a quote from my favorite movie

I always thought of myself as a house. That was always what I lived in. It didn’t need to be big. It didn’t need to be beautiful. It just needed to be mine. I became what I was meant to be. I built myself a life. I built myself a house.

With every crash of every wave, I hear something now. I never listened before. I’m on the edge of a cliff. Listening. Almost finished.

If you were a house, Sam, this is where you would want to be built. On a rock, facing the sea, listening. Listening.

a letter unwritten

You know how sometimes you just get into one of those moods? It’s been a long day, but a whirlwind at the same time. A lot was expected of you. A million conversations were had. Not only is your body fatigued, but you also can’t get your mind to stop working long enough to sleep. That’s how I feel tonight. I left BSF early (before the lecture) because I was fairly certain I would fall asleep while the poor substitute leader was talking. I walked into the night that had once been rainy. The ground was still wet and drops remained on my car. Rain always sends me into a nostalgic, pensive state. Last year, I often found myself thinking of you on those Mondays after deep discussions on Romans. Not much has changed. The discussions now revolve around Matthew, but often the thought of you still exists as I saunter from the church door to my car.

During that short walk tonight, I was especially pensive. Rain often does that to me. Tiredness contributes to that. Tonight I picked up my phone to call, but you were not there. Of course, I didn’t really try to call. That would have been silly as you would not have been, will not be, at the other end.

I’ve got some direction for my life. I want to share it with you. I want to know what you think. If I could get on a place…or just call you. To hear the sound of your voice…I miss your voice.
I’m floating into a dream-filled state now. Maybe I will see you there. Maybe that will satisfy the part of me that longs for you. But it will only be temporary. Monday will come again, and it might even be raining.

My grandparents live in a wonderfully beautiful place. There is a massive lake in their back yard (1800 shoreline miles, 95 water miles) complete with hummingbirds, spiders that actually aren't creepy, bats, fish that jump out of the water just as the pinks of sunset are appearing (or disappearing) behind the trees of the cliff.

A friend and I spent the weekend in this little piece of heaven. We rode the jet skies, took in the beauty, had good conversation with my grandparents, and ate a lot...at Maxine's and Charley's. The one thing about this place is that when you step off of my grandparent's property, you step into a very odd world...that of southern Missouri.

One evening, we went to dinner at Charley's. It takes about a 1/2 hour to get there from my grandparent's house. It is so much in the middle of nowhere that we even took a gravel road. Now you would not think that with it being in the middle of nowhere that it would get any business. Let me tell you we arrived there at 4:25 for the 4:30 opening...and we ended up in line...the part of the line that had curved AROUND the side of the building. After eating at Charley's, one can understand why. His food is a spread of comfort for the "homegrown" soul.

After eating at Charley's we decided to take a drive to the old cabin. Along the way, Grandma was reminded of a new restaurant in the area that she had heard of. The name? Bucknaked. The billboard we passed had a picture of a buck (for those of you city folk, a buck is a male deer), however, when we found the restaurant it was a naked man that graced the sign. We made some observations and had a few giggles, then made our way up from the lakeside restaurant to the main road via a gravel road named "Washed Out Road." Can you imagine the address? Can you deliver that pizza to 223457 Washed Out Road? HA. I was silently pondering this as we crept up the hill when my attention was drawn to something white hanging on the trees. In the forest, white is easy to see amongst the browns and greens. It had caught my too late, but I caught enough of a picture of it to realize it was underwear! As I was saying "Did you see that underwear in the tree?" it came to my attention that there was underwear, particularly women's, hanging ALL OVER! We drove by a green pair that bore the words "Hot Tomato Eve" and a red pair that said "Sizzling Sue." Seriously?!

That is some kind of messed up fairyland...where there is also a restaurant called "The Cow Pattie."

hollywood portrait of a small town

Preface:
In a previous blog entry, I believe I mentioned the fact that I feel as though I'm always blogging in my head...their's a narrator that lives up there...and I can hear her speaking as I go throughout life. I just fail to share this with the general public (which is probably OK). I've been dying to get this blog out, but have been waiting for the roll in my camera to be developed because it is much better with visual aids. But first, let me put on my hat...the one that takes me back into the small town frame of mind...
okay that's much better...
now for the REAL blog entry...






When Hollywood wants to portray a small town, what do they usually show you? They open with THE stoplight ticking...dust blowing across the deserted street. The motel that only has six rooms. Pick-up trucks and cowboy boots...country music....a least one ruggedly hot man with an accent. Being an expert in growing up in small towns, I can vouch that many of these are true (I should specify that my experience is just in rural Midwest). Granted our small town tried to keep buildings up, the cowboy boots were minimal..at least on my feet..and I'm not sure that there were ever an ruggedly hot men...although there were plenty of daydreams about them. The one thing that Hollywood uses to lure your mind to the small town setting that I never thought I'd see, I saw on my last trip home. Imagine my surprise....
the sign hanging by one chain,
squeakily swinging in the wind...