Thanksgiving has always been my favorite holiday. There is no pressure for the perfect gift, it isn't about one single person, it is just a celebration of thanks.
The food, friends, family all combine to make Thanksgiving a special time.
As I have grown older, my Thanksgiving celebrations have changed. Since, moving to Florida I have always had to work the day after Thanksgiving, so travelling to Georgia has been out of the question. Now, I celebrate this special holiday with my Florida family, a collection of friends who have blessed my life in unimagined ways.
It is sad not to be with my family in Georgia on this holiday, but I know that they hold a special place in their hearts for me as they sit to enjoy the harvest of love they feast on at Thanksgiving.
As much as I loved those Thanksgiving celebrations in God's Country before moving to Florida, and as much as I love the ones I take part in here, my favorite Thanksgiving memories are from my early childhood, in a place called Rochelle, Ga.
Rochelle, is a tiny town in south-western Georgia, approximately 60 miles from Macon. Not much happens in Rochelle, it is an agriculture community that thrives on pecan fields. Rochelle is where we lived the first year of my life.
We moved away from Rochelle, before my first birthday, but it has always held a special place in our hearts.
During our time in Rochelle, our family became part of a close-knit circle of friends the Hudsons, the Horns, the Mashburns, Whitworths, Conners, Reeds and others, an extended family much like the one I have created in Florida.
We had a special bond with the Hudsons, Newt, Gracie, Randy, Dixie and Suzanne.
For years after moving to God's Country, we would travel to Rochelle for Thanksgiving. Mama and daddy would pack up the car after school let out on Wednesday and we would travel into the night to our friend's in south-Georgia. A standing invitation was held for us at Newt and Gracie's house and we would revel in being there.
Newt was the County Extension Director and later became a State Legislator. Randy, their son, is the splitting image of his father in personality and actions.
Gracie was a combination of Paula Deen and Rose Kennedy. The loud, hilarious, protective matriarch of the family. Dixie is as much like Gracie as anyone could imagine.
Suzanne, the perfect combination of her father's quite dignity and her mother's rambunctious zest for life.
To me, Gracie was the funniest, kindest, most loving person I have ever known. She had an infectious laugh that would echo through the house, a love that was as poignant one on one as in a crowd, and a simple elegance that would capture every eye when she walked into a room.
Arriving in Rochelle for Thanksgiving meant one thing.... joy! Unbridled joy!
We would drive up to the Hudson house late into the evening and be engulfed in hugs, kisses and laughter that would last long past the time we returned to God's Country.
Without delay preparations would begin for the Harvest of Thanks that would be presented the next day. A table filled with turkey, ham, beef, fish, vegetables, salads, cakes and pies of every combination and most of all love.
My favorite memories of Gracie have nothing to do with the meal preparation, but special times sharing the bench of her organ, laughing and singing to her concert that in my mind was performed just for me.
Located in the den of the house was Gracie's organ, no music in sight, but the most important piece of furniture in their house in my young mind.
To this day, I recall asking repeatedly "Gracie, will you play the organ for me?" After some simple coaxing, she would always pull off her apron, take me by the hand, place me on the bench along side her and begin to play. Gracie played by ear, and in my mind she performed like the best of the best at Carnegie Hall.
I would sit along side Gracie and the rest of the family would join us in the den. She would play, she would sing, she would laugh and we would all join in. Those moments spent with Gracie are some of the most treasured of my life, I will never forget that time for as long as I live.
Mama and Gracie would continue preparations for the feast long into the night. Potatoes peeled, oranges crushed, cakes baked and a continuous round of basting the turkey throughout the night, this was a meal prepared with love for all those who would sit together the following day.
After a long night, preparations would again begin early in the morning. After a full breakfast, daddy, Newt, Tom, Sam and Randy would make their way to the Hudson's farm, a sprawling pecan orchard with grazing cows and catfish ponds. I stayed behind, tugging on Gracie's apron strings just enjoying the time with this lady I loved so much.
By lunchtime, the house was filled with all the other families who had been a part of our life in Rochelle. Providing their own dishes, there was easily enough food for the entire state and more laughter in one confined place than should be allowed.
We would gather together as time for the feast approached and Newt would lead us in prayer. All holding hands, families intermingled.... an extended family of love.
A Harvest of Thanks!
I treasure those times in Rochelle, the memories of those days still impact me some 30 years later.
As I grew older we didn't travel to Rochelle for Thanksgiving anymore. Ma-ma and Gramps were getting older and it was important for us to stay closer to God's Country, but that extended family still holds a special place in my heart.
