• Heart

    Are You a Prepper or Preparer?

    Today’s blog is in an audio format. I’ve recently purchased audio equipment for our future podcasts, so I thought I’d try something new today. Give those people who don’t like to read a break. Please note: It may seem I have something against Preppers, but this is not true. I’ve learned many things from people on You Tube who go by that title, in this blog I’m simply using the title “Prepper” to. illustrate a worldview. (Wanted to set that record straight) Furthermore, if you haven’t read the beginnings of my journey in preparation you can read it here: https://tammycarteradams.com/2020/08/21/my-preparation-started-with-a-farmhouse/ Hope you enjoy our first audio blog…. Just click the…

  • Harvest,  Heart

    Showing Mercy During Covid.

    My brain screamed COVID! when I saw him slumped in a puddle of urine with dried vomit on his beard. I ushered my kids in a wide circle around him and into the hair salon hoping he wouldn’t awaken and glance in our direction. Inside, our stylist Chantelle told us due to the virus, my niece, Peyton and daughter would have to remain in the car. Hmm… I thought, when your establishment cleans up its sidewalks, I’ll let my girls sit alone in the car, but of course I didn’t say that. I explained a homeless guy slept in front of my car and I wasn’t comfortable with my girls sitting out…

  • Heart,  Home

    My Preparation Started with a Farmhouse

    Preparing Your Heart and Home: In the Beginning… I can pinpoint the exact year God put, “Get prepared!” on both my heart and my husband, Jay’s. It was 2015, around six months after my baby Bella’s birth, a few months after I lost my sister Tricia to breast cancer, and when I was scouring through floor plans for the farmhouse we intended to build. I dreamt of this quaint little cottage tucked into the woods. For years I stared lustfully at the pages of Southern Living Magazine at all those single stories, with pitched roofs, and little flower boxes. Determined to squeeze four children into it, I wanted: easy to…

  • Heart

    Killing Racism

    “We must always take sides. Neutrality helps the oppressor, never the victim. Silence encourages the tormentor, never the tormented. The opposite of love is not hate, it’s indifference.” Ellie Wiesel I was raised to be a racist, not the type that wore a hood and burned crosses in front yards, but a quiet one. Racism slithered across the floors of our Christian home hissing “sshhh.” It taught me to be afraid of black people, when Momma gripped my hand on the sidewalk as we passed by people of color. It taught me black people committed most of the crime in our town, when I heard comments like “Do they know…

  • Heart

    A Slowed Down Life:

    Preparing the Heart: Recently I’ve returned to my Orlando home. What we thought was a few days for spring break morphed into a two-month quarantine at our farmhouse. On the drive back to civilization and restaurant row, I realized I’d not driven anything but an ATV since March. I felt like a giddy sixteen-year old behind the wheel of my SUV. Furthermore, I’d not left the farm property in almost two months. I wanted to get home and bury myself in my office and studio. I also felt the overwhelming desire to grocery shop—but hey, I’d take any retail therapy I could get at this point.              But I’m a wishy-washy…

  • Heart

    What’s in a Name?

    I’ll confess I never truly liked the name Tammy. I blame my name for all the pats I received on the head from male employers and for the punches in the arm instead of dates I received from guys I thought were cute in college. It’s my name’s fault for why I’ve worked so hard to prove myself because if I didn’t, I feared I wouldn’t get past the little white yapper image in people’s minds when they thought of me. I read a book once about the psychology behind a name. The author stated our names shaped a portion of our personalities because it dictates how people perceive us…

  • Heart,  Writing

    The Sound of Silence

    The Chesapeake Bay fueled my terror of lightning. One afternoon, a dark shadow hung over my Daddy’s boat before a bright flash bounced off a crab pot, and a sharp pain sliced through my arm as it hung over the side of the boat. For years after, Momma closed all the doors to the bedrooms and sat with me in the hallway during lightning storms. We leaned against her record/stereo player that we had to turn sideways to scoot around. Simon and Garfunkel, Motown greats, James Taylor, John Denver—whichever she was in the mood for that afternoon—drowned out the thunder. Today, I heard again a remake of Simon and Garfunkel’s…

  • Heart,  Writing

    Mourning the Loss of Expectations

    Feeling sad today. Missing travel. Missing Main Street, USA at Magic Kingdom. Fearing that awful, monstrous…The Unknown. I don’t shove these feelings down. I don’t scold myself for not trusting God enough for not having enough faith. Please. The Bible is pretty much ALL people who aren’t enough but for whom God decides to Be everything. He’s always filled in the gaps, where we aren’t enough. No, what I’m doing is recognizing that my expectation for life does not match reality. The journey of letting go of expectation and accepting reality is called grief. It’s a crucial part of our mental health. Grief is tricky. It messes you up to…

  • Heart,  Writing

    Finding Peace in the Pandemic

    Preparing the Heart: My boys are restless. I feel their bottled energy as they slug around the house with that wild look in their eyes as if they hear war drums in the distance but are forced in their barracks unable to join comrades in battle. My hunter runs off to hunt the woods daily. My fisherman runs off to catch those bass in the pond. My youngest son runs between the two. They’re biding their time in quarantine as best they can. Meanwhile, beyond the farm fences, out there in the real-world, there’s a dangerous invader whose sticky barbs have infected every aspect of our lives. The enemy loves…

  • Heart,  Writing

    No Longer Doubting

    Preparing the Heart: “There’s no shadow You won’t light up Mountain You won’t climb up Coming after me There’s no wall You won’t kick down Lie You won’t tear down Coming after me.” Reckless Love by Cory Asbury When our family moved from Kentucky to Tennessee in 2005, Jennifer Yeager was the first person who went out of her way to befriend me. We met at the pool in the temporary housing the church provided for us. She be-bopped up to my family and I. “Well, hello Hammonds…” she said in her Georgia accent. “I’m Jennifer Yeager and this is my husband Robert; we go to Grace and saw that…