The Traveler's Gift: Part I

                The last couple of months have just flown by for me with one trip after another and the constant running here and there for my kids.  With the start of school, I hoped for quiet time to write and edit.  Though I have had more time for these tasks, I still find myself running.  My daughter just had braces put on yesterday, so we had a couple extra appointments to get to.  Girl Scouts is starting for the year.  This adds a treat schedule and study on my part as I am taking a more active role in leading.  Finally, football dominates with games on Friday, Quarterback Club on Tuesday, and food to be made for the tailgate barbecue each home pregame.  Oh, and I also have Cursillo meetings and soon more work for this activity.  But with all this going on, I am forever reading with amazing ideas that I have wanted to share with you.

                One book I have wanted to talk about I read in early June.  For going away gifts for my boys, a friend gave them The Traveler’s Gift by Andy Andrews.  One of the books sat on the table for a couple of days until I decided to read it before the oldest left.  What a delightful story.  I recommend it for people who want to grow.  The protagonist journeys through different experiences in history.  The people he meets give him the seven decisions for success.  I would love to discuss these decisions with you, but you really need to buy the book and discover them for yourself.  Having the desire to sell my writing, I have to support my fellow writers, so go buy the book.  Both boys read the book and recommend it as well.

There are some quotes that struck a chord that I would like to share.  When asked if Christopher Columbus was bothered by being the only one to believe the world is round he stated, “…that bothers me not in the least.  Truth is truth.  If a thousand people believed something foolish, it is still foolish!  Truth is never dependent upon consensus of opinion.  I have found that it is better to be alone and acting upon the truth in my heart than to follow a gaggle of silly geese doomed to mediocrity” page 80. 

I so love this attitude.  I couldn’t have written it better.  I see thousands of people following the secular trends of our time buying into the fashion industry, “keeping up with the Jones,” and the list could go on for pages.  Follow silly geese, I think not.  I believe in God, marriage, discipline, independence, patriotism, and hard work.  Yes, standing alone can be extremely lonely, but at the end of the day I can still look myself in the mirror and know I am living the life God wants for me.  Do I sin and crash and burn at times?  Definitely!  But I am not a goose.

                My children are not geese either.  Where many young adults are seeking to find themselves, my boys know they are children of God and soldiers to boot.  I could go more into how they don’t follow the crowd, but the examples are more personal in nature and not mine to tell.  My daughter is learning not to be a goose.  This last year the girls in her class campaigned against boys as is typical to this age group.  Madelle stood her ground and defended all boys of the world using the argument that she loved her brothers and dad; thus, boys are good.  Standing up for ones beliefs can be very hard, hurtful, and lonely, but my children have that strength of spirit. 

                “Truth is never dependent upon consensus of opinion.”  I very much need to look at this as I tread the waters of my writing goals.  Columbus conquered the untruth of what people said in his day about the world.  I have to overcome the lack of enthusiasm that will surely hit once I start turning my writing into agents and editors.  I will get a lot of rejections that will include my inner critic (I named him Larry).  Yet, those geese will have to step aside because I know the truth of my writing.  Granted, my work may never be published in the traditional manner, but to listen to the denial of my work would be foolish.  I am called to follow my heart and God’s voice through the written word.  That is my truth.

                Are you a goose?  I hope not.  They chase people trying to snap at them.  Frankly, they scare me.

                Blessings to you all.

My Writing Journey

                In the last seven days, I have been on an adventure.  Really, the journey began with the assigned writing paper I was given in grade school when I began to love to write.  However, the last episode ended yesterday.  I have no idea what God has in store for me, but I am a bit excited.

                Early this summer, I signed up for a writer’s conference and to submit my novel.  With only twelve openings for written work, I was excited that I was selected.  I proceeded to ignore all the work I needed to do because well it was summer.  I love to play and travel during the summer not sit behind a desk writing.  Lame excuse, but I am what I am as Popeye says. 