We lost Gracie a few years back, I had not seen her in many years when she died and I regret that, but I know she loved me and I know she knew I loved her. She will always hold a special place in my heart and I look forward to sitting at her side again some day as she serenades the angels in heaven on her organ.
Yes, Thanksgiving has always been my favorite holiday, a time to tell those important to you that they are loved.... a time to give thanks!
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Monday, November 16, 2009
Short Notes..... Rabun Cross
I received an email this week regarding my story on The Shining Cross. The email included a link to the website Rabun Cross. If you would like more information on the cross, the story of the cross or to see additional photos, check it out, it really is spectacular.
Monday, November 9, 2009
Daddy's Little Girl
Like most kids, I had pets of all kinds growing up. You have read about my dog Andy, I also had "Duke", "Jip" and Sam had "Rowdy."
We had the occasional fish, craw fish and lightening bug, we once had a parakeet.
When I went away to college, I got a goldfish "Goldie Hawn" my Junior year and kept it alive until I graduated, a feat unto itself, but somehow I was able to keep it alive.
After Goldie Hawn, I went many years without a pet. With my tendency to move frequently and my 20 something life-style, it is probably a good thing that I didn't take on the responsibility of a pet.
As I began to settle down, I started thinking about a pet. Since I lived in a condo a cat was the most logical choice, but I hate cats, so that was out of the question. I continued pet-less until I moved into my home.
After moving into my house, I got the itch for a pet again, I knew what I wanted.... a dog.
As I was researching breeds, I set up some ground rules for what I wanted.....
We had the occasional fish, craw fish and lightening bug, we once had a parakeet.
When I went away to college, I got a goldfish "Goldie Hawn" my Junior year and kept it alive until I graduated, a feat unto itself, but somehow I was able to keep it alive.
After Goldie Hawn, I went many years without a pet. With my tendency to move frequently and my 20 something life-style, it is probably a good thing that I didn't take on the responsibility of a pet.
As I began to settle down, I started thinking about a pet. Since I lived in a condo a cat was the most logical choice, but I hate cats, so that was out of the question. I continued pet-less until I moved into my home.
After moving into my house, I got the itch for a pet again, I knew what I wanted.... a dog.
As I was researching breeds, I set up some ground rules for what I wanted.....
- No female
- No sissy dog
- No pet store
With my rules set, I continued my research. One Saturday afternoon, I was out running errands when I ended up in a strip center with a few minutes to kill. Deciding that some hands-on pet research would do me good, I wandered into the pet store, just to look!
I made it clear to the salesperson when she asked if she could help me that I was not there to buy, I was ONLY LOOKING!
Out of the corner of my eye, a cute little bundle of black and white mischief got my attention. I was drawn over to the pen that little fur ball was housed in and reached in to pet the tiny pup.
With the horns blaring and big neon sign flashing "SUCKER ALERT" over my head, the salesperson rushed over and placed that little girl right in my arms.
Needless to say, after a few minutes of play, I knew this FEMALE, SISSY BREED, FROM A PET STORE dog was going home with me.
With a long breath, I told the attendant, give her a bath and I will be back in one hour, I need that much time to talk myself out of this purchase.
No sooner had I gotten into my car than I was dialing my neighbors, I knew both of the calls I was going to make would help bring me to my senses and leave this puppy in the pet store where she belonged.
First call was Leigh, I knew Leigh would tell me I was an idiot for even thinking about this. UUUMMMMM, no, Leigh thought it was a great idea, I needed a cute little puppy and she would even babysit when I needed her to.
Ok, strike out with Leigh, but a call to Wendy would certainly do the trick. Wendy is the neighbor who doesn't mince words, she will tell me quickly that I am not responsible enough to have a dog, I know Wendy will talk me out of it. UUUMMMMM, no, Wendy couldn't encourage me more, she thought a puppy was exactly what I needed.
So I ended up with this cute little pup, she came home with me that day and has been here ever since.
Rosalita "Lita" Grace quickly took control of our residence on day one and hasn't let up since. I remember before I had a dog I used to think people were unstable when they would talk about their dogs like they were children. Now I completely understand it.
Lita is the light of my life. There is not a day that goes by that she doesn't make me laugh. When she curls up into the small of my back at night for sleep a sense of peace comes over me at the end of a long day. I can't go from one room to the other that she doesn't follow me and our nightly game of fetch is a highlight for me.
It's funny, I realized many years ago that I would never have children, but I didn't realize until I adopted Lita that I could love anything as much as I do her. Dog love is different that people love, I get that, but the love I have for this furry little girl is incredibly strong.
Lita is the one thing on this earth that is totally dependant on me, I take that responsibility seriously.
