I was that child, you know the one. The one that would take a cardboard box and turn it into wings and jump off the top of the house to see if they could fly. The child that the school had to call their parents every day. The child that would just disappear early in the morning and not come back home until after dark. That was me.

I raised my mother’s blood pressure more than just a few times. I’m sure she wanted to strangle me, in fact I heard her say it several times. I think I am only alive because murdering your child breaks one of the Ten Commandments. I think the Lord put that commandment in there just to protect a few of us that he knew would test our parents patience.

There were five of us kids and I was the “Emergency Room” child. The one, that for no fault of my own…Ok, it was my fault sometimes, ended up in the emergency room on a regular basis. I still do for some reason. However, the Lord has blessed me because I have never had a broken bone. ( I literally just knocked on wood after writing that.)

Ok, wait, I did fracture a vertebrae in my back, but I was an adult…and it was no fault of my own. Well, sorta.

But I am almost certain that if my mother hadn’t been a christian, I would have been the one she sacrificed because she had four more. And I quickly learned that reminding her that ‘patience is a virtue’ when she was mad at me…..was also just as bad of an idea as jumping off the house with cardboard wings. ( I still think that will work somehow)

Her prayers for me never stopped even when I was an adult, they only intensified. I believe that her prayers over me was the safety net that caught me after life had pushed me off of a cliff. From job loss, divorce and many other things, I truly believe it was her prayers and sacrifice that put a hedge of protection around me.

As a child, she was my light in the darkness and now as an adult I see where her light came from, her faith. I know it’s the sacrifice of Jesus Christ that provides salvation, but in my mind, it’s the sacrifice of mothers that leads their children to the Savior.

I know the world says that mothers raise children but in my case she went further and petitioned Heaven on my behalf. I still have those moments in life where it feels like I am standing on the edge of the roof with nothing but cardboard wings, but now when I look down, I no longer see all the mistakes I made, I see grace.

I’m still thankful for those Ten Commandments that kept me alive as a boy, but now I am grateful for the faith that I learned through my mother that keeps me whole as a man. My mother is gone now, but I am truly thankful for when she stood on the Word when I was too busy trying to fly.

My life is a legacy of grace that started in the Appalachian Mountains, by a woman who knew her wildest child needed more than just a good talking too, he needed a Savior. And because she never stopped praying and leading me there, I finally found the one thing that actually lets me fly. Be sure to thank the one who has led you.

( Wait, wings are too small, what about a hang-glider made out of cardboard?)

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This turned, “UGH” into “WOW.” As is common in my life, I over bought at the store while grocery shopping. While walking the different isles many different options kept popping into my head and me not taking into account the time required for each meal….or my energy level after a long day at work.

Four days later I’m staring at two large containers, one of pre-cut onions and another one of onions and peppers that I had planned on fixing fajitas with. It was use them or lose them day. I was out of time for the veggies and for dinner after working late. I typed in Gemini, HELP. I gave it my list and asked what I could do. The first recipe out of the gate saved everything. Sheet Pan Fajitas.

I had never fixed them this way, but it would save the veggies and dinner so I gave it a shot. And just WOW. I loved them. Everything came out…well, better than how I normally fix them.

A “use it or lose it” recipe for when the pantry is full but the clock is ticking.

• Prep time: 10 minutes

• Cook time: 20 minutes

• Total time: 30 minutes

• Serves: 4 people

• Heat Setting: 400°F (Oven)

Ingredients

• 1 lb Chicken Breast or Steak ( I used both ), sliced into thin, ½-inch strips (Fajita style)

• 1 container (approx. 8 oz) Pre-cut Onions ( I like mine with heavy onions)

• 1 container (approx. 8 oz) Onion & Bell Pepper mix

• 3 tbsp Vegetable Oil (or melted lard for a more traditional flavor)

• 2 tbsp Taco Seasoning or Fajita Seasoning (Think packs here, I used one of each)

• Optional: Flour tortillas, shredded cheese, or a scoop of sour cream for serving.

Directions

1. Preheat: Heat your oven to 400°F.

2. The Mix: In a large bowl, toss the chicken and steak strips, raw onions, and the onion/pepper mix with the oil and seasoning until everything is evenly coated.