While in Atlanta, I received an e-mail stating the editor who was going to read my work canceled, did I want to withdraw?  No, I procrastinate enough.  I was determined to send the material.  Last week, I looked over the letter and decided I should see what genre the new editor preferred.  Non-fiction.  Oh, no.  I was in trouble.  I went out to look at the publishing house.  Very small and they only represent non-fiction.  With less than a week to submit, I didn’t have a clue what I would do.  I would love to say this will teach me to stop procrastinating, but I highly doubt it.  I think I thrive under the pressure. 

I thought and I thought some more for about a total of eighteen hours.  The idea to put a few of my blog posts together caused a little excitement.  I didn’t have to come up with a new non-fiction idea let alone write the fifteen pages to go with a two page book proposal.  About thirty minutes later, the realization of not having first publishing rights with my blog material made me realize this idea stunk! 

While looking through my writing folders, I spotted the one entitled Suffering.  The little envelope design on my computer popped into my head.  I could work with this project.  My heart started to race.  Could I pull it off?  Not being able to sit still, I took a walk by the irrigation ditch, up the road, through the field, and back home.  I prayed, I daydreamed, I smiled, and I prayed some more.  I really felt God tugging me in this direction.  Once back in front of the computer, the research of how to write a book proposal began in all haste.

Yesterday, I successfully sent off the proposal and first fifteen pages of the book.  First reader number one doesn’t like the Creation Story which I use, but he said the description was good.  He also helped me tweak a couple of areas.  First reader number two started out not liking the topic, but began to become interested the more she read.  I am encouraged by both viewpoints.  As always, I was a bundle of nerves as I sent the files to the conference director.  Will the publisher like it enough to invest?  Will he have good things to say?  Now I have a month to wait for an outcome.  I so hate waiting!

I will admit that every step I have taken with this project, I feel God’s hand stirring the flames.  I really believe He wants me to write this book.  Do I believe that it will get published?  Not necessarily.  The project may merely be a tool for me to learn more about myself.  My prayer is that He is with me the entire time.

Blessings to you all.

Southern Travel: Day 4 and 5

                The last two days of our travel, we didn’t do much in the line of touristy things.  We did find a wonderful local barbecue spot for lunch.  We drove by it a couple of times because it was truly that little hole in the wall.  My, of my, was it good.  We also went to the Front Porch.  All of us agreed that driving to Georgia in a big moving van would be a ton of fun if we could fill it up with all the antiques we saw in this huge warehouse.  I bought a tin sign of Gone With the Wind to round out my little collection.  Jerry bought a couple of comic books for a friend who collects them. 

                The main item of business was going to our son’s changing blue ceremony on day four and spending time with him and going to his graduation from infantry school on day five.  The changing blue ceremony went quickly, but held some difficulty.  They fired a cannon three times.  My poor husband almost lost his control.  Why they didn’t warn the veterans in the audience who are plagued with PTSD is beyond my understanding.  Fortunately, he composed himself enjoying the main part of the festivities.

Jerry putting on Michel's blue braid which stands
for the infantry.

Me and my amazing son.

                I was very impressed with the graduate on the fifth day.  They used smoke, the Army band, and infantry maneuvers and demonstrations.  This momma was very proud as her son marched by the stands.

Michel marching.

Me, Michel, and Jerry

                Our trip back into Atlanta went very well.  We dropped off Michel but didn’t have to be at the airport ourselves for about six more hours.  We drove into the city looking for a sign of entertainment when I saw one for the zoo.  We stopped by to visit some of the animals.

My favorite at this zoo, the orangutan

Who doesn't love an elephant.

                God blesses us so much.  Every day on our vacation, we saw signs of His goodness in the beauty of the land, the friendliness of the people, the delicious tastes of Southern cooking, the preservation of our history, and the joys of our son and his successes.  Thank you God!

                Blessings to you all.

Southern Travel: Day 3

                I am always amazed at how well my children keep me busy distracting me from my chores and writing. The last two weeks have been a whirlwind getting my oldest into an apartment in a town 120 miles from where I live after his coming back from military training and my middle child set for his senior year of football after being back only a couple of days from his military training.  The daughter also has started a brand new school.  Wow, busy, busy, busy.  With a quiet house, I can now sit down and do a little work, so, back to the Southern Travel with day three.

