Each time we go to the beach, we find little tidbits to pick up.  Agate, Petrified Wood, Shell, Rock, Driftwood etc. The trouble comes with where to put it? I have tried to choose one collection pocket, but I’m too dim to remember which is which. So I end up with sand in the cell phone, the camera, my keys and wallet. Sigh.  For the past two months we have been collecting Peanut Butter Jars and Mayonnaise Jars. I’ve had ideas swirling in my brain of how to create the contraption, to not loose a lid, to hang around the shoulders, to have a good rope, to be hand held if needed. So far, I haven’t been successful in perfect design.  THEN LAST NIGHT – I found a blog with an example of how to attach the lid.  Oh. My. You might say. Solved world hunger? Well. No . . . but it if you saw or listened through hearing me explain my ideas, you’d probably get the same look that my hubby gets . . . . Sometimes the simple solution and I don’t really meet at first.  So – thanks to Plum Pudding’s Site, I found the perfect solution to the lost lid!  The boys and I created 3 of these last night.

 
The boys made a commercial, which they have not granted me permission to post as of yet, and instead of calling it a simple rock jar, they settled on The Great Whatchamacallit, because, in their words, “its funnier”.  So there ya have it. Funny, In a Peanut Butter Jar.

Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a merchant in search of fine pearls, who, on finding one pearl of great value, went and sold all that he had and bought it (Matthew 13:45-46)

It is not hard for me to analyze myself and find out what I treasure. All I have to do is look to see what I spend most of my time doing. What I choose to do when I have free time says much about what my heart treasures as valuable or worth doing. If I spend my time involved in things that do not edify me, edify others; if I spend my time chasing after worldly entertainment or affirmation; if I spend my time idly or in disregard of that which truly has value, then what does this say about me and the condition of my heart?

But be careful! Chasing after Christ as your treasure based solely upon considering it a rule of measure is dangerous, indeed. After all, do you want to be loved by your parents because they have to love you? Do you crave the attention and love of a friend because they have to do so, or because they deeply desire to do so? Do you love others because you have to or because you desire to? Christ is to be loved because we desire to love Him and not because we have to love Him. Loving Him in any other manner deserves careful consideration.

Consider the pearl in our parable. Is the pearl the ultimate prize? To what is the pearl compared to? It is compared to the kingdom of heaven. But Who is King of the kingdom? And isn’t He of far more value then the pearl itself? So, if the merchant finds this great pearl and then sells all that he has to buy it, to what length would the merchant go were he to meet the actual giver of the pearl? This would be of far greater value than even the pearl.

Christ has freed us from death. No longer are we slaves of unrighteousness, wandering in blindness, destined for eternal separation from an everlasting joy as we experience an unending relationship with God in heaven. We are His! God qualified us to be children, delivered us from the domain of darkness and transferred us into the kingdom of His Son, Christ (Colossians 1:12-13). Do you know this? Do you know this in the depths of your heart so that it alters who you are when you are alone?

Questions:

1. What would you say you treasure based upon what you spend most of your time doing?
2. Have you ever experienced the danger of loving because you have to love, not because you desire to love?
3. Have you ever experienced being loved out of obligation rather than want?
4. What can you do to learn to desire to love Christ more and more so that He becomes more valuable than anything else?
5. In what ways would accountability help you accomplish this?
6. In what ways would disciplines help you accomplish this?

images: top, via adrawingdiary.blogspot; middle, me in boise: bottom, via kiosk

these guys mean it and so do i. running is serious business. an ode to the activity because it made me feel like a million bucks today. thanks, running. seriously.

What gems are you putting into your Life’s Treasure Box?

Are you are collecting the type of gems that cannot be washed away in a life storm or stolen by a thief.  I am talking about Family, Virtues, Love, Worthiness, Trust, Integrity, Hope, and Loyalty to correct principles as being the type of gems that cannot be taken from us. I have collected these type of gems myself, and I hope you are presently collecting them as well. Otherwise, anything else can be lost and leave you feeling empty and without value.

