One Sunday in October...

   What do you want to do this afternoon?

   What about a ride around somewhere?

   Want to go down into Charlton County and see a couple of churches?

   That was the gist of a short conversation on our back porch yesterday, a conversation that culminated in a drive down south, camera in hand, toward Folkston, the county seat of Charlton County.

   A short drive over to Hwy 17 south, a jag south to the community of White Oak, a sign that read "Road Closed Bridge Out", a conversation in the car discussing the need to turn around, more signs, but cars coming the other way toward us

   Maybe...just maybe..

   More signs, then the river, a new bridge in place but the approaches not yet finished, a trip through road fill, up onto the new bridge, another trip through the fill at the west end, out onto Hwy 252, and smooth sailing.

   Corinth Primitive Baptist Church:

   A simple church, built in 1882, a quiet setting in the pines of South Georgia. People worshiped here. I wondered about their lives and their faith.

   Inside it was dark, only the light from the cracks between the boards and the shutters showing the simple pews. Pews where men and women with their families had sat listening and participating.

   I sat and thought for a few moments, then retreated to the car. We had another church to visit.

   On south on 252 into Folkston, then out the west side.

   There it was, on the east side, set back in the pines, Sardis Primitive Baptist Church.

   The setting was quiet, the folks in the cemetery were resting. The front door, barred but unlocked (indeed, there were no locks), beckoned..

  

   As I entered and sat down on the dusty pews, in the half light from outside, I thought about the contrast of worship that this day had brought.

   On this particular Sunday in October, our church on the Island, had its annual Church in the Park, where we gather for one service down in the park by the ocean. Lawn chairs, food for a picnic afterwards, music from the stage with speakers so large that they could probably hear the proceedings on Jekyll, the next island south.

   As I sat in that plain wooden building, cemetery out to the right side, the air still and the pines just standing there, I thought of a verse that began with "If my people, who are called by My Name..."

   And of the contrast between the worship of the morning with the ways of the past.

   But it was still "My People", and that was what mattered.

   Blessed to be in both spots on a glorious Sunday in October.

Remember When...?, Remember That...?, Remember Them...?

   (I wrote this earlier)

   Waking up this morning, I remembered that a couple of old friends, actually a couple, were coming to visit us today. We had begun our friendship back in the Sixties, in Chattanooga. We had "churched" together, and vacationed together with our respective families, 3 kids for them and 3 for us.

   We had continued our friendship over the years we were both in "Choo Choo City", and now in separate locales, they in Franklin, TN, and us here on our Island.

   (Then they came)

   We met for supper over on Jekyll, where they were staying. For a couple of hours we ate, and thought back over old times, and brought each other up to date on families and friends.

   Then we met for lunch at the old hotel to remember some more and talk about things that we had forgotten to say the night before.

   A lot of happy memories...

   As I read in Joshua this morning, a couple of thoughts came to mind.

   Joshua reminds his people of the faithfulness of God as he tells them to remember. Remember the crossing of the Red Sea, the manna in the wilderness.

   But there is more to the story, Joshua reminds that group of wandering Jews of the promises of God also. God will do this and do that for them.

   Looking back and looking forward.

   At our ages, it is easy to look back and talk about what has happened and smile.

   Do we look forward with the same smile?

   True, we have a lot more time behind us than we will have ahead of us in this life on planet earth, but there are things to anticipate as He continues to guide our lives.

   A sunset of life, a pleasant time of remembering, and a time of hope of a life to come.

   Let's grasp that also.

The Day Draweth Nigh...

   What to Do?

   What to Do?

   Early voting is here, and November 8th is approaching fast. Not fast enough to get rid of all the political commercials on TV, but too fast for people who do not know what to do.

   At the top of the ticket of each of the two main political parties lies a flawed candidate, at least in my mind, and, of the decisions to be made, neither is very palatable.

   So what to do?

   Hold my nose and vote for the lesser of two evils, or try to think of it in some other way?

   Here is what I think, and my plan as it stands. Or at the very least, my idea right now before stepping into the voting booth.

   The direction of the country in the future could well be determined by the Supreme Court, so I will cast my ballot for the person whom I feel will nominate judges that hold to the Constitution as written. Right now, that person is Donald Trump, a man who has so much baggage that it is even hard to hear him speak, but with whom I think the country will be less injured in the long run.

   The second part of my plan is to make sure to vote for the down ballot men and women that may be elected to be a buffer to whatever may go on at the top. An independent House and Senate that might be able to keep the country safe, sound and, at the very least, viable till a more suitable President might be elected.

   The one condition that we might not survive is a strong President, a weak Legislature, and a manipulative Court. We need a proper check and balance system.

   So that is my plan this Saturday morning as I sit here.

   Could it change in a few minutes? Sure, but...

   Back of it all, I think, is the statement I heard some time back:

   "God gives us the leaders that we deserve."

   Now I believe that God is indeed in control over all the affairs of men, that His will will be done, and that it is the best for all who believe.

   And I believe that I am only a fly speck on the pages of history, but I want my speck to be a part of the story line.

   So I will continue to pray and seek His guidance, then I will vote as is my duty as a citizen, and I will wait to see it all unfold.

   In the meantime, time does indeed march on..

Ellaville @ Eight

   What's a refugee to do when presented with a free Saturday while waiting to go home?

   How about a photo escape into a small town?

   We had visited Ellaville once before, when on our Georgia Courthouse tour, and, since our base was  only 10 or so miles away, we decided to make an early 8AM foray back there.

   The sun was just breaking in the eastern sky as we neared downtown.

   Looming over the whole area was the Schley County courthouse, where, a couple of years ago, we got the word on pronunciation of the county name. Schley pronounced "Sly".