                We packed up and left the hotel room.  Both of us were tired and a little grumpy after a ton of touring and staying up late meeting some really nice guys from the United Kingdom.  After a little breakfast, we jumped on the interstate headed to Florida.  My husband, though trying at times as we all are, is fun to travel with.  He saw a sign with Scarlet O’Hara on the big billboard and asked if I wanted to go to the museum.  Ah, yes! Our detour took us about twenty miles out of our way to the Road to Tara Museum in Jonesboro, Georgia.  Just a small little depot with a ton of items from the movie, I loved it.  I took a ton of pictures of the dresses which I believe where only replicas, but I adored them just the same.  I also took pictures of Margaret Michener pictures along with the house she based the book after and all the Hollywood pictures.  I also went shopping in the gift store.  After a year, I have finally figured out how I am going to decorate my craft room.  I bought four black and white prints and a key ring holder wall mount.  Jerry actually bought a cookbook all about grits.  Yum.  There were also some cool artifacts at the museum.



A Sherman Necktie: Gen Sherman disabled the railroads by
heating the iron and twisting it.






 
               








A bail of cotton.



                








Once on the road again, the drive to our next destination seemed to take forever.  After being disappointed at the pecan grove (the store was closed until October), we finally pulled into Andersonville Prison.  Before going to Georgia, I read the book Andersonville Journey, very powerful.  In some respects, the author prepared me for the visit.  Seeing the cemetery didn’t overwhelm me of which I am thankful.  The prison area though gave me pause.  Twenty-six acres is huge.  I couldn’t get over the enormity of the land mass and realizing every inch of it was filled with Union soldiers living off of practically nothing but small amounts of corn, occasional pork, and dirty water.  As typical, I took a lot of photos, but they don’t do the area any justice.  How do you capture the past, especially an atrocious past, in a picture with beautiful green grass on a beautiful sunny day?  Here are a few that may shed a little light on the area.



The North Gate
This is where the prisoners would enter the prison.



Providence Springs:  Sight where lightning struck
giving the prisons much needed fresh water when
the spring revealed itself.



The wall of the prison is where the Stockade
sign stands.  A railing stood where the
deadline sign stands.  If the prisoners
crossed the deadline, they were shot.



               

Civilians (women too) would climb up the
guard tower to take a look at the prisoners.
I can't imagine climbing up the ladder
in a dress.

                Some figures connected to Andersonville, captured the best and worst of our nation.  Some of the Union soldiers took to stealing and beating their fellow comrades.  Five of them were convicted of these crimes and murder.  They were sentenced to hang.  I find it quite fitting they were not buried among the other soldiers who died in the prison by other causes.

Raiders Graves set apart from the rest.

               

                Dorence Atwater lived in the prison and worked with the lists of dead.  He went through many trials defended the list both before and after the war.  Due to him and Clara Barton, they were able to rebury the dead and make a beautiful resting place for the souls lost at Andersonville Prison. 

The last numbered marker
I could find.  This is about how
many men died in about one
year at Andersonville.

This is the only marker to have a
dove carved on top.  There is
no record why this is the only one.

                The trip from the prison to Columbus really did take forever.  We were both very tired and couldn’t find a place for lunch.  Once we finally reached our final destination, we checked into our new hotel and went to an early dinner.  As the day came to a close, we walked along the Chattahoochee River and across the bridge to Alabama.  My thoughts went to the next day when I would finally get to see my son.

                Blessings to you all.

Southern Travel: Day 2

                During our trip down South, I took hundreds of pictures.  Once home, I started going through them and unfortunately I didn’t have many that needed to be deleted.  I am at a loss of how I am going to organize them for a scrapbook and just including a couple for the blog is tougher yet.  Tuesday (day 2) I believe is the hardest day of all to write about.  This is the day I saw my first Civil War battlefield, saw strategic positions the North fought hard for, and saw the area one of my ancestors died in during a battle.  But here I go giving it a try.

                The Battle of Chickamauga in the West happened September 19-20, 1863 just a couple months after Gettysburg in the East.  The location is right near the Georgia, Tennessee border.  The South won the battle driving the North back to Chattanooga, Tennessee.  In the two days, 34,000 Soldiers died.  We browsed the tourist center where I took a picture of my favorite generals.

