Plane Conversations and My Beer-Drinking Angel

Here are things that happened on the trip...

God answered my prayer for conversations! I talked with an Indian lady doctor who plopped down beside me while I was waiting in the Shreveport airport. She gave me her whole philosophy (she’s a Hindu scientist, I think) and really challenged me. The conversation was really intense. We talked about God a lot, but I didn’t say a lot because I didn’t want to argue, and I wasn’t sure what God would have me say. She was much older than me and very sure of herself and extremely good at intellectual argument…not my strong point. But it was exciting to be able to talk about the Lord with a stranger, just like I had prayed. She saw me as weak and naïve, but I know God’s power was still at work in the things I said. Unlike past conversations like that, I didn’t feel pressured to prove anything!

I guess God knew that that conversation had mentally exhausted me, so the next one He gave me was actually really refreshing. And it happened because I did another sort of dumb thing. I journaled on the plane while squeezed between two strangers. It was personal stuff, but I decided it didn’t matter much if they tried to read it since I’d never see either of them again. And what was I going to do, not journal? No way.

So I scribbled and scribbled away, and suddenly, when I turned a page to scribble further, the guy on my right (I think in his 30’s), said, “Excuse me, but I couldn’t help seeing what you’re writing there…are you writing a book or something?” I laughed outright, and felt slightly sheepish. But I had been writing really openly about my thoughts on the book I was reading and about the life I just left behind, heavily mixed with my prayers to God.

So he started talking about the Lord, and because of the things he had read in my journal, we plunged into a very comfortable, enjoyable conversation about life and world history and God and the book of Revelations and all sorts of things. It went on for 4 1/2hours! He would ask me about things I had written, because obviously, not knowing me, he was wondering about some of my ideas. He seemed to be a pretty solid believer, and I had that weird feeling of meeting someone familiar in a strange land. I guess that’s what the body of Christ is like. It was really uplifting, and it made my longest flight pass quickly, so I really took it as a gift.

On the plane from Amsterdam, stuck between a nice Ukrainian girl and a rather garrulous Ukrainian sailor, I got my first clue that I wasn’t in Kansas anymore, Toto…I had made several friends on other flights and met people who really helped me out, whether it was hoisting my luggage into the overhead compartment, finding a terminal map, giving directions, or repeating to me what the garbled instruction over intercom were. So by this time I just thought the world must be full of nice, helpful people :)

I talked with Yulia, the girl, for a while, and then she and the sort of scruffy sailor leaned across me and my seat and rattled on in Russian for a long time while I dozed off and on. The guy kept drinking beer, and the smell was making me a bit ill. Then Yulia reported that had he said I would be a lot more attractive if I had longer hair. I just kind of laughed…I sort of counted being unattractive to him a plus. I could’ve told him he would be more attractive if his breath didn’t reek of beer…but, being me, I didn’t say that.

So the ride ended, and the guzzling sailor got my luggage down for me, which redeemed him a little. So I went through the airport, which was small and full of Ukrainian people with much less luggage than I had. I felt like I had a big red sign on my forehead that said the Ukrainian equivalent of “Gringo.”

I struggled and fumbled around with the luggage, just going one step at a time with the paperwork and luggage and not really feeling fearful. But the luggage was hard to deal with, and it was a while before I could get a cart. There was no way I could move it myself! I was heaving it one piece at a time and dragging it to my pile. As I stooped to grab the last piece, I caught a whiff of something familiar...the sickening beer smell…and I looked up to see my, um, “friend.”

I said hi and then walked away, but a few minutes later he came over to where I was standing at a kiosk staring at a declaration form with a really confused look on my face. He said “Here, here, let me help.” And he tried to help, but that was confusing too. I asked him which way the customs desk was, and suddenly he just handed me a declaration form, pushed his luggage into a corner, and said, “Come with me. I’ll talk and you just show them your passport.”