I ask this question because many of us in these times spend a lot of time collecting the wrong type of gems and when things go bad and we lose our job, our home, our cars, and all the stuff we’ve collected in our lives that we believe gives us worth and value, then we feel destroyed and want to run away from our life or some commit suicide…all because they lost material things that don’t really matter.

Do you know people like this? Are you a person like this? Are you happy now but are afraid of what your life would be like if you lost all that you have now and your standing in society? Do you believe that you will lose your friends and family if you lose your income and prestige that you have now? If you feel any of these feelings then you need to start collecting other treasure right now that will be there no matter what happens to your job and your income.

I learned this hard lesson when I lost my own job several years back. I was getting bill collector calls right and left and I was unable to get another job. I was out of work for a year and my husband was nagging me about getting a job. He did not appreciate that I had been going out on 25 job interviews in that week alone, and he didn’t care because he wanted me working and bringing in income. I was anxious to get a job too because I had bill collectors calling me day and night.

One day something clicked in my mind and I realized all that I had didn’t matter. The phone calls didn’t matter. I realized that nothing mattered but my family and the life that I had right then. I was happy for the first time in a long time and I didn’t care if I got a job or not. When that change in mindset occurred, I found a change in myself, my daughter, and my husband. And then I got an job. Within a month of working, I noticed my relationships changed with my family and I was no longer happy.

You can do what you want, and you can derive what you want from this report, but whatever you decide is relevant, I hope you will at least try to collect the gems in this life that really bring you happiness and joy. Peace of mind comes when you are satisfied with your life, and that my friend is worth more than any treasure you can find on earth.

just because they are fairly amazing creatures that hang out near me these days. i bet this one survived the attack by the falcon.

lucia nogueira, brazilian-born artist, died at age 48 in 1998

patterns in metal, via: butdoesitfloat

One day early in the autumn of the year I was nine, a padlock appeared on our basement door and we kids were told that until further notice, we couldn’t go down there anymore.

The first reason this was odd was that we only ever went to the basement when we were yelled at repeatedly to go down there and fetch something. There was nothing appealing down there for a child. It was an old farmhouse basement. It was dark and smelly and often featured resident mice and even, on occasion, a rat or two.

The second reason this was odd was that several evenings a week after supper, my father would go into the basement and bolt the door from the inside. And then he’d stay down there until after we went to sleep.

The younger kids were too young and self-absorbed to worry about this new development. I, however, being the eldest and incredibly wise[1] was eaten up with curiosity. First I tried clever ruses to try and trick my mother into telling me what was going on.

“What’s Papa doing in the basement all the time?”

“None of your business.”

“Aw, tell me.”

“No.”

“Pleeeeaaaaasseeeee?”

“No.”

Drat! She was too clever for me.

So then I tried ever-so-casually to hang around the basement door and listen for clues. My mother, wielding a wooden spoon menacingly, ordered me away from the door.

But, one afternoon my mother told me to go into the basement and get a couple jars of cherries from the cold storage. I was on the verge of peeing my pants with excitement, hopping up and down, waiting for her to unlock the door, when she rememberd I wasn’t allowed down there anymore. So she got the cherries herself. And I had to leave the room so I wouldn’t see where she kept the padlock key. Very frustrating.

But at least I now knew the key was hidden somewhere in the kitchen! Aha!

For a while I was an incredibly helpful child, offering to put away dishes, sweep the floor, organize the pantry. I  frisk my mother under cover of pretending to hug her. I never found the key.

Fall turned into winter and then the Christmas madness started and I was distracted from the mysterious goings on in the padlocked basement – at least during waking hours. But when I went to bed, before I went to sleep and again first thing in the morning, before I had to crawl out of my warm duvet, my little brain feverishly imagined all sorts of outlandish possibilities for what could be going on down there.

