Life is better off a mystery.

I owe a humongous shout-out to Sara Ferren, my third (?) cousin (who feels much closer, thanks to the beauty and love that was my great-Aunt Mildred, and her great-grandmother).

Sara posted part of these lyrics as her Fbk status tonight. In ways I probably couldn't really articulate to anyone today, I so needed the reminder of this song, and its meaning, and all that it refreshes my heart for when I delve into it.

A video clip of Caedmon's Call's "Faith My Eyes" is here:





And the lyrics to Caedmon's Call's "Faith My Eyes" are here:

As I survey the ground for ants


Looking for a place to sit and read

I'm reminded of the streets of my hometown

How they're much like this concrete that's warm beneath my feet



And how I'm all wrapped up in my mother's face

With a touch of my father just up around the eyes

And the sound of my brother's laugh

But more wrapped up in what binds our ever distant lives



But if I must go

Things I trust will be better off without me

But I don't want to know

Life is better off a mystery



So keep'em coming these lines on the road

And keep me responsible be it a light or heavy load

And keep me guessing with these blessings in disguise

And I'll walk with grace my feet and faith my eyes



Hometown weather is on TV

I imagine the lives of the people living there

And I'm curious if they imagine me

Cause they just wanna leave; I wish that I could stay



And to visit places from my past

But only for an hour or so

Which is long enough to smell the air

To tell the tale and find the door



But I get turned around

I mistake my happiness for blessing

But I'm blessed as the poor

Still I judge success by how I'm dressing



So I'll sing a song of my hometown

I'll breathe the air and walk the streets

Maybe find a place to sit and read

And the ants are welcome company



And I'll walk with grace my feet and faith my eyes

And I'll walk with grace my feet and faith my eyes

This was a favorite of mine in college, and I love that Sara can appreciate and live it as she experiences that stage of life as well. There's never a bad time to make the effort to walk with grace and see with faith.


(This, for the record, is by far not the best or only touching song by Caedmon's Call. Check 'em out. Their lyrics are heartfelt, Scripturally sound, and incredibly pointed.)

And thanks again, Sara.

Joie de vivre.

I've had one of those days that reminded me of the joy of life, and living, and how ridiculously thankful I am for all I have and where I've been -- good and bad.

So this time, I'm listing things my heart is brimming over with thanks for, and I'm not stoppin' at five.

1. My home state. I am in mad love with Mississippi, and the fact that I've had the opportunity to spend so much time in so many parts of it. Faith Hill had it right -- no matter where I am, I'm still (and always will be!) a Mississippi girl. :-)
2. Old friends. There is something to be said for the peeps who know you well, have seen you at your worst, and still love you. I'm overly blessed with the most wonderful friends EVER. How this happened, I have no idea, but I pray to God I don't do anything to mess it up! My peeps are the best peeps.
3. New friends. Meeting new people never gets old! Sometimes I think it's not the best habit of mine (for maintenance reasons and all), but aren't new personalities the best?! It's so cool to learn where others are coming from and to see where they'll go.
4. The past -- all of it. The good, the bad, and the ugly are all part of where and who I am now, and today, I happen to really love where and who I am now. I never thought I would be thankful for some of my ugliest experiences, but I'll be dadgummed if they're not reminding me of how good it feels to feel good today.
5. Cruise control. I would love to hug whoever invented it.
6. Fall colors. I know I don't shut up about this, but I'm all about some fall leaves and colors, and since I don't see much of those in BR (until this week!), it was absolutely breathtaking to drive up through Mississippi and see the vibrant colors. (I guess I would need to be hospitalized if I was actually up north, where real fall occurs.)
7. Stereotypes. I was reminded this weekend that just because I set stereotypes, it doesn't mean they're in stone. That was a good reminder. Sometimes this redhead needs the "refresh" button clicked so she can see things as they are, not just as she imagines they are.
8. A nephew who loves his aunt. There is absolutely nothing in the world that could make my heart fuller than to hear my hilarious nephew's voice trash talking me about football, or commentating on his 5-year-old life like the old soul he is, or incredulously getting excited because he "gets to see" me in only three days.
9. Music. If you know me at all, you know I love it. And there's nothing like ten hours in the car to reminisce on the playlists of your life in every genre! Rock. On. Or country on. Or jazz on. Or...
10. Scripture. It's amazing how, like music, Biblical reminders can pop up just when you need them. I'm thankful to have been raised in a family and church where I was taught Bible verses at a very young age, and that they still stick with me when I need them most.
11. Being a girl. For real. Sometimes I gripe about it, but secretly, I love it. :-)
12. Reminders of Aunt Mildred. I had the sweetest, funniest great-aunt ever, and since she died, I have noticed more and more when things remind me of her. Like good sweet tea. And decorative dish towels. And a new friend's laugh that sounds exactly like it came from Auntie M's kitchen table! Fantastic. I love that a beautiful sound allows me to see her shoulders shake from getting tickled, even though I can no longer give her a hug and kiss.
13. My mother's cornbread dressing, and the fact that I get to eat it this Thursday. No further commentary needed.
14. My family. They are the best of the best, hands-down.