General U.S. Grant and General William T. Sherman

                The entire experience at Chickamauga was overwhelming and exhausting for me.  Our first stop, there were a number of monuments, cannons, and plaques.  I took pictures of all of them, pretty simple until the next stop.  I took about ten pictures when Jerry finally explained to me the battle line extended for a mile and a half with all these items extending the entire distance.  I would venture a guess of 100 or more monuments and plaques.   

A few memorials.

Many monuments pictured the acorn to
repressent the units toughness.





            

Jerry checking out the position.

My favorite monument.

   

                Civilians were affected by the battle.  The Brotherton family took cover with other families from the area a mile from their home to escape the fighting with no food or shelter.  The youngest daughter came back in search of food to find four cows hadn’t been taken.  She planned to give the milk to the families, but instead shared it with the wounded soldiers surrounding her home, Adaline’s journey to holiness.

Brotherton Home

                Here is where Hans Heg was mortally wounded.  I would like to find out more about him.  He led the Scandinavian immigrants into battle.  In this area of the battlefield, the ground was covered with the dead, dying, and wounded.  A person could not cross this field without stepping on bodies.

Site of COL Heg's fall.

                An area Jerry and I would both like to study is the “Lightning Brigade.”  This monument to them is a tower.  We of course went to the top.

Monument of the Lightning Brigade

At the top of the monument.

The view from the top of the monument.

              Lookout Mountain stands Southwest of Chattanooga.  The city and Tennessee River were a strategic area for supply lines and crucial to the war.  The Confederates wanted it back and surrounded it to the south.  The Union army scaled the steep mountain pushing the South back into Georgia.  They did the same at Missionary Ridge which is to the Southeast of town.

View from Lookout Mountain

              Missionary Ridge holds family history for me.  One of my ancestors (a great, great, great uncle died in these woods.  The city has grown up around the woods.  We tried to find where he might have been, but this is not an area that has been saved for tourists like Chickamauga; thus, I had to take a picture from the car.

Small section of Missionary Ridge

                After being in Chattanooga, we wanted to explore General Sherman’s march down to Atlanta.  Unfortunately, the sun began to set.  Another time we will have to go back to do this.  It was nice to see how wooded the terrain is that the armies had to travel through.  All those men who sacrificed on both sides for what they thought right is amazing.  Looking back, it is easy to see the side of good, but I imagine God worked hard to support both sides because they were all His children.

                 Blessings to you all.

Southern Travel: Day 1

                My journey to holiness always includes history and travel.  God instilled in me a love of things old and to go look at those old items.  I get transferred to a romanticized idea of what life must have been like for my ancestors and the great people who forged the world.  Reluctantly, I do delve into the bad as well and morn how the human race fails to learn from the past.  This year I have done a lot of travel around the state.  Virginia City, Butte, Fort Benton, Deer Lodge, and Kalispell, Montana have been fun places to hear new stories, but my real passion finds me in the South.  I thought I would share with you my journey with some fun or not so fun stories of both mine and the past.

                My husband and I flew to Atlanta, Georgia on August 13.  I was giddy with anticipation.  This turned to irritation when we couldn’t check our bags because we were late.  Jerry thought an hour would be fine; they say an hour is late.  Not letting him live this down especially after having to throw away shampoo, condition, lotion, and I don’t remember what else, I finally admitted it was nice not to have to wait for our luggage at baggage claim and we saved $50.00.  We will be earlier next time!!!

I would see the dreaded Peachtree Street again.  Years ago I traveled to Atlanta for a work conference.  Being a good steward of the government, I spent the night about ten miles from my conference site to stay within the government rate.  Being from a tiny town, I thought I left well before the morning rush, but found myself in seven lanes of massive traffic.  I came about two inches of hitting the car in front of me when we went from 70 miles per hour to 0 in five seconds flat.  Once I hit the exit I needed, I had finally quit shaking. 

