Living the questions and trying to think theologically... and practically. Learning that these things are more synonymous than I once thought.

Location: Dallas, TX

Saturday, October 23, 2004

There and back again, a country girls' tale

I wrote this when I was in my real home. I'm back in Waco now, and this has been my first opportunity to publish it.

I can’t tell you how good it’s been to be back in Mississippi. A free trip home for fall break was just the ticket. Of course, it means I had to miss class and I’m getting even further behind on school work, but I wouldn’t trade this visit for a 4.0.

Allison and Ashley are just as frisky as ever. They picked me up at the airport, and we’ve been keeping them for the past two days while my sister and brother-in-law are out of town. We’ve been helping them with homework, giving them baths, and putting them to bed. Their big thing right now is stories. Ever time you turn around, they want you to tell them a story from when you were a kid or a Harry Potter story or a snake story, etc, etc. They were really rough tonight, and they wallowed around all over me. I’ll probably be sore tomorrow. I forgot how much they wear me out, but they are very loving children in spite of their rambunctiousness.

Sunday, I went to my home church for the first time in what seems like forever. I cried most of the time. Not because of anything spiritually stirring from the songs or sermon. When I sat down in the pew I realized I got more hugs in the five minutes that I walked into the doors of that church than I had in the past five months in Waco. There is something about the south that makes people not afraid to hug.

I always griped and complained about getting the hell out of Mississippi, or especially Kossuth. This is the first time home I’ve realized the value of a place like this, and how much I really love it. I had forgotten what it is like to walk through Wal-Mart and see someone you know every time you turn the corner of a new isle. I never realized the familiarity of living in a place where people have known each other all their lives. Things that happen in places like Kossuth may not be important to the rest of the world, but there’s something about being there that makes you feel like you really are important to the people in that community. That’s something I think we could all use no matter who or where we are.


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