3. The Spread: Spread the mixture in a single, even layer. If the pan is crowded, split the ingredients between two pans. You want the air to circulate so the veggies get those flavorful brown “char” spots.

4. The Roast: Slide the pan into the center rack of the oven. Bake for 20 to 25 minutes depending on your oven.

5. The Finish: Remove the pan and check that the chicken has reached an internal temperature of 165°F and the onions are soft and translucent with caramelized edges.

Serve: Let it sit for 2 minutes. Serve straight from the pan with warm tortillas.

In the end, what started as a grocery store 'over-buy' turned into one of the best meals we've had all month. It just goes to show that you don't need a fancy plan or hours in the kitchen to put something great on the table, sometimes you just need a single sheet pan and a little bit of flexibility. Next time you're staring at the fridge wondering where the time went, give this a shot. Your future, tired self will thank you.

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I came across this recipe out of sheer, ‘I just don’t want to go to the store.’ I didn’t create this recipe, however, I did tweak it to my own liking and I encourage you to do the same. I had a mis-match of items in the pantry, some lasagna noodles, a jar of pasta sauce, some baked beans etc… I went to google and put all of those ingredients in the search bar and lo and behold, out came a recipe for Cowboy Baked Bean lasagna.

I suspect whoever created this didn’t feel like going to town either. This is a flavor filled dish that feels like it came straight out of the Appalachian Mountains, although it was probably someone from Texas who created it. It’s a toss-up who likes it more between my wife or Pastor Tim but it’s a crowd pleaser for sure. Let’s get started. (Sorry, no life back-story today. )

First make the baked beans if you like or use canned. Either way is fine.

1lb ground beef

1/2 lb sausage. I use breakfast sausage because of the flavor, but most use Italian sausage. Cook about 3/4 of the way done.

Drain, but not down the sink unless you want to invite your local plumber over to unclog the sink.

Put back in skillet

Add 1 TBS of Chili Powder (optional)

Add one chopped onion- The size depends on you on, the original recipe called for a medium sized onion.

Add 1 large can baked beans

1/2 can Rotel ( You can also use Pico, I love the added cilantro flavor of it in this dish)

1 jar pasta sauce

Simmer 15 mins.

Next prepare the cheese

2 packs of Philadelphia Cream Cheese, make sure it is room temp. I also tweaked this, just because I could. Original recipe calls for 1 pack. I like it with 2 much better.

Half can of queso cheese- This is my addition, add this. (Chefs kiss)

The other 1/2 can of Rotel or pico, whichever you chose.

Mix well.

In a 13x9 casserole dish ( or try it in a large cast-iron skillet, and NO, pasta sauce does not hurt cast-iron….just WASH IT!! Hear an evil laugh.) put a small amount of sauce on the bottom.

Layer lasagna noodles, 3 should be plenty.

Put a small layer of sauce

Add cheese sauce

Sprinkle on a mixed cheese. I like the Mexican 4 cheese for this.

Repeat for the second and third layer.

If you run out of the philly cream cheese, don’t worry, 2 layers of that is plenty. Just add extra Mexican or Mozzarella cheese on top.

Once all layers are complete add jalapeños to top. ( Leave an area without jalapeños for the kiddos.)

Cover with foil.

Bake at 375 for 35 minutes.

Remove foil

Bake another 10 minutes

Remove from the oven and let sit for 20-30 minutes before serving.

Serve with garlic bread and salad. Its also great topping it with sour-cream once you have it on your plate.

So next time you’re staring at a mismatched pantry, remember: you’re just one search away from your next favorite meal. Happy trails and even happier eating.

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Lots of things in the Appalachian Mountains get described as “thick.” The early morning fog, often so dense in a deep holler it seems to swallow the light, is thick. A grandmother’s accent, rich with the history and cadence of the hills, is thick. A pot of soup-beans, slow-simmering on the stove all day until the broth is hearty and clinging to the spoon, is undeniably thick. But one essential and pervasive mountain reality that most folks don’t mention or perhaps don’t even have a name for, is a “Thick Love.”

