Faith, Folklore, and Friends

There comes a time when we must rest. Physically, we have no problem understanding this. Surely, we have all been to the place where the effort of putting one foot in front of the other seemed impossible, when we fall asleep as soon as we sit down. So tired that we can feel every bone with their individual aches. Rest is the only thing that will help us, restore us. By the seventh day God had finished the work He had been doing; so on the seventh day He rested from all His work. And God blessed the seventh day and made it holy, because on it He rested from all the work of creating that He had done. Genesis 2:2-3. Emotionally, it's a little harder. The things that drain us emotionally--stress related to family, finances, whatever--is not so easily shut off, lingering with us during what should be our restful times. What should I do? How can I manage that? Will I ever get this done? These questions and others torment us even during our sleep. Come to me, all you who are weary and bu

And the LORD God made all kinds of trees grow out of the ground--trees that were pleasing to the eye and good for food. In the middle of the garden were the tree of life and the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. Genesis 2:9 Then the trees of the forest will sing, they will sing for joy before the LORD, for he comes to judge the earth. I Chronicles 16:33 He is like a tree planted by streams of water, which yields its fruit in season and whose leaf does not wither. Whatever he does prospers. Psalm 1:3 The trees of the LORD are well watered, the cedars of Lebanon that he planted. There the birds make their nests; the stork has its home in the pine trees. Psalm 104:16-17 I made gardens and parks and planted all kinds of fruit trees in them. I made reservoirs to water groves of flourishing trees. Ecclesiastes 2:5-6 Be not afraid, O wild animals, for the open pastures are becoming green. The trees are bearing their fruit; the fig tree and the vine yield their riches. J

I'm tired of winter already, and it is just a few weeks old. Apparently, the sweltering days of July and August thins our blood or something similar. We just can't stand the cold. Many years, we have no snow at all. We have had two significant snowfalls already, and the dreaded February isn't here yet. Of course, February may have seventy degree days and tornadoes. We never know. North Alabama weather may be weird, but it is never boring. Before the technological age, people relied on the Farmer's Almanac and signs to forecast the weather. They had about the same accuracy that digital radar and 24-hour forecasting has today. Have you heard these? 'If the first week in August is unusually warm, the coming winter will be snowy and long.' Has the first week in August ever been cool? Not in my lifetime. 'For every fog in August, there will be a snowfall in Winter.' I remember my Mom counting the fogs, but I can't remember if it worked. 'Onion skins

In loving memory of Mary Lynn Stricklin Horton January 12, 1937-December 2, 1990 She was the same kind of different as me. My half-sister, Mary Lynn, was my oldest sibling. Her mom died from complications of measles/pneumonia when Mary was about four, and her brother was two. Before too long, my dad and mom were married, my mom a new bride with an instant family. My parents lives, like those of everyone we knew, consisted of growing cotton and corn and children. Their world was very small, immobile, static for generations. An aunt and uncle had moved to Michigan searching for a better life and had seemingly found it. When the aunt became pregnant, Mary traveled there to help her during the pregnancy. Mary saw how big the world was. She returned home when she was no longer needed. She was never content there again. There was not a lot of opportunity for social interaction with anyone who was not a relative. People visiting from outside the area always seemed different and exciting. When

We have snow. Not our usual look quick or it will be gone snow. Not the occasional dusting of grass. Not the snowfall where there wasn't enough to make even a wimpy snowman. A REAL snow!! Our last comparable snowfall was in 1988, when my sons were teenagers. I remember it well. A couple of years ago, Hub and I bought a sled at an auction. First born granddaughter, almost fifteen, just shook her head and said, "The only way we will ever get to use that is to put wheels on it." It has been hanging in the garage, gathering spiderwebs, until now! All schools were closed yesterday and today, and the county schools may be closed all week. Our county cannot invest in snow equipment that might be used once a decade, so the snow just has to melt on its own in most places. That's okay. We love it! Cleanse me with hyssop, and I will be clean; wash me, and I will be whiter than snow. Psalm 51:7

It's a new year. Four days old; still an infant. 2011. A number that seemed liked science fiction when I was a child. It came, like it always does, whether we are ready for it or not. Almost all of us use the new year as a starting point for our lives that are going to be so different from now on. It is an unavoidable reminder that time marches on and we really should quit putting off the things we want to do. Like teaching a child something that only you know...like walking at dawn when it is still...like taking time to listen. Like feeling sand between our toes and the sun on our backs. Like wiping away a friend's tears or mingling them with your own. Instead of planning things we intend to do, perhaps we should list things we refuse to do. For instance, I refuse to let 2011 end without finishing some projects, taking that trip, growing those heirloom tomatoes. Making goals and writing them down has always been helpful for me. Lists keep us on track and are a constant remin

For as long as I remember, I have always eaten black-eyed peas on New Year's Day. It is just what we do 'round here. Tradition is important. It's where we came from, even if it doesn't always make sense. What your dinner consists of may be different from mine, depending on the area of the country you are from. Almost all of them will include black eyed peas. The ubiquitous symbol for good luck, there are many pots boiling right now, hopefully seasoned with a little hog jowl. This tradition can be traced back to the Civil War. Sherman's troops, stealing and looting every farmhouse and homestead, thought themselves too superior to eat black eyed peas. These peas were first grown as a feed crop for animals and slaves, so the men in blue left the peas in the field. I'm sure the women and children and old men were grateful for anything to eat after their beef and chicken and fruit were stolen. Some put a penny or dime in their pot of black eyed peas. Tradition has