The “Life Is Mysterious” column by Ella Price, caterer, blogger and now columnist, is published in Lifestyles every other Tuesday.

The “Life Is Mysterious” column by Ella Price is published in Lifestyles every other Tuesday.

Life Is Mysterious by Ella Price publishes every other Tuesday in Lifestyles.

The “Life Is Mysterious” column by Ella Price, caterer, blogger and now columnist, is published in Lifestyles every other Tuesday.

“Life Is Mysterious” by Ella Price, caterer, blogger and now columnist, is published in Lifestyles every other Tuesday.

My story starts with me mopping the kitchen floor, and as I mopped, I thought to myself, “I have never been more happy than I am right now.”

Last week, our small town was filled with ghosts and goblins. There were also superheroes of every shape and size walking the streets — a Batman and Robin on every corner, along with Spiderman and Wonder Woman. Witches walked side by side with Scooby-Doos as they gathered Tootsie Rolls and bubble gum.

I love to write, but today, for the very first time, I am not “writing” this column. Instead, I am dictating it on my telephone. The process of writing is almost spiritual to me, and I’m not sure I’m liking how this feels. It is odd to talk into the phone and see my words pop up on the screen. I feel somewhat removed from my writing.

I would like to introduce you to a very special person in my life. Her name is Terry, but, on occasion I affectionately call her Lucy.

Contrary to what you might be thinking, the title of this column has little to do with the last supper of the Bible and more to do with the fact that my husband, John, is getting ready to have a colonoscopy.

Not every mysterious event of our lives is a good one. Sometimes events have us scratching our head and asking why. Sometimes the answers come to us quickly, yet other times we are left with unanswered questions for years.

Every time I sit down to write, I pray that God will guide my words and allow what I say to help inspire others. Today is no different than any other day, except today I am asking for more than help in directing my fingers across the keyboard.

Each and every one of us has had experiences that have taught us some sort of life lessons. Sometimes the lessons are obvious and clear, while other times, what you are meant to learn is hidden behind the more obvious one. And some events may teach us multiple lessons.

Everyone loves babies. Their little chubby feet and their sweet smell can make even grown men resort to making baby noises and funny faces.

Even before I was born, lessons were set in motion for me to learn. Let me help set the scene. It is early Fall 1964, when my father and mother, who is pregnant with me, attend the 1964-65 World’s Fair.

I originally had another story written for my column, but, since today marks two nights in a row my husband, John, has not been able to sleep, I thought I would write about what is keeping him up at night.

I have never been a jealous person. That is, I have never wanted for anything anyone has. There has never been an outfit, a piece of art, a car or a home that I have ever longed for. Not because I have everything, but more because I am satisfied with the things that I have.

When I was in elementary school, I remember my teacher, Mrs. Sassafrac, keeping a bulletin board in her room that hung on the wall. On the board was the name of every student and the days of the week next to their name.

Perhaps you’re thinking that French is the language of love, as everything sounds beautiful when spoken in French. Even ordering food from a fast food menu at a drive-thru window can sound romantic when it is recited in French.

The view from my window is a scant different than it normally is. Tonight as I look out, I see concrete where grass usually grows, and instead of mountains, I see skyscrapers.

As I sit down to write this, I am filled with much hesitation as I am not sure how you, the reader, will take it. For that matter, I am not sure how I feel about it. While I am a believer in life’s mysteries, some of the events and things that have happened leave me scratching my head. This is a tale of one of those events.

GREENEVILLE, Tenn. — This whole past week, our little, sleepy town has been abuzz about a visit by a major motion picture celebrity. You couldn’t get on your social media account without seeing his picture or reading a comment about him.

When I originally wrote this story, I looked upon it as a small story. But as fate would have it, this little story might have far greater ramifications than I could have ever imagined. I am rerunning part of the column to refresh your memory or perhaps introduce it to you for the first time.

When I saw that my column would fall on Valentine’s Day, I wanted to write about the origins of the day. That was until I started researching it. It is a long, twisted tale involving the Roman Empire and a beheading, and to be honest, I lost my interest in learning about it. 

It is hard to believe that it has been two years since I started writing this column. Boy, time has flown by! I have shared lots of personal stories about events in my life and have loved every minute of it.

Maybe it is because the excitement of the holidays is behind us, or maybe because the weather outside is cold and dreary, but I just cannot seem to find my “get up and go.”

Excuse my “French”, as I am about to use a somewhat tacky word. It is necessary to use it so that I may share with you the best compliment I have ever received.

Winter is upon us. It is a gift of nature. The kind of gift we sometimes would like to refuse. It brings with it early darkness, chilly days, high electric bills and flu season.

There are some weeks that are difficult, and I have to go into deep prayer and meditation before I can find something to write about. Then, there are other times I have a good week, and my inner voice knows exactly what I should say in the column.

