How the Owner Lost Her Faith — And Found It Again

Dear Readers,

I have read your February love stories many times, and I must say I am deeply moved by the way the people in your lives have touched you.

At Country Nuts and Confections, we are a family. We come together to share our stories and our lives. That is important to us. We open our bakery to everyone, and we honor your thoughtfulness. We listen.

God put us all on this earth to be there for others.

There is one story left to tell… and that is mine. It’s a long one, so bear with me.

Many years ago, a terrible thing happened to my beautiful mother—the woman who inspired me to bake and share my gifts with the world. I won’t go into detail, but I will say this: she was never physically the same again, and it almost destroyed me.

What happened to my mother destroyed my faith in God.

Yes… you read that right.

I became angry and bitter. I lashed out at anyone who crossed my path over the smallest things. Around that time, I had just met the man I would later marry. He was kind and understanding, but he didn’t know how to help me through the pain and anger I carried. And truly… that’s no way to begin a marriage.

He asked me to move out west to be with him. I thought maybe distance would help, so I packed what I could and drove fifteen hours straight to be with the man I loved.

When I arrived, he wasn’t home. I didn’t even know exactly where he lived—only the city.

I called and called until finally he answered.

“Danny?”“Yes?”“This is Joyce… I’m here, but I don’t know where I am.”

He laughed in surprise—he hadn’t expected me until the next day. I told him I drove straight through and needed help. Thankfully, I was close. He found me, and I followed him home.

Life started there… not perfectly, but together.

We faced challenges early on—roommates who disrespected our home, chaos, even danger—but eventually we built a life and began planning our wedding.

I thought I had left my anger behind… but I hadn’t. I had only delayed it.

One day, after a long and exhausting shift, I came home to find a neighbor had parked in my driveway. After a 12-hour day, barely enough money for groceries, and walking a block uphill in heels in the heat… my grocery bag broke. Eggs shattered. Food ruined.

I snapped.

I stormed inside, furious, crying, overwhelmed. I even grabbed a hammer, ready to take out my anger on her car.

But Danny stopped me.

He gently took the hammer and said,“No, honey. You’re not going to jail for that.”

Instead, he went to talk to her.

That neighbor… the one I was so angry at…

Would later change my life.

Days later, she kept trying to meet me. I avoided her every chance I got. But one afternoon, as I was laying outside trying to relax and soak up the sun, she came over anyway.

Persistent. Kind. Unbothered by my attitude.

Her name was Margo.

She invited me over for iced tea. I didn’t want to go—but I knew she wouldn’t give up, so I did.

And that’s when everything changed.

As we sat together, she shared her story—divorce, abuse, pain.

I found myself opening up in a way I hadn’t in a long time.

I told her how I felt about God…

That I believed He didn’t care.

That He let people suffer.

That He didn’t exist.

And then I broke.

I cried harder than I had in years. All the anger, the hurt, the guilt… it poured out.

And she didn’t judge me.

She simply held me and said:

“God didn’t hurt them. People did. God gave us free will, and some choose evil. But none of that was your fault.”

Those words…

They reached something in me that had been buried for a long time.

She told me I had a purpose.That I was meant for more.That I needed to forgive—not for them, but for myself.

Then she asked,“Will you let me pray for you?”

And I said yes.

We prayed.

Hours passed.

And for the first time in months… I felt peace.

I felt like life was worth living again.

Margo became my second mother. My friend. My guide.

She walked beside me through the good and the bad until November of 1998, when she passed away. Losing her felt like losing my best friend all over again.

But her impact never left me.

She is part of why I bake.

Part of why I share.

Part of why this bakery exists.

And sometimes, you’ll see me reference her in our newsletters—because her story is part of mine.

Thank you for staying with me through this story.

It wasn’t easy to tell… but I wanted you to understand how my past shaped me. How I once lost my faith—and how one good woman, sent by the Lord, helped me find it again.

💛 We’d love to hear your story, too.Have you ever lost your faith… and found your way back?

👉 Subscribe to our mailing list to be part of our family.👉 Send us your story—we may share it (with your permission) in a future newsletter.

Because your story matters.

God bless all of you.

And remember...God loves you all.