So I’m fully aware that this post has absolutely nothing to do with remodeling my house, but since most of my postings are more about the simple pleasures in life than remodeling, I thought this followed the same theme.
This week, I have the great pleasure of recruiting for the University (I like to consider this a perk rather than a requirement of my job). I’m getting paid to drive my convertible across the state. How awesome is that? I started my week long “Tour de Alabama” at 5:00 sharp this morning. There was a crispness to the air that could only be part of the Fall in Alabama. I decided a long time ago when planning this trip that I would take Highway 43 to Tuscaloosa, my first stop, instead of the interstate. I know, I could have made better time, I could have driven faster, I could have saved gasoline…there are a lot of perks to taking the interstate – but one perk of taking a rural highway trumps the interstate every time – the personality. My GPS disagreed whole heartedly and insisted I turn around at every available spot. So we aren’t on speaking terms since I unplugged it and threw it in the glove box.
As I traversed further south into the state, farms dotted the two lane highway with faded red barns, glistening silos, and steam covered ponds. It is a weird and yet complacent feeling to watch the sun rise over the treetops of a mountain. It’s also nearly impossible to find a convenient bathroom in a pinch – but one has the same problem on the interstate and I digress. In trying to merge from Highway 74 back to Highway 13, I blew past the junction on into God’s Country (Lady Antebellum was blaring on the radio, don’t judge me). I found a little half-gravel/half-asphalt road that led back to the highway – and the wrong turn was totally worth the detour. It was a stellar countryside and an exemplary show of the wonders of Fall in the South.
I think the most profound part of my trip this morning was traveling through Phil Campbell and witnessing the scar over this little Southern town. But that is exactly what it is, folks – a scar from a prevalent wound that is healing with time. Ravaged houses still dot the landscape alongside wind twisted trees. But adjacent to these houses are new dwellings with a light that penetrates the darkness – a reminder of the ingenuity and triumph that builds this South. The wind ravaged trees are full of leaves again. It’ll be a scar that stays with each of us forever – a subtle reminder of the awesome wonder of God. But I’m not talking about the wound that caused the scar; I’m talking about the resilience, the persistence, and faith that has healed that bleeding wound to a scar. I think it is something that can only be found in the South and understood by those people that give the South its distinct flavor. Be proud of your neighbors, your heritage, and our success as Southerners. I know I am.
Warm Southern Days,
Russ
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| Sometimes, the detours really are the best part. |
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