During this interchange I was thinking “Is it safe to even be talking with this guy? And now I’m going to follow him?” I felt like having a Red Riding Hood moment like the one in Hoodwinked where she looks up at the wolf and says “I’m not supposed to talk to strangers.” But I didn’t. He wasn't drunk, at least, for all that beer, and he was pushing my cart toward customs, where I needed to go anyway, so I went, just praying…

We didn’t even take my luggage to the desk. He went over to the lady and talked to her sort of confidentially and then came back to me, and said “Let’s go, let’s go.” I had determined I was NOT going anywhere besides where I already needed to go, and there were lots of people around. It happened so fast. Within three minutes of getting to customs he had pushed my cart through the double doors into the crowd and, catching the closing doors with his foot, said “I have to go back; my luggage is in there.” And then he was gone, and I was standing there holding my stamped passport, stunned, like I had just been guided through by an angel. A boozing angel, at that!

After waiting a while at the windows, Bruce and Bron came and took me home, and that was that...

P.S. I just ate some raisin yogurt! It was very weird but very yum! The yogurt and cheese have a similar strong flavor that is really good.

I'm Here!

I'm in Ukraine!! I have a lot to tell about the journey itself, but lets suffice it to say I conquered, (you know what "I" really means), and I'll tell more of the story tomorrow or whenever I manage to get out of bed...about my unlikely angel, the conversations, the fun little jogs through the airport. I made friends at every turn, it seems. God was just there at every step.

I don't have any words for Kiev right now, so I'll save that for later...It's so good to be with the Crowes again :)

"I may have to save up..."

That's what Ethan said said this morning when I told him I was leaving today. He said,
"Maybe I could go with you when you come back for Christmas." And I said,
"Well, that would cost a lot of money." Wide blue eyes grew wider.
"I may have to save up." Yeah, that's a lot of house chores.


"Not that we are competent in ourselves to claim anything for ourselves, but our competency comes from God. He has made us competent ministers of the new covenant..." (2 Cor. 3 something)

I am weak, but He is strong :)

Don't Start That!

(This was from yesterday, but I was in a hurry and forgot to post it!)

"You can kiss your family and friends good-bye and put miles between you, but at the same time you carry them with you in your heart, your mind, your stomach, because you do not just live in a world but a world lives in you."



-Frederick Beuchner



Mom just read that quote to me from The Shack. She's been reading it, and after hearing about it from every person I've seen in the past three weeks, I can't wait to read it myself and see what it's like. I get to tomorrow. On the plane. ON THE PLANE, PEOPLE! I'm not really excited or anything. Nah, not me. Not excited at all.



Upstairs, three stuffed suitcases sit waiting on the bed and floor, and the bedroom is the mess of the century. I said bye to Flic last night. She's the hardest one, probably, because I have no idea when I'll see her again since she's moving to Utah. *sniff sniff* She thought I was starting to cry when I hugged her and she said,



"Don't start that!" But I totally WASN'T. I had something in my eye, probably.



We'll leave for Shreveport around 1:00 pm, and at 5:00. I'm hoping for



presence of mind

good conversations on the plane

no bribes, threats, or other harrassements...

Transport of Antlers

I've just discovered that, unfortunately, I will not be able to take my antlers on board my flight to Ukraine. Apparently the airline has policies about antlers:

Antlers
"Northwest accepts antlers retained as hunting trophies as checked luggage only and only for travel within/between US/PR/VI/CA. A fee of $100 USD/CAD each-way per animal rack/antler will apply. Animal racks/antlers are not included as part of the free baggage allowance.

Northwest does not accept liability for loss, damage, or delay of antlers. Excess valuation insurance may not be purchased for transport of antlers."

So, no antlers for me. It would be way too expensive. I'm going to be so sad without my antlers. I'll have to settle for toting my sewing machine instead.

I'm looking up baggage restrictions right now. I don't know why everything goes so much slower than I think it should. I just think "I'll get on the internet really quick and check the baggage stuff"...and before I know, it hours have passed. Maybe I need to quit reading the restrictions on antlers?

