If I Don’t Love Ya Grits Aint Groceries: Homesickness and Happy Dances

"If I don't love ya, grits aint groceries and thats on every poor mans plate"  It's a lyric from one of my favorite George Jones songs. So when I opened a care package from my Daddy this week and saw two boxes of grits, I knew what they signified. There was no note included, but there was no need for one because those boxes of grits meant much more than supper to me. They were my daddy’s way of sending me a little piece of home, saying I love you and hang in there.

There are sacrifices that come with chasing a dream to the other side of the country and as much as I’m loving it here in music city, I still feel utterly homesick on a regular basis. I miss Monday night family dinner and Friday pep rallies. I miss my old job at Doggy Haven and the co-workers and dogs that became like family to me. I miss my musical stomping grounds and the folks that came out regularly to support my dream. I miss my buddy Kelly Ray Smith and the hilarious and heartwarming songwriting sessions we had. And all of those things just start to scratch the surface of the life I left behind.

But this week I got to send home good news and I was reminded why I’m here making those sacrifices. On Friday, thanks to my dear new friend Jeanie, I had my first meeting with an A&R company.  Driving down music row listening to Dolly Parton sing Better Get To Livin’  it hit me ... I’M IN NASHVILLE POURING LIFE INTO MY DREAMS!!!! I really wanted to jump out of the car to do a happy dance! It was a significant moment in my story, one that I will always remember.

I’ve only lived here 8 months and I’ve already been blessed beyond belief. I’ve made friendships and memories that feed my soul and I know my cup runneth over. When the time finally arrives and I make my Opry debut I think I’ll send my Daddy a first class plane ticket and a box of grits.

Thanks for reading! I’ll see ya at the Opry!