I guess I have been quiet because I have not been getting out much. But my youngest daughter and I had quite the spontaneous adventure yesterday. It was a day of strong emotion for me, a day of quick tears. It was unusual for me in that I did not hold back the tears. I enjoyed them, if such a thing is possible.
The quick recap is that we drove by the place where my uncle was killed. It is a shortcut road we have used a lot of times in the past, picturesque and full of curves. I had gotten out of the habit of going that way myself. The last time I had been on that road was when we evacuated for Rita.
We were on our way to visit with a few women I know from working with them every year at a missions based camp for girls from first to sixth grade. I doubt I will be able to work this year, due to my job. I was not able to last year and I missed being there so much. I loved working with those girls.
The camp is doing a major renovation of the tabernacle, and when I went in to see how the inside work was going, I cried. I started coming to that camp the summer after my fifth grade. I worked there as a summer staffer my junior and senior year in high school. As an adult, I have worked the last seven or eight summers in some capacity with the girl's camp. It is a place that is dear to my heart. I liked things the way they were.
But change is a good thing, a necessary thing, a sign of growth. I know all that. Still, I had such a feeling of loss when I first walked into that old familiar place that was stripped bare in preparation for major changes. I'll probably write more about that later.
We left from there and went on to three cemeteries where many of my relatives are buried (and the creek, and a sawmill). We were only planning to hit one of cemetery about thirty miles away from the camp, but my daughter was in the mood to move, so I followed her lead and we drove on up to the other two. We took gobs of pictures, I will post some eventually. While we at the last cemetery, we noticed a tour bus, and then we saw on the church marquis that they were going to have a gospel concert that night at seven. This was around four in the afternoon. I jokingly said we ought to hang around and go, thinking my daughter would surely not be game enough to do that. That is what I get for thinking! She wanted to stay! So, to pass some time, we drove another twenty miles to eat at this really good hole-in-the-wall catfish place. By the time we got done there and back to the little town where the concert was to be held, it was nearly six. We ran into my uncle at the gas station/restaurant/store in town and he was planning on going to the concert too. His wife had worked all day and was going home. We sat and visited with them while they ate and passed the time till time to get back to the church for the concert.
And it was all good.
As the saying goes, no one had to rock me to sleep last night. (And yes, that is me in both pictures, and I deliberately blurred me out a little bit. I don't like pictures of me. My daughter took both of these. Isn't that giant rocking chair cool? It is at the camp, on the porch of the taberacle--last year the taberancle did not have a porch...sigh, change is good, yes. They said the girls last year had a ball climbing on the chair and taking pictures. )