At Considerable Cost

I am uploading so many pictures, but the first purpose of this blog is to serve as a record for our family, so here goes another set! We decided to use Gatlinburg, Tennessee as our home base.   Our hotel was located around the corner from the main strip, so we were in a quiet area, but able to walk downtown in just a few minutes.   We arrived just before midnight from Vicksburg, so we had our first real look at Gatlinburg and the beautiful Smoky Mountains the next morning.   We walked downtown to take in the sights and eat breakfast.   Gatlinburg is a total tourist town with a mix of quaint gift shops and souvenir ones, spread out between several Ripley's attractions and all the varieties of mini golf a person could want.   It has a quality of being wonderfully tacky and uniquely American, and I really mean that in a good way.   I'm a person who has a desire for my children to see both Washington, D.C. and Elvis's Graceland....

I'm a Southerner, but not a Southern Belle.   I was never presented to society at a white-gloves-and-ball-gowns-cotillion.   I was never the princess or queen of a small-town festival.   I only drink unsweetened tea, whether hot or iced.   My parents wanted to see if they could raise me on only unsweetened tea, so I wouldn't like the taste of the sugared variety and it worked.   Mama always made two pitchers of iced tea.   And, though I can appreciate the cast and technical achievements of Gone With the Wind , I'm telling you, if I had any state secrets, I might give them up if forced to watch that film on an auto-loop.   Ashley sure wasn't worth all those ripples of misery and by the end, the only three people I could respect were Big Sam, Mammy and Belle Watling. But whenever I am once again close to the waters of the Mississippi River, my pulse seems to adjust itself to the undulations of the ...

"Let me get my purse," she would say, as she turned around, untied her apron, and headed back inside.   My parents would wait for Mama's Grandma Taylor until she came out with her purse and closed the door beside her.   Mama always said that after they'd driven a few miles, only then would her grandmother ask, "Where are we going?" This was the story Mama liked to tell me about picking up her grandmother for Sunday drives.   Mama would emphasize to me when I was little that my great-grandmother did not care where she was going, she was just always ready to go.   To get out of the house.   To go on a little adventure.   I knew my mama daydreamed about traveling across the country on a motorcycle or in an RV as part of a retirement life.   She would imagine all the places she would see and the people she would meet along the way.  She was always open to adventure when a friend called or stopped by with an idea o...

I'm sure that my family was no different in that we had stories that were told and re-told over the years.   These were usually humorous anecdotes and I suppose those which involved children made up the majority of the tales.   Mama like to tell a story about me and a purse.   It was not uncommon for our family to visit cattle farms and ranches on Saturdays.   One of our common destinations was the ranch of a family friend, Mr. Berchman.   He was a Cajun character.   His life seemed to be a series of exciting stories and it was always interesting to visit his home.   When I was about four, we went for a visit and I accidentally left behind a little coin purse.   We visited again about a month later and I found that Mr. Berchman had not only kept the purse for safe-keeping, but he had filled it with pennies. A few months later, we visited Mr. Berchman again.   Mama would always laugh as she described...

"Is she in there?" "I think so.  Should we knock?" This was part of the conversation from my fellow teachers outside my classroom door the morning I returned to work, two months after the birth of my first child.    My locked classroom door.   I managed to get into the building with no contact with others, cover my window on my door, and lock myself in for a good cry.    I did not take separation from my baby very well.   I called my husband and told him I just couldn't stay.   He called the personnel office and asked about my leave options.   Then, he called Mama.    "I know it's hard, Joey, but you have to let her face this; she just has to do it." Later, when I talked to Mama, she told me how she felt when she took me to my first day of school.   She said leaving me at that poor, old south Louisiana school building was one of the hardest things she ever did. ...

It's been a while since I've written a post of any real length.   My reason can be summed up in one word: MOVING.   In March, we bought a new (to us) home! It's been quite an experience.   We began looking in December and we found our new home in January.   I won't go into the details, but the previous owners' story was very interesting and complicated.   And we had an emergency house blessing the morning after closing!   It's an odd thing to upgrade your living situation.   I kept walking around saying, "This is too nice for us."   I spoke to a friend about it and she said she felt the same way when they bought their home.  I mean, what percentage of the world's population sleeps on dirt floors and I have 3 different eating areas in my new house?   I've felt very guilty, but I've come to realize that I can accept the blessing and share it in the form of hospitality and generosity toward guests in our hom...

 On Valentine's Day, I found myself thinking about real love, or charity, as described in scripture: Love is patient, love is kind. It is not jealous, (love) is not pompous, it is not inflated, it is not rude, it does not seek its own interests, it is not quick-tempered, it does not brood over injury, it does not rejoice over wrongdoing but rejoices with the truth. It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endu res all things. Love never fails.  1Corinthians 13:4-7 People hurried around me and the familiar sounds of a rail station were muffled in the distance.   Above the noise of the hand dryer before me, I found myself suddenly overcome with thoughts of someone who had hurt my family a great deal .   The first time I sat and told a priest our story in regards to this person, he was shocked.   I remember him telling me that what had been done to us was such that I should not count on forgetting after forgiving....

I'm sorry--rude of me--you just needed someone to get mad with you, not a sermon!    This was the text message I received a few weeks ago from my dear friend, Gina.   I had called her earlier to share news of our day so far and we had to get off the phone before we were finished speaking.  Our family made a 29-hour round trip dash to south Louisiana to close on my parents' farm.   Actually, the farm is technically not in south Louisiana because it's north of I-10.   There are some people who don't think it's still the south at all if it's north of I-10!   The farm is on a little over sixteen acres of rolling land.   There are old massive pecan trees scattered throughout the property, a pond, several barns, and the brick house we called home.   Normally, I would insert old pictures of the place here, but my scanner is not cooperating; I'll add them another time!   We moved there right before I turned four...