I can't blog a lot right now and might not for a week or two, because I'm working at Mrs. Castleberry's doing mosaics this week and next. I'm really thankful for the job, just trying to rest in the fact that God can take care of what I'm not getting done at home.

Four weeks and two days...

A Varied Assortment of Topics I Don't Know How to Title

"Trust is the key to adventure."


-Alex Rover, Nim's Island


This afternoon, Dad, Ethan, and I went to the dollar show and saw Nim's Island, and I loved it! Definitely worth seeing. Flying lizards, monsoons, near volcanic eruptions, and random emails from an author on the other side of the world...great fun.


Nim lives on a secret pacific island with her father, is homeschooled :), and loves adventure stories. So when she gets in trouble while her father is stranded in a monsoon, her favorite adventure story author, Alex Rover, comes to helps her. (They've been communicating over email.)


The problem is that Alexandra Rover is terrified of the universe in general, orders hand sanitizer in bulk, and can't even muster the courage to go out to get the mail! But her alter-ego, Alex (her book character whom she alone can see) pushes her to risk the adventure...it's awesome. She has to travel across the world by big plane, little plane, bus, motor boat, heliocopter, and row boat in a monsoon and even ends up eating grub worms. Yeah, baby!


Everywhere she goes she's hanging back, but Alex, (an Indiana Jones/cowboy type) is always right there with her, urging her to overcome the fear side and do what is really in her to do. The results are hilarious and rather fascinating.


This past week I've been listing. Listing, as in making lists...or listing towards insanity. However you want to put it. In my mind, I think of how I could pack in this really organized way for Ukraine, and I start making lists in my mind, but because they aren't perfect, I don't write them down on paper. Believe it or not, I'm looking for the right kind of pen to make my list with. And at this point you may be saying, "honey, get a grip..." and I would agree with you.

So, no special pen. I made one list of toiletries and then went through some drawers and papers. I don't know what good that does except leave me with a tub of stuff I kind of want to take but definitely don't have room for. And it helps me rest at ease that there are a few less drawers and stacks I have to think about before I go. Or ever. After that, I sat on my bed with a tiny blank book I've hoarded since Christmas and a nice pen (I did find one after all!) and made lists of future lists I'm going to make :)

I'm just writing this to convince myself (and everyone else) once and for all how silly it is to worry over these things. Lists and more lists! All this Stuff. I just really want to forget about nail files and adaptors and AA batteries and deoderant and thermal underwear and find some pixie dust and POOF!!! Magically Be On The Plane. That will be a happy moment! I feel like Martha sometimes, but I know in my heart I'm Mary. Only one thing out of all these things is necessary...Jesu, joy of man's desiring.

It's kind of cool, actually, how my stress over preparations has been turned to good. I've woken up restless and unable to sleep a few nights, head full of tumultuous thoughts and little details. But then, when I started listening to music and focusing on the Lord, He started using my the dark, silent sleeplessness as an opportunity to share His thoughts about Ukraine! (Which, by the way, were a whole lot more exciting than mine!)

It's so great that in our weakest, most anxious and childish moments, God pours the power of His prayer and thoughts into us! It really is like Paul says: we are jars of clay. The "surpassingly great power" is from Him.

More and more, it's becoming evident to me that prayer is not something I can just decide to schedule or do. It's a gift from Him that requires only a willingness and readiness to recieve. We have to be willing to get in situations that are still and quiet (and often boring for a while!) but intercessory prayer itself is just the unmerited gift He gives His people as we get to know Him. He spontaneously infuses us with His thoughts, His spirit, His heart cries. And then we just say them back to Him!

I didn't ask to pass the infant morning hours in sweaty, hollow sleeplessness, and I sure wouldn't have stayed awake if it had been up to me, but in the midst my helplessness, God picked that time especially to share His thoughts with me! Cool!

