A True Story and A Sheepish Reminder

   When we got home last evening, and I unloaded the pictures from my camera, I knew what I wanted to write about this morning. Let me put it in perspective:

      The Story

   In the process of completing our courthouse picture journey, I had noticed on one county website, the story of an old 1858 courthouse that he been removed from its spot when a new one was built in 1919. This older one, one of the oldest frame courthouses left in Georgia, had been purchased by a resident of the town, moved from the old courthouse square and was, even today in 2015, being used a a private residence.

   It was the only story like this that we found, so, when we were in the area yesterday, we drove to that small county seat, to find that old building.

   What better place to ask about the story and get directions than the "new" 1919 courthouse?

                                Locked up tight, no one around.

   How about the city hall right up the street?

                                Same story, second verse.

   No one at the insurance office either.

   Really no activity here…

   Finally an unlocked door and a real person. But there was a problem even here. The lady inside this combination hardware and plant store had only lived in town for 8 years or so and, even though she had heard the story of the old courthouse, she had no information as to its whereabouts.

   She did know, however, who might be able to give me the answer to my question. An older lady, who worked in the bank up the street, would surely know. Another potential problem, the bank closed at 3pm, and it was 3:05 already. But, alas, the three cars parked in a lot south of the bank belonged to the employees, and they were still there. If I hurried I might catch them as they left the bank building to go home.

   Sure enough, as I walked across to the vacant lot, three ladies came out of the bank, locked the door and started toward their cars. Stopping their progress, introducing myself and my question, I got the answer I was seeking. Sure enough, the story was right, the third house to the north, on the left side was the building I was looking for. Hidden behind some big trees, you would not be able to identify it as an old courthouse.

   Mission accomplished…

   But there was more. As I emptied my computer bag this morning, a folded piece of paper dropped out. It was a church bulletin from 2013 when we had visited in North Carolina with friends..

   On the back page was a long prayer list, I counted 90 names, and at the bottom a little quote that made me step back a bit.

   "Be kinder than necessary, for everyone you meet is fighting some kind of battle."
                           T.H. Thompson and John Watson

   Here I was, poking fun at a sleepy Georgia town that clearly had seen better days, but what did I know of the individuals who lived there?

   It was a true account of my time there, sure, but who was I to throw stones? I had enough battles of my own to fight, and some not too successfully.

   A reminder to look at other's lives with respect, especially when I can only see the outward circumstances.