Someone we love very much was recently diagnosed with COVID. He is not my DNA, but he is part of my family, and I would lay my life down for him.

The crazy thing? Because of his job, he had to be tested, and found out he tested positive. In other words, he was asymptomatic. Which, praise God, is so good. He was still whisked away and in isolation for 10 days.

The thing about this virus that is so scary, you or I could be walking around and have it, and not know it. We could have no fever, no symptoms, and still test positive.

As I have been praying for him (we’ll call him D) every day, throughout the day, I keep praying that he remains asymptomatic.

But as I am prompted to pray for D multiple times, I can’t help but think about how crazy it is that someone could have COVID and have zero

I am a visual learner. Because of this, I remember things better if I write them down, and read them over and over, as opposed to just hearing it. I’ll likely forget it if I “file that in the must remember category” in my brain.

When my sister-friend Jessica shared with me that she visualizes herself handing her problems/concerns to Jesus … It really changed my perspective. Like Jessica said, she visualizes whatever she is wearing in that moment, and she pictures herself walking up to Jesus, seeing herself in the clothes she is wearing, smelling the scents she smells, the sounds she hears, etc.

I’m a foodie, so I show love through food. I receive love, through food. If someone makes a meal or a dessert for me, I receive their love. When Terry takes me out to eat, I receive love. I love food and I love loving food.

Lately, I have really been struggling with some things about our lives in this current society and country that I just can’t quite grasp. So I become like Tita in the novel, Like Water for Chocolate. Spoiler alert: Tita is only able to truly express herself when she cooks. If you haven’t read it, I will leave it at that.

When I have been cooking lately, I spend extra

There are days I feel like my eyeballs are going to get stuck in the back of my head. I’m convinced of it. I roll them so much (and so often) that I just know I’m going to scream out, “Terry! We have to go to the hospital! Preferably one with a neurosurgeon, because my eyeballs got stuck up in my brain, somewhere!”

These are the crazy things I think about when I wake up in the middle of the night. I think about something wacky, first; then roll my eyes. Then, because I’m half asleep anyway, I feel like my eyes roll too far back into my head and they won’t come back out front.

I know. I need help. But we can get to that, later.

Y’all. We as a people of God are not doing a very good job of doing what is good. And right.

No, O people, the Lord has told you what is good, and this is what he requires of you: to do what is right, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God. - Micah 6:8 (NLT)

Our pastor always tells us, “When you don’t know what

At one of my first, big political seminars, I was truly overwhelmed to be there. It was my first federal campaign, and I felt like I did not belong. Everyone else was far more experienced than I was, and I just wanted to learn and do well. One of my newly made friends there told me, “you’ll be fine. Just watch and listen. Take notes. Before long, you will be telling someone else the same thing, when they’re the new, nervous one.”

I think of that advice quite often. “Just watch and listen.”

If the world is watching us and listening to us right now, what are they seeing and hearing?

Another excellent piece of advice I received while I was still in politics was, “When you are out in public, act like a camera crew is following you around. Because more than likely, someone with a camera is watching you. Make sure whatever they are watching would not embarrass you.”

This was even before everyone and their grandma

There is a wonderful saying I refer to, often. “Never argue with a fool, onlookers might not be able to tell the difference.” - Mark Twain.

I love that saying. I try to cling to that saying when I want to engage in debates with people who post absurd theories on social media. You know the type … they believe a UFO landed in their backyard, and are convinced aliens are listening to their dinner conversations.

Okay, maybe not quite that absurd, but close to it.

I have decided I love people too much to dislike their politics. And those who say such abhorrent awful things? I want to love them. Right now, I am working hard on even liking some of them, much less love them.

But I want to love them. I am supposed to love them.

I can remember a time we could all talk about politics and shift gears and question who made the best biscuits and gravy, or

Terry and I have a precious friend who is an 85 year old woman. Her husband died in January, and as you can imagine, she misses him, terribly. Before COVID, we visited with her, took her out to eat, to a park, and just tried to be good “neighbors.” We live about half an hour from her, but close enough to see her. Her son is one of Terry’s oldest friends, so when he has been in town, we would see him, as well.

Since the pandemic, however, we obviously have not been doing things out and about with our sweet friend. When Terry’s friend, her son was in town; we sat outside on the porch, socially distanced, and ate dinner. It was nice to be around other people, even though we couldn’t hug, or be physically close.

We always get letters now, from our sweet friend. Like I said, she only lives about 30 minutes away, but she tells us about the weather and the amount of rain, the heat and humidity, as

Terry and I sat outside the other evening when a cool front moved through and brought a beautiful rain shower. When I say, “cool front” it wasn’t like a crisp, fall day. It was still warm, but I’ll take 83 degrees over 103 degrees, all day, every day!

Anyway, I could smell the rain coming and it made me smile. I remember being really little; maybe five years old, sitting on the porch swing with my grandmother and I said to her, “I smell rain!” My brother, playing not too far away and always on the ready to tease me, said, “You can’t smell rain, silly.”