Dad and I Have a Mammoth Adventure

Here are Dad and I, two happy wanderers. If we look sort of wet in this picture it's because we are wet. Rather, we are dripping cats and dogs. Inside a cave. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

This morning, we left Grandma's house, and I thought we were going straight home. But Dad surprised me with a detour and we went to Kentucky instead, to tour Mammoth Cave, proudly called the longest cave in the world- at 367 miles long.

Here's what it looked like inside:
Yep yep yep. It was cool. Really cool. 54 degrees, to be exact, which feels more like 40 when you're soaked to the bone.

We took one tour at 1:30, got back at 3:30, and sat waiting until 4:00 for the Historic Tour we had tickets for. As we sat at the visitor's center, we could hear thunder rolling closer and closer and see ominous clouds closing in. Finally the guide got everyone together and started his talk about how people with health problems shouldn't go 200+ feet underground, etc., etc.

We could tell everything was about to fall out, and we had a 5-10 minute walk down to the cave entrance. We dearly hoped the guide would save the gab for a nice dry spot inside the cave, but he didn't. As soon as we stepped out from under the shelter, the sky broke into a million pieces and kawoosh!!! More rain than I knew could fall in five minutes concentrated all its powers on our little group.

We hurried, but the rain wasn't hindered at all. My jeans were soaked, and I tried to keep the camera dry under my shirts, which were soaked too. Beside us, Mennonite parents held their little girl by the hands while she screamed and wailed in terror and the rain streamed down her braids and long dress.

Wow, was it cold inside! The cold damp seized us, and crept up our fingers and arms until we could hardly bend them. But we had a great tour. The guide told some interesting stories about a slave named Stephen Bishop who explored parts of the cave where no one had been before and then made accurate maps from memory afterwards.

And about how a doctor set up a Tuberculosis hospital in the cavern thinking the constant temperature and quiet atmosphere would help his patients. I think it helped hurry them on, actually. It only lasted ten months, and later they found out that TB patients needed warm, dry climates, not cold, humid ones.

Anyhow. That was our adventure. Hilariously cold, wet, and fun. We were ravenous and frozen when we got done, so we had a hearty supper and made it to this hotel in Clarksville, TN. The internet here is faster than my brain, which is very cool and a little bit scary. I guess I'll just enjoy it while it lasts :)

It was time for bed yesterday...I think I need to go to sleep now.

Sydney Learns About Poison Ivy and Dave Eats Cold Pancakes

It's our last day in Tennessee, and Lizzie and I are at Harmony House coffee shop with Liz's "Little Pal," Sydney. Liz goes to Bryan college, and they have a program where the students "adopt" a pal to mentor and hang out with. Sydney is seven, and she looks like a miniature Kiera Knightley-- only healthier and happier. Full head of brown curls, big hazel eyes. Liz picked her up earlier this afternoon and we went to the library, where Syd got a few books and I got a book of poetry by a man who is from Iceland and apparently likes classical music A LOT.

We went back to Grandma's and sat reading on the bed for a long time, and then I did Sydney's hair so that she looked like a beautiful little princess (well, she already did.) Just so you know, the thing shining behind my head is an ocelating fan, not a halo or anything interesting like that...

Then we went for a walk outside, Elizabeth donning her "gathering basket." She studies herbs and their medicinal value, and likes to pick whatever she can find around the yard. I found her teaching Sydney what poison ivy looks like, making her point to it with a stick whenever she found any. She would make a great botany teacher!

Kimmy and Aunt Ann are in Nashville doing some college stuff for Kim, because she's going to Belmont College there in the fall. So we said bye to them last night.

Earlier today, Elizabeths' fiance, Dave, came by. I had met him before, but not since they were engaged. So it was fun to see how they interact together. Liz had made some pancakes which were then cold, but she offered Dave some anyway. He ate two, and congratulated her on being the first person to have made a "cold pancake," while still lamenting their coldness. Later, Liz and I ate some more of them, and she said "It's like journey bread."