This might be the hardest story I have ever written. Not because of the title, but because it forces me to retell the story of how John and I met and came to be married. I was not sure if I would ever tell it because, of all the mysterious events of my life, this one might take the cake.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow once said that in every life a little rain must fall. I am pretty sure he was speaking metaphorically and not of actual rain, but sometimes rain, real rain that is, can spoil your plans.

Ever since we became empty nesters, it seems that my husband, John, and I do an awful lot of reminiscing about the children when they were young. Don’t get me wrong. We love the fact that our children are grown and have their own lives, but sometimes the sound of their little feet running through the kitchen is missed.

It has been a long hard week with more things on my to-do list than I care to mention. Many days I have been so frazzled that I almost felt as though I was coming apart at the seams.

The past few weeks have been absolutely beautiful. It has been warm and sunny with just enough rain to cool things down and quench the earth. I don’t know about you, but I have taken advantage of my spare time on these pretty days and planted a garden.

I try to look at the positive in people and in situations, but, like everyone else, I have things that bug me. Some of my smaller pet peeves include my dislike of the self-checkout aisles at grocery stores and my hatred of automated phone calls. 

For the last 24 years (since my mother’s passing), Mother’s Day has been a mixed bag of emotions for me. While I no longer have my mother to share the day with, I have been blessed with a wonderful family of my own to celebrate motherhood with.

I am reprinting a story I wrote exactly one year ago, not because it is a good story, although it is. Instead, I am printing it again because, just like in my story, April has once again reminded me of rebirth, rejuvenation and renewal.

I have been heavy for as long as I can remember. There has simply never been a time in my life where I was not chubby, or pleasantly plump, or just plain fat.

I have made no secret of my age. In truth, I am proud to tell everyone that I am days away from turning 51. I think of how much I have changed and grown as a person, all the things I have done and seen, and all the ways the world has changed around me.

Calvin Coolidge stated, “No person was ever honored for what he received. Honor has been the reward for what he gave.”

Let’s get right to the heart of the matter. Your heart is an organ that will beat over 100,000 times in a day, 35 million times in a year, and approximately 3 billion times over the average lifespan.

I take my coffee roasted light with lots of creamer. I hate to admit it, but I even prefer powdered creamer over the real thing.

On this chilly January day, as I sip on my morning coffee from a mug given to me by my daughter, I read the mug, which has writing on it, and it says, “I’m a writer. Everything you say or do may end up in my novel.”

During the holiday season, we all seem to be running around like chickens with our heads cut off. We rush from one store to another gathering up gifts, food and decorations we think we need to turn our home into a holiday retreat.

The older I have gotten the more meaning and truth this quote holds. I have found myself driven by purpose and a need to leave the world a better place by sharing lessons I have learned and some good thoughts. So, a little over a year ago I took a leap of faith and approached John Jones Jr. about writing a series of inspirational stories for The Greeneville Sun.

I have never been a jealous person. That is, I have never wanted for anything anyone has. There has never been an outfit, a piece of art, a car or a home that I have ever longed for. Not because I have everything, but more because I am satisfied with the things that I have.

The other day I was thinking out loud to my daughter, asking her what she thought I should write about this week. I had a few stories in mind, but nothing was clicking.

Some of life’s mysteries are quirky, cute stories that can put a smile on your face, while others are extremely powerful, inspiring stories of hope and love.

Love, as I have said before, is one of life’s greatest mysteries. Having someone in your life to love and who loves you back is a gift — a gift we often take for granted. Then, sometimes life gives you a reminder.

From sports figures and politicians to musicians and actors, we are bombarded with images and stories of the rich and famous. Let’s face it — it seems that we live in a world that is obsessed with celebrity.

I would like to start off by saying that I am typically not a materialistic person. I know very little about designer footwear, purses and clothes. I don't know the difference between a Porsche and a Pinto, nor do I care to know the difference, and my favorite forms of artwork are the things my kids made for me while they were growing up.

Not every mysterious event of our lives is a good one. Sometimes events have us scratching our head and asking why. Sometimes the answers come to us quickly, yet other times we are left with unanswered questions for years.

When you think of this time of year, it is hard to not think of flowers, green grass and beautiful weddings. For many, the image of a couple on their wedding day is that of a youthful one with the promise of wonderful things to come for a young, happy couple. This is not that story. 

Celebrating Mother's Day this past weekend had me thinking of my mother, who passed away almost 24 years ago at the very young age of 49. I think how young she was at her passing and how I just turned 50, an age she never got to see. I think of everything she missed out on.

Life is not always picture-perfect, and you don’t always come out smelling like a rose. Sometimes, no matter how hard you prepare, random things will happen that will throw your life into utter chaos.

Some of life’s mysteries are small, making you scratch your head and move on. Some are big, grand statements that will completely stop you in your tracks, making you reevaluate everything you ever thought you knew.

On Tuesday, The Greeneville Sun’s Living section will welcome to its pages a new, locally-written column, titled “Life Is Mysterious” and written by Ella Price — wife, mother of three adult children, busy caterer and former restaurateur.