   What is a county seat look like at 8AM on a Saturday?

   Well most of the folks were coming for breakfast in the Grill.

   Pickup trucks were in abundance, as was this good looking Chevy.

   No one was working yet (except in the Grill), but the businesses looked ready. The eastern side of the town square looked like this. Farm Bureau, Dry Cleaners, Pizza Place, Storefront Offices and the Oasis Church, plus a Lumber Supply across the street to the south.

   Only one short block away were the remnants of other working places whom time had passed by.

   The Grill was the only early opening business on the north side of the square, but there were also the Chamber of Commerce (in the old bank building) plus several others.

   One prominent building was the gymnasium from the era of an old high school.

   Then there were the staples of Southern county seats in Georgia:

   The courthouse

   The Water Tower

   The flag

   and the soldier, dressed in gray, guarding the town.

   A good morning, a somewhat typical small town, and some shots to help us remember. Thanks Ellaville for being there for us.

A Real Sacrifice...

   One friend asked me yesterday, when he heard how many days we had been gone in the evacuation, "How in the world did you spend 4+ days in Montezuma?. What did you do?"

   Well, first of all, our good friends took care of us, fed us, gave us a "barn" to sleep in and generally looked after our needs. It would have been a hassle without them.

   But we also took advantage of our time by catching up with some History.

   Just 10 miles south of their place was Andersonville, the site of the infamous Confederate POW camp in our Civil War (or the War of Northern Aggression as it is sometimes called).

   I had read some of the history of that place, and it was not a pretty story. Toward the end of that conflict, the Confederates were not even able to feed their own men, so how could the prisoners expect much. Disease and starvation were rampart and almost 13,000 Union soldiers died there over the time.

    You can read of the situation, and should, but I'll post a few snapshots of the area, just to pass along some of a camera's impressions.

   It was a stockade basically. The first section was comprised of about 16 acres, and the second around 10. No prisoner housing, except what they could cobble together, just two loping hillsides with a stream in the low section running through.

   A view of a replica of the palisade wall in the area of the north gate, where all prisoners entered a set of double doors, the outer one opened to let them into the enclosure, then closed, and the interior door opened to let them in the enclosed prison area.

   The men got plenty of sunshine and heat in the summer and rain and cold in the winter.

   After the war states placed monuments there to commemorate their losses.

   Graves were originally marked with wooden stakes, but were marked with stone and concrete markers after the war ended in 1865. You will notice how close the headstones are together. Men died in such numbers that burials were hasty, basically a long trench with bodies placed front to back with shoulders touching, like cordwood.

   We thought we were sacrificing our time to the evacuation of Matthew, but here was real sacrifice.

   This motto was on several of the monuments placed around.

   All who were put in here made a great, almost unbearable sacrifice.

   Many made the ultimate one.

Matthew Is Coming!

   4:58 AM Thursday, Oct. 6, 2016..a noise..a cell phone on charge is beeping...

   "There will be mandatory evacuation of St. Simons Island, beginning at 7AM this morning."

   OK we are awake anyway now, so let's get ready to go. We have a spot, a friend over in Montezuma has invited us to spend our evacuation time with them, and so we will head out that way.

   8:00 AM, we are on our way. No traffic around home, and, as we travel west on Hwy. 341, there is no one else out here. Just cruising along.

   12:30 AM, we are here and glad to be. Sunshine, blue sky and a few clouds. There is power and wifi, and all is good.

   Even if we are staying in the barn. Not like Jesus' stable in Bethlehem, but actually a small apt. inside the barn.

   Here is our "stable"

   The "regular barn" looks like this on the inside.

   Altogether a neat spot and we are happy to have it.

   Now what to do till we can go back.

   Even though this was Thursday and today is Saturday, I'll leave our adventures for another post.

   Stay tuned...

The Challenges of Reading Aloud..

   For the past several months, Mayre and I have been reading various fiction books aloud. That is to say that I have been reading, and she has been listening. This has brought about some distinct challenges.

   Now you must know that we have always loved to read, and, it seems, there were always two or three books in various stages of progress around our home. Lately we have stuck to one book at a time, and have tried to use a book series to keep the characters the same. That method has seemed to work well for us at this stage.

   Our current series is written by Louise Penny and is identified by the subtitle of A Chief Inspector Gamache Novel. The various plots revolve around the exploits of a Quebec Police inspector as he seeks to solve various murders in a town (village) south of Montreal and near the US border.

   Since the settings are in the Province of Quebec, the language of the people, although written in English, is sprinkled throughout with French phrases. Even without a working knowledge of French, the meanings are mostly clear through the context of the speakers. The problem is in the pronunciation as I try to read along. I understand the "Oui" as meaning "yes", and can pronounce that word, but past that, I am perplexed. So I stumble through and keep moving. French phrases with multiple words may just be skipped in their entirely.

   But there is another problem, and that has to do with choices of English words used. Mayre and I are not fond of foul language, and this author uses one "four letter" word with some regularity. It is not prominent, just there.

   So what to do? I can skip it, or I can substitute another word or phrase, but the main problem is seeing it coming. I need to read ahead in my mind to catch it before I have to use it, then, without missing a beat, decide to skip it or substitute, do that, and keep reading on.

   Makes for some interesting times, but luckily I am the only one who knows what I have done.

   I like the stories, and the characters are witty and unique, so I want to see what happens, to solve the mystery and laugh at the ways the people interact.

   So I sharpen my "reading ahead" skills while keeping the story moving, and we both enjoy the reading aloud.

   Another challenge dealt with...

   Sometimes very inexpertly..

   But, no one knows except you and me.