"Lembas bread!" I said.

"Nasty!" said Sydney.

So here's a picture of Dave and Liz:

That was after Dave had choked down the rest of his pancake. There was a better picture before that...

More From Jonesville

(Written Monday)

Dad and I are probably the mystery of Jonesville by now, after our daily and sometimes bi-daily walks through the neighborhood in this heat wave. I joked that we might just end up in the newspaper. For one thing, we’re the only people we’ve seen walking the blocks, and we’re probably the only ones crazy enough to be out in 98 degree weather, which is 15 degrees above average for this time of year.

Tonight as we walked by one house, we waved a greeting to a guy clad in a white sleeveless shirt and tattoo, sitting slouched on his front steps.

“Hot enough for ya?” he asked.

This morning we got “attacked” by “Rascal,” a cute little fluff ball who was, thankfully, all bark and no bite. Once I managed to pet him, we pretty much made friends. We met a shiny black snake, too, which made a quick series of S’s out of the road when Dad through sticks at it. We’ve also seen two deer, a hawk, and a whole lot of Flopsies, Mopsies, and Cottontails.

Tonight there weren’t really leftovers for all of us, so Dad and I visited a Chinese restaurant intriguingly called “Hong Kong Buffet.” There was nothing much Hong Kong about it, and neither of us thought the food was spectacular, but it was clean…so I didn’t mind.

The girl in charge sat calmly sorting silverware at a table in the back, giving us prompt attention when needed since we were the only customers for most of the meal.

My fortune cookie amused me. It said, “You are a lover of words. Someday you will write a book.” :) I don’t take much stock in fortune cookies, but it’s nice to hear encouragement, even if it’s from a random source!

After my long nap and more MickeyD’s coffee, I have no idea when I’ll go to bed.

God is so good to me. The knowledge of His life inside me and peaceful assurance of His perfect capability to provide for me and lead me through each day is what fills me with love for Him right now. I just appreciate it so much.

I don’t really understand life. I don’t understand why so many people’s lives are wrapped up in what seems the tragic isolation and littleness of illness, or old age, wasting away with no apparent purpose. And then there are the people who faithfully care for them…I know it is right and good and pleasing to God to care for the sick, the old, the helpless. But in a world where I’ve always been taught to find purpose and meaning and accomplishment in life, this looks like a waste. I have no idea what God’s purpose could be in all this, what it even has to do with His kingdom.

When I think of “God’s Kingdom” I think of young, passionate, able bodied people going and doing and being. But what about Ima Jean, giving these later years of her life to care for my great grandpa and others like him? I know everyone has a different calling before God. There are a lot of things about life I just don’t understand, but I feel confident leaving it in His hands right now.

It’s nice to know that His Spirit is in me, even when I’m sitting in a deserted Chinese restaurant over a plate of sticky food. It’s not really up to me to “save people” it’s up to Him to do what He wants with me. I’m like, “Have at it Lord.” I have this special sense of being “Sent” wherever I go, even if there’s no obvious reason in my mind for it, or when I’m not doing anything I really see as “important.” It’s kinda cool.

I Know I've Overblogged...

Well, I finally got to to internet, after three desert days :) Dad's having withdrawals concerning coffee, newspaper, and peanut butter, but for me, it's mainly just the internet.

I guess I've overblogged all at once...I wrote the last three posts Saturday and yesterday but of course couldn't post them till today.

I'm still trying to wake up from a nearly three hour nap (I finally decided napping was a worthwhile way to spend the afternoon at this point, and caught up on all the sleep I've been behind on for the past several weeks.) At least, I like to think that.

SIdewalk Thoughts

One thing I’ve been thinking about while I’m driving and walking with Dad is how God made these set institutions and domains in our universe that are similar the world over. I love how there are families and tribes and nations and peoples.

