God’s Breadcrumbs at Our Feet

I finished an article yesterday, and I suppose as writing often goes—perhaps just for me—the topic lingers fresh until it slowly dissipates. This particular article is about generations, love, and forgiveness; it’s about seeing yourself in your own light, as a part of where your story began and the direction in which it is going. My God, it takes a lot of self-awareness in this world, of understanding what we don’t see directly in front of our faces, to know the next right steps to take.

This particular piece hangs heavy still. If perhaps it is picked up and published, I should clarify that I did let my mother read it before I hit send, which is something I imagine I will be doing quite often as I evolve into a writer more than a blogger. Don’t get me wrong, though. Blogging is great! Amazing, even! I’m just ready to start doing something a little different. Following my next step, so to speak.

Here I get to come and have an open conversation with people from all over the world. I have readers in South America, India, France, Canada, Africa and many from all over the United States. One particular person is Yvon Stokkink, a fellow blogger from The Netherlands. You can visit her here:  Embracing My Wings. You won’t be disappointed.

I visited Mom yesterday:  Yes, my mom, the legendary Martha Madison of Dance Arts of Bowling Green. We had coffee after I had driven the forty-five minutes back home to get a tattoo. (I won’t go down that rabbit hole; it’s a topic that is still brewing from action, to thoughts and eventually it will make its way into written word. For everything in life there is a story.)


Growing up in a city where everyone knows your family is an anomaly. My parents belonged to the country club, or rather, Dad did. Mom didn’t care for social engagements. She lived and breathed her dancing school, and GOD FORBID we should refer to it as the Studio. Everyone took dance from Mom. And then that person’s mother took dance from Mom. And then that person’s mother’s mother took dance from Mom. And then her grandmother’s second cousin who moved here in 1984 took dance from Mom. Come to think of it, Six Degrees of Martha Madison would be a rather fun game to play.

Bowling Green was a small town when I was growing up, but over the years it has changed and grown into quite the cool little city north of Nashville. Cage the Elephant is from there. Oh, and John Carpenter, the guy who wrote Halloween. Hendersonville isn’t much different from Bowling Green, although it lacks the entire WKU campus. I enjoy visiting back home because it’s a neat college town where I have strong roots, but I thank God nearly every day that I don’t live there.

It goes without saying, but I’ll say it anyway:  I absolutely love the tribe I have built here in Hendersonville from all different walks of life. Hendersonville is full of talent and good people! This is home. It’s where I have seen the most growth in my lifetime. It is where I fell in love with my life and writing again, with my family and with yoga.

One of my mentors is a beautiful woman, a yoga teacher and the owner of one of the Nashville area’s finest yoga studios. Through the language of yoga, I have learned to harmonize my thoughts, my body, and my soul. I don’t care what your spiritual life looks like, if you aren’t right in your soul, it throws life off balance. It makes us unable to see God’s (or whomever your spiritual guide may be) breadcrumbs as he puts them all around us and at our feet.