It's been an adventuresome 48 hours.
As I write, I am sitting in the Jefferson City cemetery flicking ants off my legs and listening to the hum of traffic at the bottom of the hill. For those of you who don't know: I enjoy exploring cemeteries. Something about the mossy stones and quietly growing trees evokes a calm and peaceful atmosphere. I like to think of the lives behind each chiseled name and how each one touched the world. I call it my "wistful appreciation for the past."
Anyways, my adventures started yesterday at 11:28 am when the hail storm struck my country home. Large hail stones the size of golf balls bounced along the ground like popcorn and rain came down in boatloads. It was a thrilling display of God's power; Retta and I watched from the refuge of the porch. After the wrathful storm subsided, I hopped into the trusty car and journeyed to Springfield for a visit with my favorite little Ozarkian family. My niece Margaret had a cello recital in the most delightful stone chapel (or "castle" as William promptly labeled it). She walked bravely to the stage with her hair in a French braid and flowing ribbons at her waist. Familiar strains of "Go Tell Aunt Rhody" and "Allegretto" filled the room and made everyone smile with gladness. Music is a universal language and when it is shared so willingly and sweetly it becomes a language of blessing and beauty. The evening concluded with orange sherbet and William's customary barrage of questions - (this time concerning diabetes). Amelia and Susannah sang "The Man in the Moon" with me and Harriet entertained us with her 1 year old antics.
The next morning Elissa made scrambled eggs and cinnamon rolls for breakfast. (YUM!). The perfect way to start a Wednesday. I helped with the chores (i.e. watched Susannah collect the eggs with meticulous care + listen to Amelia's instructions for soaking beet pulp) before saying goodbye. The whole trip was a success -- thank you Elissa for the visit -- I loved getting the chance to see you all!
Voyaging home was an adventure within itself. For an hour I sang full blast along to The Lumineers, Zac Brown, Josh Turner and O.A.R. (Yes. I know I have the most eclectic taste in music. Don't judge.) Then, my thoughts distracted me. I reflected on the war veteran who made small talk with me at the gas pump and what kind person his wife might be. That segued into long horned cattle (there were some on the side of the road) and how hard it must be to balance so much weight on their heads. And then my heart simply swelled with gladness at the rolling Ozark hills and green pastures strewn with horses!
That's when I realized I was lost.
Google Maps didn't help (there was no cell phone reception), and a rusted sign told me the nearest town was 19 miles away. Good thing incidents like "getting lost" don't worry me too much -- I kept driving this way and that till I got to I-44 heading towards Rolla. How could I worry? The music was loud, the sky was blue and the sun roof was down. I got home eventually.
Now I am chilling out in a graveyard.
There is no one here but me, even though I am surrounded on all sides by the bustling activity of Jefferson City. This tranquil little world within a world is my new secret place. (Sometimes the most secret things are the most obvious.) I shall be making frequent visits to write about my adventures.
