Humble Pie in my forties, that’s what it was.  With my tail between my legs, I moved us back to Louisiana and into my parent’s home.  I needed time to establish myself — get a job, save some money, find a place to live.

My family came through in miraculous ways, and we were with them for six months.  I found a job, compliments of one of my brothers.  I found a nice house to rent in Slidell.  The job turned out to have a kind of corporate ladder that I was able to climb, and I ended up staying there for the next thirteen years.

My children, initially grieving for North Carolina, found it in their hearts to be happy in our new home and with our new life.  When I was able to afford cable and a VHS recorder, they felt they’d finally arrived!

Denis Waitley was still in my head, and his wisdom had me marching to my own drummer now.  We still had issues to deal with, but we were home.  The issues were the ones all families deal with; you know, I don’t have anything to wear; can’t I pleeeze stay out later than that?  Her bedroom is bigger than mine!

Ah, blessed trivialities.  During our thirteen years back home, we slowly but surely went from surviving to thriving, the children, my best work ever, grew in wisdom, age, and grace.  We were finding The Happy Life.