If you’ve ever walked through that dense, heavy holler fog, imagine that experience as the closest analogy for the type of love I grew up with in the small, brick church nestled on a hill in a sharp curve, Lick Fork Freewill Baptist Church. It didn’t just loosely surround you, like a pleasant, light mist you can step out of. No, this love was a physical presence. It got on you, clinging to your clothes and dampening your skin. It soaked you, sinking past the surface and into your very bones, saturating your perspective. It was a protective, inescapable quilt, and because of its density, you could only see the world, and indeed what was right around you, through its filter.

This Thick Love manifested not just in the monthly potluck dinners, piled high with fried chicken, potato salad and deviled eggs (My favorite) but in the unspoken, unwritten covenants of the community. It was the call that went out when a neighbor’s barn burned, resulting in a flurry of pickup trucks and rough-hewn hands showing up the next morning to start rebuilding, no questions asked. It was the sight of Aunt Dosha, with her perpetually worn apron and a face lined by both hardship and profound kindness, showing up at your door with a pot of chicken-noodle soup when you were sick. It was the fierce, sometimes judgmental, scrutiny the community held you under, because they loved you so much they wouldn’t let you fail without a fight.

This was a love that came with obligations, responsibilities, and a profound, sometimes claustrophobic, sense of belonging. It was the accountability of knowing every single person in the congregation and they knew everything about you. It wasn’t always gentle, and it was often expressed through tough admonishment before it was wrapped in a hug. But like that all-day simmering pot of beans, its flavor was deep, nourishing, and ultimately, what kept you going when the mountain roads of life got too steep.

The Living Sermon

This is where the true Gospel was found, not in the cadence and fire of the preacher’s voice, but in what the old-timers called “the living sermon.” The sermon wasn’t delivered from the polished oak pulpit; it was built into the very fabric of the people’s lives. The real theology of the community was written in the sweat on a man’s brow as he shingled a roof for free, in the smell of casserole baking in the kitchen for a grieving family, and in the sheer presence of people who chose to show up when life went sideways.

The people of the church understood that the word of God became real when it got its hands dirty. The neighbor whose barn burned down had been caught drinking one too many times and had a reputation for cutting corners, yet there were the men of the church, hammer in hand, refusing to let his failure define his future. That refusal to give up on a soul, that was the living sermon of grace. Aunt Dosha’s Chicken-Noodle soup wasn’t just a physical comfort; it was a visible sacrament, a reminder that your physical struggle and pain were as sacred as any prayer request. These actions were the true gospel of accountability and deep, shared life, preached not by a man in a tie, but by a people in overalls and aprons.

This love knew the struggle of a life lived close to the bone. It knew the sting of a coal mine closing, and the gnawing anxiety of a long winter. The Thick Love was the community’s response to the harsh realities of mountain life, a human safety net woven from casseroles, manual labor, and uncompromising prayer. It embraced the whole person: the Sunday saint and the Monday sinner. When the church members held each other under such intense, sometimes suffocating, scrutiny, it was because they knew what was at stake. They were guarding each other’s souls and livelihoods in a world that offered few second chances.

A Hunger for Thickness

For today’s reader, so accustomed to the thinness of digital connection and the anonymity of modern life, the concept of a “Thick Love” can feel revolutionary. We are experts at curating our image, opting for transactional relationships, and retreating into spaces of comfort. We crave community, but only the kind that is easy, convenient, and comes with no obligations. We prefer a light mist that we can step out of when the scrutiny becomes too much.

Yet, there is a profound, almost primal hunger in the modern soul for something with density. We are starved for a love that is inescapable, one that demands our presence and refuses to let us fail. We long for a community that doesn’t just send a sympathetic emoji, but shows up with a pickup truck and a hammer. The Appalachian Thick Love, with all its flaws and fierce accountability, offers a model: a challenge to put down the phones, step out of the curated corners of our lives, and commit to the hard, messy, real work of a shared, physically present life. It reminds us that the most powerful sermons are never heard; they are lived, together, in the thick, sometimes beautiful, fog of a truly connected life.

Let’s be honest: Meal planning for the week is an absolute energy drain. I’d spend hours trying to figure out what the family wanted while fighting off a barrage of ads and pop-ups on recipe sites. It was more work than the actual cooking.