They’re so broken and messed up, but at the same time, they’re created and arranged by God for a purpose. And little glimpses of that purpose still fight through. God’s plans are ingenious. Who, anyway, would have thought of having people in families in houses in communities in people groups in nations on continents on a planet in a universe? With schools and churches and parks and hospitals and libraries and stores and movie theaters? Where did the idea of economies come from, with carpet factories and pizzerias and shopping malls? What about governments, good and bad, with their tyrannical monarchs, law keeping judges, governors, policemen, presidents, parliaments, congresses, councils, chiefs, and consuls? How did neighborhoods happen, road signs evolve, libraries grow up? And cultures! How do I even begin?

At World Mandate a lady whose name escapes me now…Carol Davis?...talked about how there are many “domains” in society, like science, art, politics, religion, communication, engineering, education, transportation, and so forth. I can’t really explain it like she did, but she encouraged believers to use their particular gifts, callings, or desires in a certain domain to benefit the kingdom of God. You don’t have to call yourself a missionary to be part of sharing the gospel in God’s kingdom. You can simply serve in the domain you are in. Although I don’t have a drive for a certain career necessarily, I love the very idea of God’s amazing planning and organization, the way He divided everything up to make life work the way it does. I love the institutions of marriage and family, despite all the quirks and pain and brokenness there is in the world within them. I love how every town is different, with its road names and local stores and area accents. I love even the diversity of architecture even between regions here in the U.S.

I love the habiting of a place, dwelling in it, soaking up what it is and what it smells like, feels like, looks like, sounds like. Nothing is ever perfect, nothing ever completely serene. Lamp lit windows coexist with low-toned, bitter arguments; garbage litters roads where sweet pea vines trail. I can feel more in place in a room far from home, with a bed and a lamp and a little window and my little suitcase of things, than at home in my own room with everything I own and know close by.

Sometimes I love a place because someone I love is there, or was there once. But sometimes I love it for the fact that it snatched back a nearly lost memory, that it taught me what life is, or that it gave me a quiet place to hear God.

Just walking this little neighborhood with Dad has opened up questions and horizons and given me tickets to trains of thought I haven’t ever been on before. The sun goes down and slips over time zones, and wakes people up somewhere in a valley in Tajikistan. Vacant lots stand full of weeds, and kudzoo continues to grow at a foot a day to take over eastern Tennessee. A dead rabbit decomposes on a cracked sidewalk in Jonesville. All kinds of crazy things are happening that we completely take for granted, and what’s even crazier is that it all comes from God and goes back to God…

Hm. You probably think by now that I really have made it to the funny farm and my story about going with Dad to see Grandma was just a cover up. That’s ok. I’m enjoying myself in a mild, pleasant way, like taking a long hot bath in the winter. And I’ve discovered that it’s really easy to keep my things picked up when I have all this unpressured, unhurried time.

Grandpa is snoring in his chair with his head cocked back and his feet propped up. (It’s more like the breath is hurled up from his chest as if it has a long way to travel.) We haven’t done much but pass each other in the kitchen when he’s on his way to get his oatmeal, but I like him.

Grandma is on a word search in Webster’s for a word I asked her about, and she found a poem printed in an old, yellowed bit of newspaper.

Dad is in his “special chair” by the other lamp, looking at Adirondack chair patterns in an edition of “Handyman” magazine. I can see his wheels turning behind his glasses :)

Time for a bowl of My-Current-Favorite Organic Cereal-That-Looks-Like-Dog-Food with the milk we keep giving the sniff test. It says June 4 but it keeps passing the test. Until tomorrow…

In Which We Go To Church and Escape To Cracker Barrel

This morning Great Grandpa, Grandma, Dad, and I went to Grandpa’s church. We came in just a tad late for Sunday school, during a teaching on Jeremiah. About fifteen pairs of eyes turned on us, and several greetings of “Hey, Ernie, good to see you” came out.