And then it was Christmas.

And there under the tree, instead of colourfully wrapped gifts were five wooden boxes; each almost two feet long and one foot wide; each sporting padlocks of their own; each with the name of one of us kids painted on the lid.

There were gifts inside the boxes and the little kids dove right in and went mental over their toys, as kids are wont to do. But I was too overwhelmed at the idea that I now owned a little footlocker.

When you’re a young girl of almost ten, in a house full of unruly little kids, everything you own is up for grabs. Nothing is truly yours because at any moment one of the kids and/or their grubby little friends can get hold of it and mess it up or wreck it. Because that’s what kids do.

With these thoughts tumbling through my brain, I burst into tears.

 “What’s wrong with her now?”

“How should I know?”

“Hey you!” ( What’s the oldest one’s name again?) ”Aren’t you going to open your present?”

Would it be too Hallmark hokey to tell you that somewhere around this point I threw myself into my father and wept mucusy thanks all over his shirt? Because while the other kids thought Santa had brought all this great stuff, I, never having been a Santa believer, suddenly realized that this is what my Dad had been doing in the basement all those weeks – making these boxes.[2]

 ”Ya, ya,”my dad said and pushed me off him. “Go see what’s in the box.”

I don’t remember what was in the box.

The other kids used their boxes for a few years to store things; or to jump up and down on; or  as race cars — pushing each other around their bedrooms; or as footstools to reach high things. Eventually, their boxes were destroyed because, like I told you, that’s what kids do.

But I treasured mine. I locked away all my special things in there; all my private things. And it travelled with me when I moved away from home and has travelled with me ever since – always keeping my special things safe.

Of all the gifts I wished for Christmas as a kid and all the gifts my mother made herself crazy trying to find for us for Christmas – this is the best gift I ever got.[3]

I love that word.  And I actually even like the movie with John Cusack and Kate Beckinsale of the same name.  Webster’s defines the word as the faculty or phenomenon of valuable or finding agreeable things not sought for.  In other words discovering the unexpected treasures in our lives.  It can be as simple as scoring rock star parking in front of a crowded restaurant, having a lunch meeting turn a relationship from one of business to one of friendship or even rediscovering an old photo you’d forgotten about.  Taking the time to relish in the discovery and recognize it for what it is, a gift.  All to often, we just scootch into the parking spot without a thought, part company at the door without a backward glance or chuck the photo in a drawer.  If we could just slow down a bit and see the smile on a stranger’s face, hear the laughter of a child, feel the warmth of the sun on our face on a cold winter’s day, think how much better our lives would be.  We exist on a semi-conscious auto pilot for most of our waking hours, mostly out of necessity to get through our complicated lives.  Rushing here and there, checking off to-do’s when we know there will be another daunting list to be accomplished tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow.

The old cliche says to stop and smell the roses.  I think it’s to become aware of the gifts serendipity brings to our life and not take them for granted.

HAIKU

Sleepy maple trees

dropping crisp scarlet treasures

fall’s jeweled carpet

12/11/99 Phyllis DeWitt-VanVleck

- Time to examine your priorities.

Written by Matt Wegner Founder and Lead Counselor, Matt Wegner Financial Coaching, www.mattwegnercoaching.com

“For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”  (Matthew 6:21)   It’s been said that you can learn a lot about someone by looking through their trash.  I don’t think you have to go to such extent. It’s pretty easy to see where someone’s heart is by simply looking at their belongings.  Do you have that neighbor that spends all his time waxing his three sports cars every weekend?  Do you know someone that’s spent more on his bass boat than his retirement plan?  How about the hunting enthusiast who has every weapon, tool or gadget known to man but can’t keep his lights on because he is late on his payments?  Or the sister-in-law who has enough shoes and clothes to outfit a small army but doesn’t have enough spare change to drop a few coins in the red kettle at Christmas time?  Where do you think their heart is?  It’s pretty obvious their heart is in their earthly treasures.

There is absolutely nothing wrong with following your passions and dreams to have a good balance in life.  I want you to have the things that make you happy.  But the keys here are balance and defining happiness.    Let’s define happiness for a moment.  You can’t buy happiness.  You can buy a lot of fun, but there’s always that burning desire for more, for something bigger and better.  More money or more “stuff” won’t get you the long-lasting happiness that everyone seeks. The happiest people don’t have everything they want.  They want everything they have.
Now bring in the balance.  We are constantly making excuses for lack of action in different areas of our lives.  I often hear that we just don’t have time to sit down and do a budget together, or to track our spending, or to work out, or, or, or.  But more often than not the truth is that we have plenty of time.  We just don’t use that time wisely.  Think about how much time you spend watching television or talking on the phone?  What if you spent that much time and energy on your finances or your family?  Now there’s an idea.  Think of all the things you could accomplish if you turn off the t.v. one or two hours a week.  Finding a good balance in your life comes from examining your priorities and deciding what is truly important, then living according to those priorities.

If you’re not sure where your priorities are, look at your check register and see where your money is going.  Your treasures will be stick out like a sore thumb if you take a step back and look at it objectively. This Christmas, take some time to examine where your treasures are and ask yourself if your heart is in the right place. When your heart changes to the right place, the right treasures are not far behind.

- Matt Wegner

Matt Wegner is a personal finance, career, small business and leadership coach focused on teaching his clients the tools for L.I.F.E. (Living In Financial Excellence).  Learn more about Matt at www.mattwegnercoaching.com

Treasures are funny things.
Sometimes they’re buried where you’ll never find them.
Sometimes they’re hidden right in front of you.
Sometimes they fall into your lap,
Or walk into your life when you least expect them,
And you’re really not sure what to do,
Because they seem too good to be true.
But if you run across a treasure that’s good for you,
Figure out a way to keep it, even if you don’t think you can,
Because if you don’t, you’ll always wonder whether you’ll ever find another.
© 2009

Four years after it first went on display, the Pushkin Museum has put its hoard of Trojan gold back on show. Unearthed in 1873 by German archaeologist Heinrich Schliemann, it was confiscated by Soviet troops in 1945 and remained hidden for more than 50 years in the Pushkin Museum. More than 2000 pieces are on display, including golden pendants, earrings and hair ornaments. The works remain a bone of contention between Russia and Germany, which wants the treasures returned.

The Treasures of Montezuma 2 (57 MB download)
Return to the jungle in this amazing match-three adventure. Power-up totems and unleash special powers by making multiple matches of the same colored token. Then rack up a high score by activating Score Frenzy with a series of insanely fast matches. Finally, unlock trophies for performing amazing feats as you try to collect all of the gems on each level before time runs out. More levels, more challenges…more fun!

It just goes to show -  that ya never know what you’ll find during a walk on the beach.

It was high tide, the waves were up to the sea wall in spots, and we needed to wear out the pup on a half hour walk before our expected company arrived.

The whole family danced with fancy footwork on the rocks to escape the tragedy of wet tennis shoes.

Suddenly, Nate ran out to the water and then back screaming and wailing,  “A Blue Agate. A Blue Agate, I found a Blue Agate!”. I thought he was making it up and would hold up a piece of hard blue plastic smoothed by the waves, but low and behold it was a huge blue geode!

Does it only come to rock hounds? The sure and utter joy of discovery? The overwhelming joy for those who find a rare item?  He said that only the tip was out of the sand, and that he thought it was just a sugar agate but something sparkled on it and he was curious, then went to the water to wash it off and came unglued with excitement.

Trying to show how the light shows through.
Measures 6.5 mm /2.5 inches from widest points long,
26mm/1.75 inches tall.

Here is another find from about 2 weeks ago in the same area, we are not sure what it is, but it sure glistens in the sun!

Could this be a black banded agate?
This is about 3 inches long, 1.75 inches wide.

If you know anything about agates and have any tips of identification, let us know!  We went to Bob’s Books in Lincoln City yesterday to pick up a great Agate book.   It was just over $5.00.  We want to get down to the Facet’s Shop in Newport to have them look at the geode.  We are really enjoying looking for the Agates in the Central Oregon Coast – I can’t wait to see what the ocean churns up as the storms move here for the winter!

winter fashion inspiration 1979, via, englishrussia.com

The morning winds of the Upper Cumberland’s are brisk and chilly this beautiful, sunny day.  As I sit with my coffee staring out between thoughts at the tall grasses and bushes outside my window, I can see the blue of the sky, ocean like except for the whitened clouds that smear across its canvas from time to time. 

My breakfast of oatmeal and a snack later of yogurt, brought my stomach back to a yearning for my past Saturday ’s “cheat day”, I could almost make out a whimper from deep within, a crying out for the delectable dining I did just a few days back.  I allow myself one cheat day a week, so I have something to look forward to besides my stern diet throughout the week.

My cheat day began after my Saturday’s greeting and farewell to the 278th.  I felt a nudge of hunger as I had skipped my morning breakfast and it was now well into lunch.  There is nothing more than I enjoy than traveling the roads of Tennessee, in particular the Upper Cumberland’s, in search of activities, community events and those ever precious diners and restaurants that dot the way.

As the road stretched ahead of us on Highway 127 leaving Jamestown toward Crossville, I recalled an interesting antique and more arena called the “Cumberland Mountain General Store”.  Alone, this store deserves a stop by whenever you travel through Clarkrange.  A mom and pop shop of such variety that I cannot begin to tell you of all its wares in true justice, but let me say that from deliciously scented soaps, to candles, to novelties and oddities, to antiques, you will enjoy your walk-through as there is always something for nearly everyone’s pocket-book.  Located at: 6807 South York Highway (Highway 127) , you’ll find the store just North of Highway 62, and just a mere fifteen miles North of Interstate 40 in Crossville.  For you antique lovers, there is much to love and admire, for those looking for homemade, local wares, it’s a place to stop and shop!  One trick here, though the hours are 10-5 daily from May through December, it is always best to call before making a special trip, as though the business is of utmost importance to these wonderful owners, their family is where their heart is and they may be out taking care of their needs.  Feel free to call Ron and Lana at:  931-863-3880, but do not forget to tell them Tennessee Treasures sent you over, I don’t get a kick-back, but I want them to know we’re looking out for them and all these great businesses in our communities!

But, back to my stomach grumblings, shall we? 

There, almost hidden in the back, by one door separating the two shops, is a delightful 50’s Soda Shop, furnished with the cafe style setting of the 50’s and the great hard ice cream milkshakes that cannot be beat in my book!  From Cappuccino to Pumpkin, there are always a variety of milkshake venues that keep you drooling. 

As usual, though, I ordered their $5.50 diner hamburger and old-fashioned fries lunch special –which you just can’t beat in taste and cost at any fast food burger and fries that I’ve found thus far.  I add the cheese to the cheeseburger for just a bit more, and sit at the cafe counter just counting the minutes; which surprisingly, is few, never too long a wait to experience the large portioned burger and fries! 

While waiting, I took in the ambience of the diner’s fifties charm, and though I wasn’t born until the 60’s (you needn’t do the math, I am forty-eight), I felt like any minute Ward, June, Wally and the Beav, would come through the door and be greeted by the smiles of the owners and servers.  There is even a door leading to some tables outside, but this December day proved to be a bit nippy to venture that direction. 

Normally, the cafe closes in December, I believe, so again, a good idea to call and check on hours and days open.  From what I’ve gathered, they seem to be open seasonally for lunch from 11:00 a.m. to 2:00 p.m., Wednesday through ,and from 11:00 a.m. to 4:00 p.m. Saturday and Sunday.  We visited on December 5th  and were happy to see the rockin’ diner open, so it is possible they have extended their hours, so hurry before you have to wait until May!

As we gathered up our cheeseburgers and fries, we sauntered over to the condiment stand, where you can make up your burger anyway you like it, from sweet pickles to dill, from mayo to tomatoes, it was all there!  I just could not wait to bite into the burger and dip my fries in some ketchup! 

We were not disappointed!  The burger was perfectly done, and not these frozen pre-cooked concoctions, but a juicy, tantalizing burger with creamy cheese and all the fixings I could pile on top!  Although I devoured my burger and most of my fries, I always have fries left over, the helpings are so large.  The nicest thing about this is many times new diners open and they lure you in with low prices and large portions, but after a few months of getting known as such, they will cut back on the portions and raise the prices –not such at Rock-A-Billy’s!  From this past spring to winter, the portions were large, the taste fabulous and the price well worth it!

So, the last question you may have is…”Was it worth the calories?”  Darn tootin’!  I like to eat healthy as I can, but I do not deny myself a tempting burger from time to time, and if I am going to do it, I am going to do it RIGHT!  So, Rock-A-Billy Cafe is definitely on my list of burger places to stop at when the craving hits and I have the extra calories to splurge on!  We often try to time it after coming back from a long hike at one of the beautiful parks in Fentress, Scott, or Pickett, that way though it is my “cheat day”, I feel better about burning some of it off!  But, mind you, there are many choices at Rock-A-Billy Cafe other than what I chose to devour, so I encourage you to stop in and see for yourself, even if you just have a hankering for a mouth-watering shake or a pleasing piece of pie, you won’t be disappointed you did!  A definite taste of a Tennessee Treasure!

So, back to the reality of the day as I sit finishing up the rest of my yogurt, it doesn’t taste anything like a cheeseburger, but it will have to do.  It is time for me to bid farewell to my Tennessee friends until tomorrow.  I hope you have a blessed day and I encourage you to share with me your Tennessee Treasures, I would love to experience them and share them with others on this blog.

-K

Rock-a-Billy Cafe
6807 South York Hwy
Clarkrange, TN 38553
931 863-3880
http://www.cumberlandmountaingeneralstore.com/

The Treasures of Montezuma 2 (57 MB download)
Return to the jungle in this amazing match-three adventure. Power-up totems and unleash special powers by making multiple matches of the same colored token. Then rack up a high score by activating Score Frenzy with a series of insanely fast matches. Finally, unlock trophies for performing amazing feats as you try to collect all of the gems on each level before time runs out. More levels, more challenges…more fun!

¡La vida no se trata de cómo sobrevivir a una tempestad, sino cómo bailar bajo la lluvia!

The crisp morning air filled my senses as I walked into the dawn of another misty Tennessee winter morning.  I envisioned all of you waking and doing the same as day took over the night. 

The season is filled with so many changes.  The leaves from the colorful trees of fall have now finally left us, and lie on the ground as if tired from a long summer’s flight.  Bare, they seem to stare as if to say, “Forgive us our nakedness, but it is time to rest.” 

The hills and mountains darker now, much like a shadow has swallowed them, or a painter’s pallet has run out of color.  The streets empty of as many walkers, the yards empty of children’s laughter.  The birds are quieter, though on warmer days they sing praises in joyful serenades.

The air we breathe seems to have been run through an air purifier in the winter’s calm as it fills our lungs with each inhale.  Besides just the fact it is cooler, it seems a much different air than the summer’s air before it.  Each morning it varies; some almost stinging the nostrils as you inhale your first morning’s breath.  Some, only a gentle stirring of the olfactories, just enough to wake you up and have you searching for a warm cup of coffee.