My grandmother squeezed my hand and said, “Yes you can smell rain! And it’s a feeling of being closer to God.”

Now, even at 46, when I smell rain, I think about the feeling of being closer to God. That statement had such a lasting impression on me. Maybe that is why, at age 10, I recall

Our neighbors have COVID. We feel horrible for them, and helpless at the same time. They’re young. Anyway, I was making chicken enchiladas and Terry and I decided we should make a batch for them, too. We would leave it on their doorstep; no contact, yet let them know we love them and we are praying for them.

I made three pounds of chicken and shredded it, and after I made my enchilada sauce and added the chicken to the pot of sauce, I looked at it and began to doubt myself. “Is this going to be enough for tonight, and for our neighbors, too?” I questioned. One of Terry’s oldest and best friends was in town, so he and his mom were coming over for dinner. We set up the outside to where we could eat outside, socially distanced and safe, yet still visit with them.

So I had the chicken for the four of us, plus for our neighbors, and now I was wondering if I should thaw out some more chicken and cook it? Have I made a huge mistake, I wondered?

But as I began

While my precious grandmother was still living, anytime an advertisement for starving/injured dogs came on television, Grandmother would say, “Gary, (that’s my Dad) get my pocketbook.”

My dad would tell Grandmother, “Mama, you realize there are starving children and families, right here in this county, right?”

Grandmother would say, “Well yes, but right now I see those dogs.”

Bless her heart, Grandmother didn’t have much at all. But she would have given her last dime to help someone in need.

We all have gifts and focus areas. There are needs to be met, worldwide. Sadly, we often have blinders on to the world not around us, and tend to only think about what is right in front of us that we can see.

My Grandmother’s precious heart, hurting for those dogs was part of who she was. We need people who are passionate and care about all animals and taking care of them. If they did not do it, who would?

But we also need people who are concerned with feeding the hungry people in our communities and worldwide. We need people who are concerned about getting women and children out of abusive homes. We need people who are fighting against the sex trafficking and the powerful men and

My art teacher in high school was a hoot and a half. She was sweet and so funny. A little out there, at times. But she had phrases that stuck with us and bore repeating. She had a saying about people who were late to class or acted out of line. She would ask, “Have you been out, smoking that wacky weed?”

“Smoking that wacky weed” became a catchphrase for kids in my high school. If someone did something moronic or said something absurd, one of their friends would ask them, “Have you been out, smoking that wacky weed?” Wacky weed became a euphemism for craziness.

As I look around our country today, I can’t help

For the five years I was on television, for every recipe you saw me make on TV, that actual recipe had been prepared three times (at least) for the actual shoot. We learned that viewers tend to respond better, to visualization. In other words, if they could see everything that goes into what I am making, they can picture themselves doing it, as well.

So without having too much clutter for the shot, first I tried to go over the ingredients, as best and as quickly as I could. Second time with the recipe is the actual making/cooking of the dish or drink. This is where the learning for the viewer comes; from watching what I actually do. Third time for the shoot’s recipe is the actual finished product.

It goes without saying, there were many times of testing a recipe before I brought it to TV.

Do you think people most remembered what

I used to hang out with a friend who is pretty vocal about their love for Jesus and involvement in their church and community. This is not a bad thing, at all. I just think we “undo” a lot of good we do, when we talk/boast or brag about it.

So one night I was at dinner with some people and this person began talking about the money they had given to “help a lot of others” and I started feeling uncomfortable. Queasy, in fact.

Everyone at the table began saying, “Oh, you’re such a good person. That was so generous! Wow, I can’t believe you would do all of that!” Again. What this person did was extremely kind and generous. But the boasting about it part just made me feel icky. Because rather

Y’all remember when I wrote about my sister-friend Jessica telling me how she visualizes herself handing a problem over to Jesus? How she closes her eyes and pictures what she is wearing, and walks herself through the moment, feeling everything all around her, but physically handing it (whatever her “it” may be) over to Jesus? (See July 9th post).

I have to confess something to you.

I tend to keep handing the same things/same problems / same worries / same fears over and over again to Him. Tonight as I am writing this, I had to picture myself in my gray and pink pajamas, walking up to Jesus, smelling like the coconut lotion I put on after my shower, dragging this big, heavy pile of emotional mess Terry and I have been dealing with for a while now; but here’s the thing.

I already gave it to Him.

And yet, here I am again, hauling this heavy,

My precious Terry had never seen Steel Magnolias. Considering this is in my top ten favorite movies, we recorded it and watched it recently.

I have seen this movie at least 100 times, and have most of it memorized. Yet I cry, every single time.

Every. Single. Time.

And I’m not talking a tear here and there.

Nope. I’m talking about sobbing. Ugly crying. But as you well know, there is also laughing. Deep laughter. Overall, there is more laughter than tears in this movie, but it is known for being a tear-jerker. I love the story of friendship, though. I have my own group of Steel Magnolias, and cannot imagine living life, without them.