A new friend said something this weekend I've not really heard adults state so frankly:

"Hey. I'm happy."

At the time, I grinned and told him I was glad.

Today I'm there, and can only grin again and think, "Well said. And ditto that!"

The Bottom Line.

My parents are currently working on a HUGE project: reflooring their house. (I know -- ouch! But what a great reward once it's over.)

Anyway, when we were all home for my Daddy's birthday in September, they asked our opinions on the type of flooring they'd chosen. They had a sample and were showing us how it looked against the fireplace, etc.

Caleb was busy flying Star Wars ships around as we talked about it, and at one point when he landed near us, I asked his thoughts on the new floor.

As soon as my sweet nephew made an expression pretty close to the one in this picture, just like it was yesterday, I could see my Grandma Johnson's dining room table, and watch her rolling out the dough for chicken and dumplings while singing sweet hymns in her gorgeous alto voice.

And the ceiling in Nan's house in Woolmarket -- all the wood and knots and how fascinating it looked from way down where I was playing on her oval rug.

And my Aunt Mildred's dishwasher-less kitchen -- the stove and sink and how she was always ready with fun conversation and fresh pitchers of lemonade, no matter what time of year or day you visited.

And Uncle Gary and Aunt Renee's dining room, and the countless meals and birthday parties and cakes (by Renee!) that we celebrated so many fun years over.

And the light fixtures that hung from the wood ceiling (much like my Nan's) at Woolmarket Baptist Church, and how I always daydreamed about swinging from them off the balcony all the way into the choir loft.

It's a strong possibility that a few of those decorative items I'm recalling weren't top of the line, or the most updated recommendations from interior designers, yet they were and still are vital to my memories. They helped compose the lyrics of my childhood.

So, in that rush of memories, I wasn't too shocked when Caleb asked with a puzzled look, "Why would Grammi and Grandpa get a new floor?"

Pulling him into a hug, my mom said, "Well, this carpet is just too old to keep, but you can always remember Grammi and Grandpa's old floor."

And really, she's right.

No matter what floor we're standing on, our memories are a key part of our foundation.

And that (as infamous former Jackson, MS, mayor Frank Melton used to say), is the bottom line.

Lordy, lordy, look who's....

....40:

The moonwalk!

Nah, not the one MJ did (though that may be 40, too), but the one Neil Armstrong did (or did he? hmmmmm).

It's interesting, though, how fast technology has moved along. I was surprised to learn this happened a mere 7 years before I was born. Really? I figured it was way earlier than that.

And to think that my Grandma Johnson, who was born in 1904, saw everything from horses and buggies....to birthing 11 children (!) in her home (!!)....to automobiles....to electric lights....to outdoor plumbing coming inside....to bought milk and chickens....to -- gasp! this was a horrid day that I WELL remember! -- 2% milk!....to television....to girls showing not only their ankles to men they weren't married to, but also their legs....to telephones....to an actual boombox....all all by the time she passed away in 1991.

Whatever side of the walk-on-the-moon debate we're on, we gotta admit: a lot has happened in the last 100 years, much less the last 40.

You go, Neil, and Grandma Johnson, and Pop Ball, and Nan, and Aunt Mildred, and Uncle Isaac, and all the others who did and continue to stick with this crazy fast world for as long as you have.
One small step for man; one giant leap for mankind.

So, so true. With every step we take.

Long live the progress.