Like Coming Home

Yeah, I've said it before:  I kinda love Mississippi.  A lot of folks from "away" don't get that but the people who make up those tourist slogans seem to--I always like the one that says, "Mississippi, it's like Coming Home."  Yeah, you're right, sure enough is.

And I was thinking about that while I was standing outside the local grocery store this morning.  An elderly lady and I were talking for half an hour or so--about Jesus, about life in general, and about various incidents in particular.  She told me about how she stopped a man from killing his wife; I told her about the man who bullied me so dreadfully at the pawn shop.  Have I ever met her before?  No.  But when we parted, she said, "Honey, I hope to see you again."  And I said, "I look forward to that--if not here, then surely in heaven." 

She said something else, too, in the middle of the conversation.  She said that I was beautiful.  I was surprised, and I said, "Oh thank you, ma'am, but truly I don't think so."  Later, she said it again.    Maybe I needed to hear that this morning.  I believe, after all, that God sends people to meet us right when we need them.  Honestly, I sometimes fret about things my mother often said--unkind, hurtful things that I don't need to repeat.  Doesn't matter how old you get, I guess you need somebody's mama to tell you you're pretty.  My mother didn't.

I was actually feeling particularly moth-eaten this morning.  I had just washed my hair so the humidity had turned it into a giant Irish mane of fluff.  I had been pet-sitting and was wearing a dark blue hooded sweatshirt that showed ever furry little cat hair.  Broken shoes.  Ratty old jeans.  I hadn't planned on going to the grocery at all but I need to bake bread, so I made a split second decision to go spend my last $20 for milk, butter, and eggs for breadmaking.

Maybe God knew that I just really needed to meet Minnie outside the store by the cart rack.  She's black; I'm white.  But I know real family when I meet them.  I kinda love Mississippi.  It's like coming home.

Life is good. 


.....the azaleas in the wood at the corner of my neighbor's acreage this morning: