It was a trip down memory lane — a 55-year trip, to be exact.
Today, Moose and I had the honor of visiting my old elementary school to read Moose’s Perfect Place to the kids. As soon as I walked through those doors, it was like stepping into a time capsule. The smell of the hallways, the sound of little feet running past, the tiny chairs and lockers — everything seemed so small, yet so full of life and memories.
We started in what was once my kindergarten room — the very place where I sat all those years ago, wide-eyed and nervous, with Mrs. Benton gently teaching us the basics of life: kindness, sharing, and courage. Then we moved to my old fourth-grade classroom. I could still picture the multiplication table rockets on the wall and remember how determined I was to “make it to the 12s” with Mrs. B. cheering me on every step of the way.
When we visited the front office and I saw the principal’s room — in the exact same spot as before — another memory came rushing back. I remembered the day I sat at my desk, tears spilling down my cheeks because I just couldn’t understand multiplication. My principal happened to walk by, saw me crying, and instead of just offering a quick word of encouragement, he gently took me to his office — the principal’s office! — and sat down with me. Using toothpicks, he patiently taught me how to multiply until I finally understood it all. The principal himself! That kind of kindness leaves a mark on a child’s heart forever.
As I passed the library, I could almost hear Mrs. Howell’s voice echoing down the hall: “Be somebody!” Those words stuck with me all my life. 
Back then, I had no idea how much I’d carry them with me — into my ministry, my writing, my calling.
I told Skipper on the way home that I could remember exactly who sat in front of me in every class, what was on the walls, and the feeling of being that shy little girl who loved to learn but hated getting up in front of people. (And yet here I am, decades later, speaking in front of hundreds… God sure has a sense of humor!) I can recall every detail from 1969, but I can’t remember what I had for dinner last night.
As we drove away, I couldn’t help but tear up. Fifty-five years ago, in that very same room, I was a little girl too nervous to stand up and mark my birthday on the classroom calendar. Today, I sat in that same spot, reading a story I wrote to a room full of children who were my age then — and Moose sat beside me, the furry picture of comfort and joy.
What a beautiful reminder that life often comes full circle in the most unexpected, grace-filled ways.
Back then, I had no idea what my story would be. I didn’t know that pain, loss, and even brokenness would someday become the very things God would use to write purpose into my life. And I certainly didn’t know that I’d be back in that same room, holding a book about a dog who found his perfect place — and realizing that, in many ways, I’ve found mine too.
As we left, I looked back one more time at those halls that shaped me. My heart whispered a quiet thank you — to the teachers who believed in me, the friends who sat beside me, and the principal who taught me math with toothpicks and patience.
Because sometimes, the sweetest chapters are written right where it all began. 💖
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