Among many of my favorite lines: “Ouiser, you sound almost chipper. What happened today, you run over a small child or something?” - Clairee. Spoiler

Several years ago, I tasted my first French wine. What took me so long? I have no idea. Ignorance, I guess. I had always heard French people are known for being snooty and stuck up, I guess this is why I avoided their wines for so long. But I bought a bottle for around $14 (it was advertised in the store’s “Under $15 greats” so I thought, “Sure! Why not?” I sampled a taste of it during the store’s tasting, and found it to be quite delicious. I could not wait to open the bottle and truly savor it.

So one evening, I decided to make a little snack plate with cheese, grapes, berries and crackers and try my new French wine. I was blown away. I love a full-bodied, bold red, and this bottle did not disappoint. Shortly after I bought my second bottle of this same wine, the Paris terrorist attacks unfolded, and my heart broke even more. I did a quick search online for the wine’s website, and reached out to them. I certainly did not expect a reply; I just wanted them to know I tried their wine and loved it, but now I felt an even closer connection to them, and was praying for them.

Not only did I hear back from them as a company; their third generation winemaker’s wife, Eve Guigal, wrote to me

A few months ago, something was pretty heavy on my heart and mind. I shrugged it off, thinking, “No way is this from God. He wouldn’t ask me to do that. Not after everything He has seen that person do.”

Every single time the thought entered my mind, I shook my head in defiance, resisting the possibility this could be a nudging from God. On that particular day, I couldn’t shake this thought, again. “Is that you, Papa?” I prayed. I could not wrap my brain around the notion God might actually ask me to do something so far outside of my comfort zone, knowing the history I have had with this person. He has seen how nice I have been and how hard I tried … no way would He expect me to reach out to this person and be nice.

“Nope. No way. No how. Uh-huh. Not happening. Push that crap out of your mind, Aimee. That person has been nothing but hateful to you. Don’t do it.”

That was the pushback from

I have no idea how many times I have shared with y’all my political mentor’s words to me, after I “retired” from politics after President George W. Bush’s reelection campaign in 2004; but I am going to share them again. “You can take the girl out of politics, but you will never take the politics out of the girl.”

She was right.

I dabbled in a couple of campaigns after 2004, offering input anytime I was asked, and helped draw up campaign outlines and fundraising plans. But I never worked in an official capacity, again, in politics.

But you still cannot take the politics out of this girl.

I watched Representative John Lewis’ funeral Thursday, and as soon as President George W. Bush began speaking, the flood of tears began to fall.

I miss him. I miss him so much.

When he said the following, I was fist pumping in our living room, “Listen, John and I had our disagreements, of course. But in the America John Lewis fought for – and the America I believe in – differences of opinion are inevitable elements and evidence of democracy in action.”

President Bush also quoted Isaiah, “Here am I, send me.” I questioned if I would have been as brave and courageous as Representative Lewis was, and allowed myself to be beaten and bloodied; jailed for trying to peacefully bring change so desperately needed.

Then, President Obama spoke

“You can take the girl out of politics, but you will never take the politics out of the girl.”

She was right.

I dabbled in a couple of campaigns after 2004, offering input anytime I was asked, and helped draw up campaign outlines and fundraising plans. But I never worked in an official capacity, again, in politics.

But you still cannot take the politics out of this girl.

I watched Representative John Lewis’ funeral yesterday, and as soon as President George W. Bush began speaking, the flood of tears began to fall.

I miss him.

When he said

Since COVID, I have been clueless as to what day it is, what time it is, etc. I am pretty good about looking at my calendar to keep up, but if you ask me in “pop quiz” fashion, I usually stammer, pause, and have to think long and hard about what day it is.

Terry and I have been acting like teenagers who have been left home, alone, with no adult supervision. We play cards until the wee hours of the morning and watch Big Bang Theory recordings and/or movies. The other night we rolled into bed around 2:30. I kid you not. 2:30 AM. But we weren’t sleepy yet. So we read for a while. I was researching new dishes I wanted to create at home and emailing ideas to myself.

The next day I woke up and it was still really dark, but I couldn’t go back to sleep. I knew if I kept tossing and turning I would wake Terry, so I climbed out of bed, grabbed my glasses and phone off the nightstand and tip-toed into the bathroom to brush my teeth. When I tapped my phone to see what time it was, imagine my shock when it said 1:15.

1:15 PM. It was dark because of the thunderstorms. My first response

Some things that happened a while back have been weighing heavily on me for a very long time. Anytime the memories creep into my mind, I am overcome with guilt, shame and heartache.

The enemy loves this. The enemy wants us to torture ourselves with our pain and suffering. Mistakes, disappointments, grief, you name it; the enemy wants to consume us with it all.

Not Papa.

“He has removed our sins as far from us as the east is from the west. The Lord is like a father to his children, tender and compassionate to those who fear him. For he knows how weak we are; he remembers we are only dust.” - Psalm 103:12-14 (NLT)

The closer we are to God, the more we are humbled. Because He loves us with a love none of us deserve. We deserve condemnation, God gives us grace.

We tend to hold grudges, but God releases our sin as far from us as the east is from the west.

If you have been told God is an angry, spiteful God, you have