There’s a girlfriend I have, she has this motto: If you’ve come to see my house, make an appointment. If you’ve come to see me, come in! I love her for that. (*waving at JEJ!*)

She’s the most laid back woman I know. Always praising the Creator. Always happy. Always laughing. And she gives the most tremendous hugs. I love her for that, too.

I want to be like her.

Then there’s me. Stressing because someone thinks I shouldn’t have my overwhelmingly weedy garden, I shouldn’t put-up my own veggies, maybe not bake my own biscuits or make my scrumptious apple butter. I shouldn’t homeschool. I shouldn’t write or be an editor. I’m delusional, y’know, trying to do all that stuff.

I do what I love and if it makes someone else uncomfortable, how is that my problem? I’m not breaking the law. I’m not hurting anyone. I mean, really, does a vegetable garden count for making a sister stumble?

I can’t be like you and I don’t expect you to be like me. Let’s embrace those differences. Okay?

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