They all seemed happy to see him, and happy to see grandma and meet me (he introduced me as his granddaughter, so they thought I was grandma’s daughter, because Dad was out in the hallway.) There was some Virtual Cheek Pinching, and some of those Comments Grandmothers Make (with the exception of mine), “Isn’t she a cute little thing.” Later, one older gentleman told Dad he didn’t think I was more than twelve. So much for feeling grown up and mature :)

It did help, however, to realize that I was probably the first person under the age of sixty to have stepped foot in that room for a number of years…

The service was not lively by any stretch, but there was quite a bit of scripture reading, and the speaker (who wasn’t the regular pastor) read right through the book of Jonah, merely commenting on the way. It’s nice to have it like that, undiluted.

Grandpa’s having a rough time of it, so we drove home and dropped him and Grandma off, and Dad took his newly-twelve-year-old daughter to Cracker Barrel. We had a very nourishing meal. At least it tasted and seemed that way. Neither Grandma nor Grandpa eat very much at meals, and I guess we were both self conscious (at least I was) about pigging out around them, but we were both famished. The appetite that was languishing so at home seems to have leapt to life with the changes of scene and circumstance.

I gobbled up chicken and fried okra and scarfed down turnip greens and butter-bedecked cornbread. I’m a perfect southern granny when it comes to cornbread and turnip greens. When I looked at the mushy, pond scummy looking mass, I couldn’t figure out why in the world I want to eat them, but the first bite assured me my craving was true.

Dad and I took a self-guided (Dad-guided) tour of Jonesville and Elkin after lunch, which really didn’t take long. Elkin has some beautiful homes, featuring basements and those old-fashioned windows I adore. The streets are windy and hilly. We finally located a Wi-Fi hotspot at a friendly looking coffee shop on Main Street, which I plan to visit soon.

Just down the street from the coffee shop is a stately looking post office which I might visit as well, and just down from that, the Elkin Public library, which I would probably want to visit if I were going to stay longer :) From there, the street turned down a row of houses and trees that had belonged there a long time.

It surprised me when, after driving down that street, I found myself thinking, “I wish I had a reason to live here.” I’d like to hang around that library, reading poetry and writing letters to mail at the post office, and hide out in the coffee shop, blogging my heart away and maybe really Writing Something. Maybe living in one of those Houses with Personality and Scope for the Imagination. Spending some time in the woods on the mountains.

I don’t know. It’s just one of a thousand little dreams in my head, and it sounds kind of lonely with just me in it. It’s not something I’d want to spend my life doing, but maybe a summer with some other girls who like to read poetry. Hmm.

On the Way To Grandpa's

(Written on Saturday)

Dad and I just finished a twilight walk around several blocks of Grandpa Pitz’s neighborhood. It’s a quiet neighborhood at this time of evening; the houses are close and small and look cozy with lamplight behind their opaque curtains. We’re just doing a lot of nothing, but it gives me lots of time to think and observe, and it’s not boring because everything is just a little different from home.

We arrived here in Jonesville, NC at my great-grandpa’s house at about 3:30 or so, after about six hours of driving. I spent most of the time splitting my head with yawns, but it wasn’t till we’d neared our destination that I actually went to sleep. I hate to sleep when I’m traveling because I’m afraid I’ll miss something, if nothing but perfectly good car time staring out the window :) Before I finally napped, I stared out the window, read passing signs, read Maya Angelou, lost an earring in the backseat, and listened to a Russian language tape.

We saw some interesting signs, including one for “Scratch Gravel Road” and “Hungry Mother State Park.” But the one that arrested my attention was a traffic warning that read,

“Speed limits enforced by aircraft”

Instantly I pictured B52 bombers screaming over the interstate, decimating unruly speeders! Actually, we saw a less-threatening-looking helicopter hovering over the highway while we stood in the Wendy’s parking lot after lunch, so I expect they have a more humane way of handling things.

The best part of the drive was when we glimpsed the hazy edges of the Smokies and the valley swathed in mist as it started to rain. Only about a bucketful of drops fell splattered the windshield, but it was great!! The smell of it was so clear and clean-- I had to just lay on my pillow and drink it like a cup of water.