This past weekend we were blessed to have woken to a beautiful covering –inches of white, playful snow.  As I had pulled back my covers, I knew immediately the air in the room was different, -a quick run to the window, it has snowed- type of coolness surrounded me.  I believe the winter’s snow was frantically calling out to the child  within me, “Hurry, come!  Look!  Before long I shall be gone, so be quick, it is time to play!”. 

Indeed, as I pulled back my blinds, my still tired eyes woke immediately to the brilliance of millions of sparkles that lie in wait, to be found by all awakening, joyful flakes still falling, landing gently, asking to stay awhile.

I quickly dressed, put on a pot of my favorite caramel mocha organic coffee, and then stepped outside my door to experience more of this fleetingly scarce, Tennessee Treasure.  The quiet yet about, gave me reason to believe that others were aware of the surprise inches that had fallen and chose to stay tucked in their covers or as I, were watching in awe the beautiful scene so different from the one I had closed my eyes upon the evening before.

Rrrunnnrrrurrrhhnn…ruuuunnnnrrruuhhhnnn…ruuunnnhhhnnn….a noise like no other would not escape my ears.  Looking about I had tried to place what this constant sound was that broke the silence of my drifting thoughts. 

There!  In the far corner, an empty parking lot lie glazed in frozen waters and atop was a black truck spinning, round and round and round.  Harmless in the early morning stillness, it made donut shapes for nearly five minutes –someone’s inner child was most definitely being released unto the icy field beneath!  I had to laugh to myself as it did look like a bit of fun, though I am sure the State Troopers office just on the other side may have thought different of this daring escapade, as may others, but it was the child in me that found it spontaneously daring.  Still wrapped in my morning robe, I continued to poke my head out, but I think the driver spied me and thought I may be more concerned about reporting him than admiring his continual spin, and with his next circle, he slowly stopped and went on his way, leaving me to the silence once more, of the falling snow.

After a bit, life returned to the area and people started to come out and remove the snow off of their vehicles.  Some, with looks of a child upon their faces as they impulsively gathered up a snowballs and threw them at whoever was in their path.  Some, simply looked annoyed, grimacing at the extra time it would take to rid themselves of the flakes gathered upon their vehicle as well as the anticipated slower drive to wherever they may be going, would dare to make them a few minutes late.

As I had watched from my window, where I will write to you each day, it was to me a joyful time as I allowed memories of childhood to engulf me and bring me to a place where you had to worry more about eating yellow snow than snow consisting of new atmospheric impurities.  Where you could bundle up in your five layers of clothes and play for hours in your yard while mom did her housework and prepared hot cocoa, her mind never wandering to thoughts of child predators snatching you away.  A place in time where life seemed so much simpler, not as complex, not so many people offended and less people offending.  Where the percentage of divorce was not higher than most people’s shoe size. 

For just a few moments, I had let myself drift back to a place of catching snowflakes on the tip of my tongue while others fell upon my eyelashes.  A place of building snowmen that looked like Frosty, and snowball fights that inevitably involved hitting a traveling car and angry drivers threatening you with police and parents.  Memories of trying to pull the very biggest of icicles off the roofline, only to end up in the emergency room with a concussion, because you MUST not stand under them while you pull them down, as they hurt terribly when they land on your head.  Memories of jumping off those same roofs into the thick snow beneath or getting inner tubes and climbing up and sliding down, the most treacherous of hills, over and over until you could not feel your fingers and toes, so cold were they.

I allow myself those moments to take in what is before me rather than walk through it without notice.  I didn’t used to do this.  I used to rush through life as if there was a fire beneath my bottom.  No more.  I missed too much that way and I didn’t like who I was.  Age came too quick and I’m glad I didn’t wait any longer to attempt to slow it down.  I try to be a better person rather than figuring that everyone else should change.  I don’t always like who I am now, but I am sure to have the time to scold myself, whereas I did not before.

The day did have to go on and my daydreaming did have to cease for a bit for more serious matters at hand.  I put down my empty coffee cup and got dressed, for in a bit the Tennessee National Guard, Troop 278, were to be given a welcoming send-off as they prepared to return to Iraq once again.  I wanted to be there to thank them for being so brave as to go where the comfort of home and loved ones would be far and challenges would be near. 

