies do not exist without a crisp snowy night.

But in the south… a white christmas? More like a damp chilly, sometimes in the 30s sometimes in the 80s weather? 

I actually have memories of Christmas day going for a run in shorts.

But when it snows…

Oh when it snows. Those few and far between years, we savor it. We buy out the bread and milk because THATS WHAT YOU DO.

Not because you need it, but because it’s what you do. You understand? 

We buy out the space heaters and we get all the ingredients for that crock pot soup we have been waiting to make.

We pick out the movies we will watch and know that first thing when we wake up to it we will play for a few hours before coming in and thawing out with said soup.

We will blow up instagram and facebook with what we are doing saying phrases like “snow much fun”, making our neighbors of the north laugh at us.

We pile on multiples jackets because a southerners jacket is for 40% style and 60% warmth (the ones that aren’t farmers at least).  So when it snows we really don’t know what to do. So we wear all of them.

Because in the south we seem stupid for not being able to function, but when it snows every couple of years, there’s no need to have equipment that clears roads. So we let them ice over and freeze us in for a day or so.

We savor snow and remember what we did on those days.

Let me know if you remember these? More than likely if you’re from the state of Alabama 

“The Blizzard of 93′ “

“All the times we got out of school and it never snowed 1998-2010”

“The President’s Day snow of 2010.”

“The Snow Apocalypse of 2013”

“That time it snowed twice in like a month span December 2017-January2018”

We remember those days because there’s nothing quite like them. We get to be with friends and family members we don’t normally get to be cooped up with.

We get to make miniature snow men before the sun steals them back into the ground.

We throw snow balls and take the lids off our plastic tubs to attempt to sled.

We feel the magic and we try to savor it.

My parents still talk about that “blizzard of 93′ ” where it snowed 6 inches and we lost power so we went to stay with our aunt and uncle.

There’s even a picture of my two sisters standing the in the blowing snow, one sister crying and the other happy.

I was a baby in 93, but it’s as if I remember what happened that year because we talk about it all the time.

I’ll never forget about the walk that my, now husband, took in the President’s Day snow of 2010 to ask me to prom.

Because snow in the south is something to be savored.

It’s our chance to live out the pretty christmas just a month or two late. 

It’s our chance to make that soup that it’s normally to hot outside to make or make hot chocolate just for the heck of it. 

Snow in the South marks memories for us.

Laugh at us all you want, but this will never change about us. It will continue to mark us for generations to come, and we don’t mind it one little bit. 


She Laughs


What a year!

A year of a LOT of excitement, transition, travel, discouragement, excitement, and loss.

Sold our favorite house.

We moved in with my parents.

Paid off the final balance of our student loan debt. It was supposed to take us 8 more years, but God had a better plan.

I had surgery that discovered why I had lived in so much pain for so long.

I got offered a job with a company I had wanted to work for for YEARS.

Bought an old duplex and began renovations.

Left a job that loved and blessed me well for another place that has loved and blessed me well.

Worked tirelessly on our new duplex.

Had a nervous breakdown.

Started Counseling.

Finished the duplex.

Moved in and my sister and brother in love moved next door.

Traveled to California. Loved it.

Traveled to NYC. Loved it.

My sister brought into the world ANOTHER nephew for me to love.

Lost 3 incredibly powerful people in my church family within days of each other.

Whew! What a year!

You know in it all, I struggled to be overjoyed in the happy places because I was preparing myself for the bad. Steadying and balancing my heart like “don’t get too excited, this won’t last.”

I read back through my journal from 2017 and even after great victory, I would write out “I am so afraid Lord, help me feel courageous.” “I just want to hide, I am so anxious.”

As I flipped through the pages, one full of fearful cries out to the Lord, below it I wrote out “Holy Spirit, what do you say?” and his response, “But, she laughs.”

She. Laughs.

Maybe you aren’t a listener of the Holy Spirit.

Maybe you think I am actually bonkers.

But I pulled out my phone that morning and googled “she laughs” and google promptly showed me that Proverbs 31:25 says “She is clothed in dignity and strength; she laughs without fear of the future.”

That one thing that I could not get myself to do. That one thing that the enemy tried to steal in my moments of victory was my joy and ability to LAUGH.

