Change of Scenery

In the course of a few hours, I traveled from curt wink and “you betcha” to slow smile and “how y'all doin'." The difference between Minnesota nice and North Carolina southern hospitality is wide as the Blue Ridge Mountains, and the comfort I find in being courteous-friendly at home suddenly feels “aloof” when compared to the “never-met-a-stranger” mentality of the south.

At home, I would never stop a stranger on the street to tell him it's my birthday and wouldn't he like to know who all is here visiting me? In North Carolina, my Great Uncle Wilburn told anyone who caught his eye that he just turned 90 and all these nice people standing here looking slightly uncomfortable on the sidewalk are here from Minnesota and Florida, and by golly, they kept the visit a surprise!

In Minnesota, our stories are fairly short, we drop details here and there, too worried we might bore our company. At least I do. After 3 days in NC, I know all about Second Cousin Linda's local friends and a lot about the ones from Texas. The stories were served with piles of wonderful food, steaming cups of coffee, good-natured teasing, and lots of drawl. No one was in a hurry, and it reminded me that the only time God was in a hurry was when He was portrayed as the prodigal's father, running to meet his long-lost son at the end of the lane.

I loved this time with my Southern kin. It wore me out and filled me up all at once. At home, there is a lot of space to go our separate directions, but here, in a little country cabin, squeezed together in the way that fosters community, we enjoyed familial love, the kind Dolly Parton used to sing about with banjo and fiddle and a side of grits.

I imagine Jesus would approve of this style of fellowship...up close, loving, interested. It was like He was there in the room with us, chewing a caramel by the fire and nodding as Cousin Linda gave him credit for healing the mass on her pancreas, and winking affirmation that yes, indeed, He made sure He answered her prayers for parking spots when we went downtown. I felt Him close as I took an early morning run through the autumn-tinted hills, and I saw His light shine through Great Aunt Betsy's eyes when she touched my arm and said, “Now, Jill, you are doin' an excellent job raisin' those children a yours.”

I'm home now. Monday morning. With new recipes and some stories to tell.  Thanks, y'all.