I drive my husband crazy with questions like, “Do Jews as a race experience male-pattern baldness? Because all the pictures of Jesus have a full head of hair, but maybe, just maybe he had a receding hairline.” We’ve been married nearly thirty years, so the exasperated look has been replaced by a smile and a shake of the head. We’re in love, and nothing can change that.

Because first and foremost, we love Jesus. I was raised knowing Jesus. He has always been my friend. He talks to me, holds me, and smacks me around. I’m not saying which he does more of, but I’m looking for a Samaritan who’s willing to pay the bill.

We have two sons. We home schooled both of them all the way through school. Yes, all the way. Now they are college men on the way to becoming my retirement account. They are absolute opposites, except for those times when they both act like my brother-in-law.

I married a rich man. Well, I married a man who was going to be rich. He was a finance major looking to work his way up in a bank. Less than a year after I married him, the market crashed on that dream and he headed in a new direction: religion. So most of those nearly thirty years have been spent as a minister’s wife.

It’s a good life. And you’re going to buy a book, right? Because ministers, well, you know.

For those who want statistics . . . I was born in West Virginia. I lived there until I was eighteen, met my future husband, married at nineteen, and started moving at twenty. We had seven homes in fifteen years. God granted my request to stay put once the kids were school age, and we’ve been in North Carolina for fourteen years now. I love the mountains, and West Virginia is forever home, but the coastal plains have a scent that draws me back to creation; it’s salt and pine and friendship and love.

A pleasing aroma.