Isn’t that crazy? The joy of the Lord is our STRENGTH and for some reason I handed over my strength by fearing what *might* happen if….

You know, the hard things we faced in 2017 were not things I expected. In fact the things I feared most never happened, which goes to show you the force that comes against us when we are living in the middle of our greatest destiny.

I think there is no greater proof that we are where we are supposed to be than when we begin to freak out as to what’s to come. When we have push back and hurdles. When joy starts slipping. It’s because the enemy himself is afraid of the fulfillment of our God given plan.

This year, my plan is to listen to a fear and then laugh it back to where it came from. Well, try to at least.

I may be the only person that struggles with “what if” fears, but I think it’s time that we all start laughing at what we fear is coming.

That way, strength can balance us in the places of discouragement. That way strength can uphold us and encourage us when we are SUPPOSED TO BE REJOICING.

I think 2018 needs to be a year of laughter for us all.

I think we can all laugh without fear of the future. 

Photos by: Nalin Crocker 

Half of everything

The older I get the further I am from it.

The sounds of my stories from years past, the kind that tell much more meaning because time told its ending. Time gave us the ability to see the end result. I think as I think on times that have passed and what I see now, I see a new picture unfolding for myself. How to handle pain, how to approach frustration, how to engage holidays with joy and no stress.

I see how to uncover the truth even when the moment won’t paint the whole picture for me.

But I listen to stories too.  The ones where time told the ending and I use those to engage in my own life. To release my frustration or forgive myself for mistakes I’ve made.  I realize there’s always much more to the story than what’s initially being told in the moment. But I think not knowing the ending makes the process an even better story to be told.

My Dad didn’t grow up with much.

I wouldn’t go as far to say that they were impoverished, but they didn’t have abundance, but there was enough.

My grandfather used to say “we ain’t poor we just don’t have any money.”

If that isn’t a powerful perspective, I don’t know what is.


But my Dad always shares a story of one particular year in elementary school.  There was a boy in his class who didn’t have as much as they did, if my memory is correct, this boy’s father died in a farming accident and my sweet Grandmother worried herself to death over that child.  She would pack my Dad’s back pack with extra snack change to share with him, told my dad to split his “two stick popsicles” (y’all know the ones I am talking about? like a two sided popsicle in one?) in half so that little boy could have one at school, she made sure that child had something everyday at school through little ole Grover Plunkett.

My Dad was obedient, his compliancy is one of his best attributes, and he never really thought anything of what he shared.

He shared his snack change, he shared his popsicles, he shared his toys, his lunch… everything.

Decades have passed since those days, Dad hasn’t seen that little boy since those days on the playground.  He moved 3 hours south to Montgomery to be with the love of his life, my mama, and spends time “up north” just to see his family.

I can’t tell you the amount of trips he’s made to his hometown since he moved away, the land of cattle and chickens.

But one particular trip he had to stop at a service station to get a little gas for the ride back to South Alabama when a man approached him.  He was staring strangely, carrying an urgency with his eyes to speak to my Dad.  My Dad did the southern thing, nodded his head down and said “how are ya?”.

The man with urgent eyes finally said, “are you Grover Plunkett?”

My Dad nodded in agreement and a little bit of discomfort, not knowing the stranger approaching him.

Within moments of barely nodding his head, the man leapt forward, wrapping his arms around my Daddy. He yelled out to his kids who were sitting in his car and said , “Kids, come over here… I want you to meet the man who always gave me half of everything he ever had.”

I am pretty sure in those elementary moments, my Dad didn’t think he was making a difference in someone else’s life. I am almost certain he never expected someone to thank him like that three decades after it took place.

I love looking at a new year and planning new things or amplifying what’s already present.

2017 carried a lot of weight in my life. Weight that I prayed for and honestly never believed would happen. Some prayers haven’t had their full answer yet, but it’s coming. But the best thing about a new year is that it allows you to see the stories that unfold in your life. They help you see how the hard places turned beautiful through the people you met and encountered along the way.

Tell me, who in your life touched you in a capacity that can never be forgotten? Is there someone you’d like to bless and thank for who they are in your life? Maybe leap across a parking lot to wrap your arms around them? I’d love to hear from you and the stories that your life tells. Maybe tag those people to this post so they know their value in your life!