Whatever the opinion of those standing on our American soil is with regard to war, I feel it is still imperative that we thank those –that by their own choice, by their own strength — leave all that is important to them to defend our land, our freedom, our great America. 

Orignially to be outside, the surprisingly cool, snowy December day, brought the ceremony indoors where a gathering of local officials, politicians –including a stop by U.S. Representative, Lincoln Davis–and loved ones, met to share their support of those heading to battle, and those who were returning to it once again. 

After speeches and awards, it was with great honor that we had the opportunity to stand before each and every soldier of Jamestown’s 278th and shake their hands.  As I did so, I hoped that each of those faces would come to me in prayer every night.  That I would not forget what those brave men looked like.  That I would know them as a member of the community, someone who had grown up enjoying the playfulness of the rare Tennessee snows but were leaving to be sure others had the same opportunities.  That I would remember each of their families that stood with them and for them; the parents, sweethearts, friends, wives, husbands, and children, as they hugged them, tears fell and left stains of love and prayer upon the soldiers jackets. 

As I took each hand in mine, I felt at a loss for words, though I told each to “Take care”, and, “I will keep you in my prayers”, I felt an enormous obligation upon me with each hand shook to honor and treasure this moment, to remember to pray continually for these soldiers and their families, to reach out to them and let them know I care –we care, what happens to them.  I prayed with each touch of their hands that they ALL would return home, unharmed.

I thought about all the other faces of the 278th I would not get to meet as they left to do something that took great courage, leaving behind loving families and friends who also had to carry the courage of their actions.  Many will say these soldiers are “fearless”, but what they do is not without fear.  Make no mistake, these are not men and women that do not have fear within them for the unknown of every day before them –but, it is the strength within them that chooses to drive the fear away from all those they love here in America –for America– we live with their protection surrounding us. 

Though I was able to attend the send-off in Fentress County, communities all around were coming together to send well wishes and thanks this past weekend to the 278th, and most importantly, to let them know we will be here when they return; to support them, to love them, and to welcome them back into our lives with undying thanks. 

It was hard to be there, but it was harder to not be there.  It was a thoughtful day.

On Sunday, after the troops were given a wonderful send-off by all who love them, the snow still clung to the ground, hiding under bushes, cars that hadn’t moved, some roofs, anywhere it could stay for just a while longer.  As the buses pulled away and out of sight, people shared stories with one another of the soldiers leaving, who were once their own little children playing G.I. Joe and were now a part of our country’s honored.  The crowds slowly dispersed, going back to their homes, to their freedom, because of those who left us that day, and who have left us before them.

Later that day, after a brunch of cheesy eggs and bacon with my children and grandsons, I watched out the door as my twenty-three year old son and his girlfriend went to leave.  Proving to be more tempting than he could take, my son stopped to gather up some of the sticky snow that still lingered, his girlfriend following suit.  Together they cheerfully constructed a darling little, mini-snowman atop the hood of my Ford truck.  They laughed and smiled, even while hands became numb with cold, saying what a nice hood ornament I now had.  As they waved goodbye, leaving me with this silly snowman, I counted my blessings tenfold.  I was so thankful that they were both here with me, as well as my other loved ones, and that we were given this wonderful freedom by those that chose to protect us. 

The 278th, are indeed our Tennessee Treasures, as well as all the troops.  Please reach out to them and those in our communities who love them. 

The rain is starting to find its way to the streets as I look out the window and wonder what all of you are doing today.  As the wind blows a song of cold, I wish upon each of you a blessed day.  In this time of hardship and harsh economy, I ask that we all remember what we have….not what we don’t, and give from our hearts each day so that we may bring unexpected joy to another.

I look forward to tomorrow, my Tennessee friends…

-K