That's God!

Just a simple there and back trip to pickup the motorhome was our intention. It lumbers, sways and jiggles like a lumbering elephant. Ten minutes on the road and the the powersteering belt snapped. I'm thankful I wasn't driving. It takes "man" strength to get it off the road. I'm sure it wasn't intentional, but he parked it right under a church outdoor sign: Why aren't you coming to church? What better place to park; they'll take pity on us and pray.

Sunday morning the good-natured Pastor came over. Yes, they'd pray for us. He told his congregation he knew they had been wanting to get rid of him. "My house is packed and parked right outside; here's your chance." LOL

Our friends, and I do mean friends, live an hour northwest. Their little town has a postoffice, Dollar General and several churches. I was Baptist twice on Sunday with twenty-seven members. Mr. Pipkin has a powerful, musical voice worthy of the
musical "Oklahoma."

Pastor Peter was inspiring. When you need a place to stay and it's provided, that's God. One check for our friends putting us up. When you need something to eat and it's provided, that's God. Check two. When you need an encouraging word and someone gives it, that's God. Check three. While we were waiting on God to fix the motorhome, we were seeing God's work all around us.

Not only were we welcomed at our friend's home, they gave us four half-pints of homemade jelly to bring home: blackberry; apple, strawberry fig and blueberry.
Thank you, God.

2011 Red Convertible Travel Series

Zorba the Greek Mississippi Style

Anthony Quinn's character is dying. Locals hover round. Soon as he exhales his last, they strip his quarters clean.

Flood damage behind the MS Levy is extensive. Jagged waterline marks stained the cypress siding below and above windows, even on stilted homes. Uninvited flood water came and stayed. Doors hang open to ventilate. Exposed insulation hangs beneath, bedding for the taking by woods nesting creatures. Windows gape like toothless, old men exhaling stale smoke, their voices silenced: no more tall tales, lies and laughs.

Some camps have been buried, others have had no attention at all. One leans forgotten and deteriorating against trees that halted its escape. A few were permanent residents, as proved by their accumulation of yard decorations. Never has this generation seen such high water. Sawhorse height was not sufficient to save their posessions. In the aftermath, it was easier to walk away from once vibrant households than salvage. Rag pickers help themselves.

Nature restores itself. Will the homeowners do the same? Or will nature cover the remains with kudzu, and animals move in to stay?

2011 Red Convertible Travel Series

Me, a traffic stopper?

An hour late
he came for me
his eyes, ears
and traffic stopper

Into the woods we slipped
over potholes and around washouts
blacktop to scrunchy gravel
past sad, sagging remains
of flooded homes and rubble

He was too long
for a driveway
Around the tractor shed
to head out loaded

Diesel idle
Unhook the trailer
Drop the tracks
Move the truck

Tall, dead cottonwood
and pecans
easily removed
by elephant-like
scoop and lift

Engine roar
Track ho track
creaked and squeaked
War sound shudder
Monster herded
onto trailer
Trunk laid
in secure slot
Chained

Hydraulics moaned
lifting trailer
I count
22 wheels
60'

Retraced our route
Levy approach washout
right lane
He waits
My job to get him
up and over

Silent prayer
My mettle tested
Do I feel anyone
coming this way
No

I ease to the top
Pull to the right
Look to the east
Empty

Down the other side
Stop approaching car
Extra-wide load coming
Pull off please
Dial my man
All's clear

He sailed over the levy
toward me 1/4 mile away
Oncoming pickup won't stop
for my waving jacket

Big rig brakes
slows over-sized load
Pulls right
Fool sees
slows some
but continues
as if privileged

Back where we started
Job complete
Thumbs up
and beep beep

His day
load and unload
Mine
one-of-a-kind

2011 Red Convertible Travel Series