Next, I spent an hour in the middle of downtown Atlanta trying to find my next hotel which was supposed to be on a Peachtree something.  I don’t remember how many times I drove into the bad side of town scared to death, praying like crazy.  To top it off, Atlanta has a million roads with Peachtree as their name: W Peachtree Pl NW, Peachtree St. NW, Peachtree Center Ave NE and these are just the ones I find on Google quickly!  I stopped twice for directions and called the hotel twice.  Finally on the second call, I realized the name of the hotel the receptionist said was different than the one I booked.  She sweetly told me they had just changed names.  I looked up from the parking lot I was in and there was the hotel with a different name.  I had driven by it a ton of times.  Needless to say, I didn’t drive the rest of my stay unless I had a co driver!  Thus, I had to take a couple of pictures of the name.

After checking into the hotel, we talked to one of the hotel staff who gave us a map of the twenty block area telling us the good places to go for food and entertainment.  We walked around and stopped for a drink at an Irish Pub.  Finally it was time to go to Pitty Pat’s Porch for some good Southern cooking.  Well, it wasn’t just good, it was to die for.  Oh my.  I had the best watermelon punch, fried green tomatoes, cheese grits, fried chicken, and pecan pie.  I also enjoyed the décor.  Photos and pictures of Gone With the Wind (my favorite movie and book of all time) hung everywhere.  The best dinner we couldn’t have found anywhere else.

We finished our first day with watching some preseason football at Hooters.  Yes, Hooters.  I have to say, they have the best setup for a sports bar.

 Blessings to you all.

Psalm 13

                A couple of months ago I sat in church listening to the readings.  As is usually my tendency, I blanked out during the reading of Psalms only really paying attention to the music.  Every Mass, Psalms is read and I never take anything away from the text.  Through the years, I have read a chapter here and a chapter there, but I have never read the whole book or studied the words.  The time was now.  I talked with my mother-in-law.  She suggested I read along with the daily church schedule.  I liked the thought, but this would take me forever to get through the entire book.  Instead, I went to our local Catholic store.  They ordered a book.  Unfortunately, the book only studies bits and pieces.  I decided to do the study guide, but in between the chapters I would read the chapters they left out.

                While reading the Bible daily, I don’t always connect with the passages.  For the last three readings, the words have danced across the page in beautiful visual poetic style.  I have learned but not connected.  Last night I finally did bond with a chapter.  The section is entitled “Prayer in Time of Illness.”  The other day when I blogged, I talked about the bad day I had due to my illness.  What a fitting psalm for me that I will turn to many times from now on.

                “How long, Lord?  Will you utterly forget me?  How long will you hide your face from me?  How long must I carry sorrow in my soul, grief in my heart day after day?  How long will my enemy triumph over me?” Psalm 13: 2-3.  I want to note the word enemy that is used in this passage.  For me the enemy at the moment is my back pain.  Replace the word with the suffering you have to overcome.  In our dark days of dealing with sickness, loss of a loved one, or any number of struggles/sufferings, we can feel so far away from God.  We call out in pain.  We are lost and alone.  I can relate to this feeling just like I felt it earlier this week. 

                We need to keep talking to God though he seems hidden.  “Look upon me, answer me, Lord, my God!  Give light to my eyes lest I sleep in death, lest my enemy say, ‘I have prevailed,’ lest my foes rejoice at my downfall” verses 4-5.  Keep the dialog open with Him.  I know it demands His attention and sounds like a two-year-old; yet, God knows we feel this way why not give voice to our feelings.  I have prayed like this many times.  “I need help NOW God.”  “I want you here NOW.”  I know; who am I to be so insistent?  I am His daughter.  Instead of waiting around feeling sorry for myself, I am going to take action.  “Look upon me, answer me, Lord, my God!”  This is heartfelt.

                Verse 6 wraps up the prayer.  “I trust in your faithfulness.  Grant my heart joy in your help, that I may sing of the Lord, ‘How good our God has been to me!’”  Notice, the illness hasn’t been removed.  In fact nowhere does the text ask to be cured.  Instead, we are trusting God will stand beside us.  He will show us joy if we are faithful to Him.  He will lift us out of our despair and give us strength to carry on with our job of living which includes suffering here on Earth.  He can show us that there is much to be thankful for.

                Blessings to you all.