What are you thankful for, the pastor asked Sunday.

One woman said she was thankful for the help she received that made moving her trailer home possible.

Are you going to say you’re thankful for moving here, too, husband asked.

Yes, but to do so would take longer than a second sermon, and I probably wouldn’t be able to make it through the first two words without tears.

On the surface, it looks like I’m crazy.

I traded in a town with a children’s museum, carousel and umpteen coffee shops for a town with 185 residents at last count, no museums and a half-hour drive to the nearest espresso. The region of Montana also is known for bitter temperatures pushed in by raging winds, with a lack of ski hills nearby.

This place, though, has become Squidget’s.

She is confident, outgoing and doesn’t need a museum, what with all the fun adventures she can get into in the sprawling barnyard. And I’m thankful for the time to enjoy those adventures with her.

I’m thankful for more than the move. I’m thankful for the kind of place that becomes part of your soul and that’s already part of Squidget’s heart.





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