Now? I use AI. ( Stick around, this will save you an enormous amount of time.) No more clicking through “life stories” ( Disclaimer: I use life stories in my recipe articles too) to find a recipe, no more “prompt engineering” gymnastics, just a simple conversation that eliminates the stress.

The Why Behind this Guide

We’ve all been there: standing in the kitchen on Saturday paralyzed by decision fatigue. Then the dreaded walk through the house asking each member of the family what they might like for dinner this week. Just, UGH, because the answer is always the same, ‘Just whatever you decide.’

I wanted to share this with you because meal planning shouldn’t feel like a second job. I want to show you how to reclaim your sanity by offloading the mental heavy lifting to AI. The goal is simple: total relief. By using what you already have, your phone, computer etc.. you can go from “what’s for dinner?” dread to a complete plan for the week in under five minutes. Lets get started.

My Process

I follow a simple, two-step method to get the best results: (There should be an AI app on your phone already, if not, go to the Google Play Store or Apple Store and download one. I actually use 3 for work related tasks. But, Grok, ChatGPT and Gemini are all great to use for this)

1. Inventory Check: I start with exactly what I have on hand.

2. Specific Constraints: I tell the AI how many people I’m feeding and what kind of meals I need (e.g., quick, budget-friendly).

Pro Tip: The more you use a specific AI, the better it gets at learning your family’s likes and dislikes, no peas for me!

The “Copy & Paste” Template

To get started, try using this format in your AI prompt:

• Ingredients I have: [Insert ingredients, e.g., 3 lbs chicken, 2 lbs ground beef]

• Meal Count: [Number of meals needed]

• Household Size: [Number of people]

• Meal Style: [e.g., Budget-friendly, under 30 minutes, kid-approved]

Sample Prompt & Results

The Prompt

“I have 3 lbs of chicken breast, 2 lbs of ground beef, and 4 ribeyes. I need 5 dinner ideas for 3 people. Give me budget-friendly and quick meals to fix for after school and work.”

The AI Output (Example)

• Monday: Quick Chicken Stir-fry with frozen veggies.

• Tuesday: Ground Beef Tacos (15-minute prep).

• Wednesday: Pan-Seared Ribeyes with a simple side salad.

• Thursday: Sheet-pan Lemon Herb Chicken and potatoes.

• Friday: Beef and Bean Chili (great for leftovers!).

The Next Step: Grocery Lists

Once you like the plan, simply ask the AI: “Can you create a categorized shopping list for these meals based on what I’m missing for ( add store name)?” It will organize everything by aisle, saving you even more time at the store.

The Bottom Line:

Life can be hard enough, meal planning doesn’t have to be. By offloading the mental heavy lifting to AI, you reclaim your Saturdays and your headspace for more enjoyable plans. Start with one meal, see the magic of an organized shopping list, and never look back at a “what’s for dinner?” panic again. Until next time, happy cooking and even happier planning.

The Scent of the Holler:

For the inaugural post in Appalachian Recipes, I took a lot of time to think on the first one. First I thought about using my Mama Clara’s Peach Cobbler recipe, then I remembered Blackberry Cobbler and all of the fun around picking fresh blackberries from the mountains to make that wonderful goodness. But I landed on Soup beans or as some call them Pinto beans.

Walking into the house after a day at school and smelling soup beans simmering on the stove, just made everything seem right in the holler. They are not a fancy meal and as most of the world only uses Pinto beans as a side dish, we use them as the main meal with sides of fried potatoes and corn bread fixed in an old cast-iron skillet.

It’s a humble meal that has sustained mountain people for generations, a meal that we look forward to having. It’s one of the cheapest meals you can feed your family, a pound of pinto beans is around a dollar, the potatoes are three dollars and the corn bread we usually already have everything for. So for less than five dollars, you can feed an entire family very well.

The Refiners Fire:

In preparation, some folks soak their beans overnight in salt water, some don’t. It’s the long cooking I think that makes them special, 6-8 hours on the stove with traditionally using fat-back or a ham hock for flavoring. It’s the wonderful smell of those beans simmering and the anticipation of the meal to come.