We didn't have a lot of view of the mountains, so soon after that I fell asleep, and the next thing I remember was Dad’s hand nudging me awake as we drove into Elkin. There was the new Walmart and a twisty road passing houses with wonderful windows that inspired my imagination, and then Jonesville, with streets and houses vaguely familiar. And then Grandpa’s.

Grandpa was pretty tired, and none of us had much to say. We sat on the orange couch for a while (which is not a very loving couch, I have to say) next to window I fondly remember sleeping under on a warm night when I think there were fireflies. But I can’t remember for sure. The fireflies might have been somewhere else. The house seemed so lonely that I didn’t really mind the company of a slim brown spider that wandered out to say hello :)

The Best of Two Worlds

So, I’m at Grandma’s now, and thoroughly enjoying it. Right now Dad is in the living room looking at old yearbooks. I had to laugh, because in all the pictures his mouth looks like Ethan’s :)

Roads are delicious. I spent some time yesterday cultivating appreciation for my southern roots (which I really have never bothered doing before). Observing and absorbing the long, unchanging lines of towering pines along the interstate, the hurried vastness of the Mighty Mississippi, and the enchanting iron work fences at the Vicksburg rest stop, I discovered that I kind of…like this. The mountains up here, though, are so beautiful to me. They aren’t very big mountains, but the peaceful mystery of these hills with little houses tucked into them delights me.

We made decent time yesterday on I-20, and I actually got to drive about half the time! I was surprised and delighted at how quickly I adjusted to it. Dad actually got to sleep a bit, and at least rest in the passenger’s seat. And I got a lot of practice passing eighteen wheelers. Things were going so well that I even braved Birmingham and triumphed, and then tried Chattanooga at rush hour and conquered again! (There really wasn’t much traffic though, considering it was rush hour). So now I feel confident that I can really and truly drive on the interstate and even through cities, and could even do it alone, if need be. That would be an adventure! But I think acquiring the confidence to attempt it is the biggest hurtle for me…and it’s jumped!!

Last night Aunt Ann, Kimmy, and Elizabeth came over and we had supper together. Then the girls and I sprawled out in the bedroom and talked while I played with Kim’s beautiful hair. It’s nice to be with them again.

After they left, I tried to go to bed because I had been up since 3:15 a.m. and never even tried to kid myself into thinking I could sleep in the van…but alas. Elizabeth had left some books on the shelf in the bedroom, and I was only going to take a peek, but…You guessed it-- I fell to temptation and was up till 1:00 a.m. reading an extraordinary story.

The book wasn’t very long, so I sort of speed read it and finished it. It was Total Abandon, by Gary Witherall. He and his wife went to Lebanon several years ago as missionaries and she was killed by a gunman after about two years there. In a way it’s a sad story, but their realness and devoted, joyful love for the Lord really captured me. You think you dread “tragedies” like that…but at the same time there’s an element of longing to fully abandon everything to God in that way.

Needless to say, I didn’t want to get up very early this morning, and when I first woke up at 7:30, realizing that it was actually only 6:30 by my body’s Texas clock, I was sort of disgusted. It was already light! So I kind of went back to sleep, and then sort of got up, but not really, and then at 9:45 I finally went out to the living room where Grandma was working a crossword and watching a game show. Soft sunlight was coming in through the lacy curtains, and it felt like a good morning.

Dad had gone for a walk at the track here in Dayton, and part way through my breakfast he came in with a McDonald's iced coffee for me :) I felt loved.

Liz told me that the Dayton library has wireless internet, so I’m writing this at Grandma’s table and plan to go to the library later. Fun, fun. This wireless stuff is new and exciting to me :) I’ve always loved coming to Grandma’s, but I always felt a little stuck and isolated. This way, I seem to have the best of two worlds.

We’ll probably be leaving for North Carolina on Saturday. For now, we’ll just hang out and enjoy each other :)