Turning off VACANCY signs

Some of you have already heard some exciting news

that is happening in my life. To the remainder of my

friends, I am thrilled to share with you that

Billy Ray Stanley, an evangelist from Texas, has

been courting me and has proposed

and I have accepted. 

We will wed in a private ceremony

with our families on July 27, 2013.

Glynnda McGarvey

Facebook, April 27th, 2013

A son's mother moved to Moberly 25 years ago, following his father who was elected to pastor a small mid-Missouri church.

They established bank accounts and roots. They became friends with combine drivers and made grape jelly from the vines in the backyard. The church grew and shrank and the house got new siding. Mother-in-laws moved in and sons moved out. Daughters graduated, grand-babies appeared, the lawn was mowed and the basement flooded and holidays passed with gusto and sweet potato casserole.

Over and over and over it went until life changed directions and dreams and plans melted away and a VACANCY sign appeared over hearts.

Then the son said to his mom late one night, "Here. Let's get you a Facebook account. You can keep up with your friends."

And so did the kids of a preacher-man cowboy, whose VACANCY sign had been flickering in the darkness almost as long as hers.

And their friend requests poured in and he found her, hidden among Farmville updates and eCards.

"Have a Blessed Sunday!" that first message read, a tentative reach from deep in the heart out to a Texas Girl transplanted in Midwestern cornfields.

"WHAT DOES HE MEAN, "HAVE A BLESSED SUNDAY?!?" 

She roared the question at the son who got her on Facebook to begin with.  She was suspicious of the Cowboy's intentions.

"Ride the wave," the son responded, innocuously. "Sometimes it just means hello."

It took her seven days to respond... with a blatantly casual,  "Thank you."

Then a January message lead to a March phone call and cell phones had to be plugged in because batteries couldn't keep up with stories that led late into nights of memories; two Southerners reacquainting themselves with lives lived far apart.

Kids read emails and text messages and shook their heads at the change of minds as winter struggled to stay around in the warmth of love blooming.

The Cowboy Preacher drove north into the promise of a new beginning with an old family friend. There were meetings of minds. His. Hers. Her kids. A declaration around a table bursting with chicken grilled and potatoes smashed.

And 25 years later, a Texas girl goes back home.

To horses on the Gulf Coast.
To new adventures.
To love.