I don’t think there is any better fitting meal than this for the Appalachian people and Christians alike in the waiting and refining process. It takes time, pressure and patience to bring out the flavor of the beans, just as it does in our spiritual life to refine us into a savory flavor for the Lord through faith.

Zechariah 13:9:

“And I will bring the third part through the fire, and will refine them as silver is refined, and will try them as gold is tried: they shall call on my name, and I will hear them: I will say, It is my people: and they shall say, The LORD is my God.” (KJV)

Traditional VS Modern Methods ( See Recipe Card Below)

The ingredients are simple, and don’t change….unless you don’t eat pork.

Pinto beans- 1 lb

Salt 1 TBS

Pepper 1 TBS

Ham hock or fat back- a nice chunk ( Thats a measurement in the mountains)

Water or a mixture of water and chicken or beef broth, this adds a deeper flavor.

Traditionally, it’s an overnight soak in salt water, put on the stove in the morning and let simmer for 6-8 hours. That’s a no fuss, leave it alone style that will create an atmosphere of love.

The Modern Pillar-

While the open flame of a wood stove is a memory of the past, the modern Crock Pot (or slow cooker) is the perfect tool for the modern grind. It allows that same “low and slow” magic to happen while you’re out tending to the day’s work.

In my house, we’ve found that the secret to the best pot of beans isn’t just the tool, but the seasoning. While many use fat-back, I now use a nice chunk of Country Ham for the flavor. That salt-cured depth is the gold standard of mountain cooking; it gives up its soul to the beans over those 6–8 hours, creating a liquid gold that is purely divine.

The Method:

• No Soak Required: When using the slow cooker, you can skip the overnight soak.

• The Workflow: Put your pound of pintos, your country ham, and your water (or broth) in the pot in the morning.

• The Timing: Set it on High for about 6 hours. You’ll come home to a house that smells exactly like your Mama’s kitchen, with beans that are perfectly soft and a broth that’s rich and salty.

Instant Pot-

I think this method was invented by the Lord himself because he knew how chaotic life could be. Lets say, you meant to fix soup beans for dinner but everything fell apart that morning. The kids couldn’t find their shoes, like every morning, then the bus was early, coats were left behind along with their back packs that had all of their half finished homework in them and now you have to be a good parent and take all of that to the school before going into work….late, I might add.

Let’s dial down the stress, we have an instant pot. The ingredients are the same and so are the measurements. Nothing changes. Put them in the instant pot (follow your pots instructions) and in about an hour, you have soup beans.

I would add extra seasonings in this method as they don’t have that long cook time for the beans to absorb the flavor of the seasoning meat, but they are still soft and wonderful.

The Legacy-

I look back at the memories of Powers Branch, the smell of the beans simmering, the softness of the corn-bread, and the warmth of a family gathered together, and I realize that meal was one of my first lessons in faith. It taught me that God provides, even in humble things.

We often view the ‘grind’ of daily life as something to simply endure, but perhaps it’s actually the very thing that refines us. Just as those beans transform under the slow heat and the salt of the country ham, we are being tried and shaped into something better. This meal is a reminder that the best things in life, our faith, our families, and our heritage, cannot be rushed. They are worth the wait. They are worth the fire.

As we navigate our own ‘modern grinds,’ let’s not lose the flavor of our heritage. Let’s keep the fire lit, the pot simmering, and our hearts open to the refining work of the Lord.

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I think mothers are angels in physical form. At least, mine was. Her work ethic, love and sense of humor made her a treasure you wanted to be around. One of her quirks was that late at night, after the work day was over, dinner was done, and the dishes were washed and put away, she would sit down at the corner of the sofa and get out one of the many novels she loved.

She would tuck her legs up, rest the book on her knees, and hold it with her right hand. Once she was lost in the story, her left hand would go to the back of her head and start twisting her hair. Round and round she twisted it the entire time she was reading. By the time she was ready for bed, a curl had formed in just that one area of her black hair.

Reading was a simple pleasure for her after a long day of caring for her family, like her mother before her. Appalachian women had simple pleasures because life wasn’t simple. They had grit because life was, and still is, hard in the mountains, requiring strong people to survive in rocky ground.

Without fail, Mom was the first one up every morning. She would rise early to brew coffee and sit in silence before the day began. As she sipped on her coffee, she would lay out our clothes and, in the winter, warm them up on the old wood stove.

Then she would fix a simple breakfast for us on school days, most likely toast and cereal, but in the winter, if school was out, it would be a lavish breakfast of biscuits and gravy, bacon, eggs, and apple butter. Most of the time, the salty smell of the bacon would wake me before I had to get up. I would walk into the kitchen still half asleep, and Mom would slip me a piece of the bacon as I sat down at the table.

Her day was far from over. After breakfast was done, it was time to clean the kitchen. Next, wash and dry clothes and clean up the mess we kids had made. Somehow, she would find time to go visit her mother who lived just down the hill from us. Then it was back to the house and time for more work: homework for the kids, sporting events, dinner and bed-time.

From spring through the fall, there was always the garden that needed as much attention as us kids. Spring planting, summer weeding, and fall gathering, which included canning. Mom never stopped. Later in life, she would get a “job” outside of the house but still had the same amount of work at home, just eight hours less to get it done. She was like most mountain women, tough and full of “Grit,” as we say.

In all of this hardship, it never turned my mother sour. She was always laughing, smiling, and loving on other people especially on Wednesday night and Sundays. How she found time for church is beyond me, but after her and dad got saved, it was just as important to be in church as it was for any other chore that had to be done for survival.

Mom never wanted to be a pastor’s wife, but she is the best one God ever created. She channeled the same tireless work ethic she showed at home into serving the people at church. She would pray for others in the church, crying over their hardships, even as she was cooking. She would sneak food into their cars in the church parking lot so they didn’t know who it came from.

And she was a hugger. She would hug everyone at church, and I would see how they would light up with joy after her hugs. She was full of “grace” and love and she gave it in abundance to those she knew. I saw her weep with people who had lost a loved one, she rejoiced with them at the news of a baby being born, and in all of that, not one ounce of regret or anger showed through all the hardship of living in the mountains.

In all of the various hardships we face, love requires both ‘Grit and Grace’, not just for our own families, but to those that we interact with on a regular basis.

Although I used my mother as an example, this is a testament that the mountain women’s lives are a living sermon, proving that the toughest ground can bear the sweetest fruit. Their example calls us today to be as tough as the rocky ground and as tender as a rose petal. In every trial, may we find our own measure of Grit and Grace, and carry their light forward.

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In the deepest mines, the Pillars are what keep the roof from caving in. They are the silent, steady strength that allows the work to happen safely. Without them, the whole operation grinds to a halt.

Modern life for “the rest of us” isn’t much different. Between a demanding job, a growing family, and the constant noise of the digital world, we all need something solid to hold things up. We need systems that provide stability so we can focus on the work that actually matters.

The Goal: Strength Through Simplicity

I created The Pillars to share the tools and structures that actually work for “Norms” (Normal Folks). I’m not a tech-guru or a coding wizard. I’m a guy in Frankfort, Kentucky, sitting at a Mac Mini, trying to build a foundation that won’t crack under the pressure of a busy 24 hours.

Inside The Pillars, we’re going to focus on three main supports:

• AI for Norms: Practical, real-world ways to use tools like Gemini to stop the “zig-zag” chores and start reclaiming your mental space.

• The Digital Toolkit: Mastering the essentials, like Google Sheets, to track your growth without needing a computer science degree.

• The Daily Briefing: Building a routine to stay informed and steady without getting buried by the 24-hour news cycle.

Why it Matters

Stability isn’t about being “fancy” it’s about stewardship. If we can build better pillars in our daily routines, we create the space and safety to focus on our faith, our families, and our stories.

I’ll be here every week sharing the structural tweaks I’m making to my own life. I’d love to hear what “pillars” you’re building to keep your world standing strong, too.

Until then, keep your foundation solid and your tools sharp. Let’s build something that lasts.

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If you’ve spent any time in the hollers or on the ridges of Appalachia, you know that our history isn’t just found in old family Bibles or genealogy charts. It’s written in the dry-stone walls that still stand on abandoned hillsides, tucked away in the “Haint Blue” paint on a porch ceiling, and echoed in a dialect that hasn’t changed in a hundred years.

The Deep Seam is a new section of our newsletter dedicated to the heritage, the mysticism, and—most importantly—the unshakable strength of the Appalachian people.

Beyond the Family Tree

While I love a good family story, The Deep Seam isn’t just about who we are related to; it’s about the spirit we all inherited. In this section, we are going to dive into the stories that define the “Grit and Grace” of this region:

• The Invisible Architects: Honoring the craftsmanship of the people who built civilizations out of “vertical” land.

• The Granny Women: Exploring the resourcefulness of the matriarchs who healed communities with what grew in the soil.

• The Language of the Hills: Discovering the resilience found in our unique mountain speech.

• Signs & Superstitions: From planting by the moon to the “haint” lore that keeps our traditions alive.

Why “The Deep Seam”?

In a coal mine, the deep seam is where the most valuable, untouched resources are found. It requires a bit more effort to get to, but the reward is worth the work. That’s what I want to do here: dig a little deeper than the stereotypes you see on the news and find the real, enduring heart of our home.

I’m glad you’re here to walk these ridges with me. Grab a seat on the porch, and let’s see what we can find.

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Without God’s Word, we would be blind to the darkness in this world, it would just be “normal life.” We wouldn’t know the difference. This is the very mission Jesus gave Paul in Acts 26:18 (KJV):

“To open their eyes, and to turn them from darkness to light, and from the power of Satan unto God, that they may receive forgiveness of sins, and inheritance among them which are sanctified by faith that is in me.”

Jesus also says in Matthew 5:14–16:

14 Ye are the light of the world. A city that is set on an hill cannot be hid. 15 Neither do men light a candle, and put it under a bushel, but on a candlestick; and it giveth light unto all that are in the house. 16 Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father which is in heaven.

It’s a beautiful theme that runs from the very beginning (Genesis 1:3: “And God said, Let there be light”) all the way to the end (Revelation 22:5), where it says there will be no need for a lamp because “the Lord God giveth them light.” A miner doesn’t just carry a light to see where he is; he carries it to see where he’s going and to avoid the pitfalls in his path. In these pages, we treat the Word of God as our lamp—not just for comfort, but for safe passage. As you read Lamplight, my prayer is that your eyes are opened, your path is made clear, and your light shines steady for all to see.

Keep your lamps lit.

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I’ve spent most of my life defined by “the work”, things you can touch, weigh, and see. Whether I was in the cab of a truck, on a warehouse floor, or supervising a team here in Kentucky, my world was built on grit and tangible results.

But as I look at the world today, I realize that a life well-lived isn’t just about how hard you work; it’s about how you piece everything together.

I think of it like a Digital Quilt.

On one side, we have our heritage, the “Deep Seam” of stories, faith, and old-school wisdom passed down through generations. On the other side, we have the modern world, a place full of new tools and “Working Faces” that can either overwhelm us or help us get home to our families ten minutes faster.

Why “The Coal Seam”?

In the mountains, a seam is where the treasure is hidden under the weight of the world. You have to dig for it. This newsletter is my space for that digging. It’s for the “meat and potatoes” folks who care about faith, family, and tradition, but aren’t afraid to use a new tool if it actually works.

What We’re Stitching Together

I’m not a tech guru or a theologian. I’m just a guy in Frankfort trying to make sense of it all. Once or twice a week, I’ll be sharing “patches” for our quilt:

• The Deep Seam: Honoring where we came from. Expect stories of Appalachian grit, family heritage, and maybe a few recipes that have survived the test of time.

• The Lamp-Light: Staying grounded. This is the heart of the letter; reflections on faith, devotions, and finding grace in a world that feels increasingly loud and digital.

• The Working Face: Using the tools of today. Yes, we’ll talk about things like AI, but only in a way that matters to “Norms.” If a tool can turn a 40-minute grocery run into a 10-minute breeze, I want to show you how to use it so you can spend that extra half-hour on the porch or with your kids.

Pull Up a Chair

I’m calling this The Coal Seam because the best things in life usually require a little bit of work to uncover. Whether we’re talking about a centuries old proverb or a piece of software that simplifies your life, the goal is the same: to live a life that is purposeful, grounded, and efficient.

I hope you’ll pull up a chair on the porch and join me. Let’s start digging.