In a few weeks we will celebrate Lita's third birthday, there won't be a party or anything that silly, but she and I will celebrate. She will get a new toy and a special treat, just to mark the impact she has had on my life.
Lita is my little girl, she is prissy and she is the queen of this castle. I love her and can't imagine life without her.
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
Short Notes.... Fall Splendor
Why do I call it God's Country?
Take a look at the video....
Fall Splendor
Thanks to my brother, Sam for sending this to me.
Take a look at the video....
Fall Splendor
Thanks to my brother, Sam for sending this to me.
Sunday, November 1, 2009
Run Lindsay, Run!
Well, my beloved Georgia Bulldogs suffered another massacre at the hands of the Florida Crocodiles yesterday, the planets are out of line and darkness descends on the earth..... these are sad, sad days!
Unfortunately for the better part of the last 15 years, these dark days have haunted our land as those nasty, ugly crocks have chomped down on our beautiful DAWGS and sent us home in defeat.
If this scourge continues, it won't be long before locust devour our fields and volcanoes erupt, covering our planet in orange lava...... those reptiles must be stopped!
It wasn't always this way, years ago, ok let me be honest, DECADES ago, we lived in a better time. A time when the red and black ruled supreme, when the world's largest cocktail party really was something to revel in, a time when the DAWGS were on top and those pesky crocodiles were just another pesky step on our way to College Football supremacy. Ahhh, I remember it well.......
Remember it with me, won't you.... a time when milk and honey were in abundance, when life was good, when a lizard knew its place and didn't pose a threat to a rough and tough bulldog, those were the days my friends!
Picture it, November 8, 1980 and the Georgia Bulldogs are mid-way through an undefeated season. Led by Herschel Walker, Buck Belue and a pack of others, the Dawgs make their way to Jacksonville, FL for the annual clash of states, the Georgia-Florida classic known as the "World's Largest Cocktail Party."
I settled into the living room with mama and daddy to watch the game on CBS. We knew that the lizards would be our toughest competition of the year and any hopes of winning a National Championship would be solidified, or lost, on the field that day.
As was customary in our house, if we weren't at the game we watched it on television. We watched it on television, but the sound was off....... for the true picture of what was happening we LISTENED to Larry Munson, the voice of the Bulldogs on the radio!
The game was a nail-biter all day but going into the game, no one could have predicted that the final 90 seconds would determine Georgia's fate, on their march to a National Championship.
With just 90 seconds to go, the Dawgs were deep in the Florida red-zone, behind by one point and on 3rd down, it seemed like the magical season was in jeopardy. For Georgia to win the game, all the goodness of the earth would have to join forces and help conquer those evil crocks.
As the forces of good, stepped up to the line of scrimmage, you could feel the tension in our living room, in the living rooms of the faithful throughout the state of Georgia and in the stadium in Jacksonville.
I had made my way to a chair between mama and daddy, we didn't breathe, we just let Larry Munson guide us through those next few moments.
Relive it with me now...... the miracle of 1980, the moment good defeated evil, the moment when the sun shone bright and the fellowship of humanity celebrate the slaughter of a ugly lizard, sending it back to the swamp.
Run Lindsay, Run!
As Lindsay ran, you could feel the excitement grow. Run Lindsay, Run! Mama and Daddy and I ended up on our feet, jumping with the Georgia faithful! The dawgs were headed to New Orleans and their moment of destiny, a National Championship!
Those were beautiful days, yes they were and I encourage you, to remember the way things should be, the way they will be again, the days when Dawgs are king and pesky reptiles know their place!
Unfortunately for the better part of the last 15 years, these dark days have haunted our land as those nasty, ugly crocks have chomped down on our beautiful DAWGS and sent us home in defeat.
If this scourge continues, it won't be long before locust devour our fields and volcanoes erupt, covering our planet in orange lava...... those reptiles must be stopped!
It wasn't always this way, years ago, ok let me be honest, DECADES ago, we lived in a better time. A time when the red and black ruled supreme, when the world's largest cocktail party really was something to revel in, a time when the DAWGS were on top and those pesky crocodiles were just another pesky step on our way to College Football supremacy. Ahhh, I remember it well.......
Remember it with me, won't you.... a time when milk and honey were in abundance, when life was good, when a lizard knew its place and didn't pose a threat to a rough and tough bulldog, those were the days my friends!
Picture it, November 8, 1980 and the Georgia Bulldogs are mid-way through an undefeated season. Led by Herschel Walker, Buck Belue and a pack of others, the Dawgs make their way to Jacksonville, FL for the annual clash of states, the Georgia-Florida classic known as the "World's Largest Cocktail Party."
I settled into the living room with mama and daddy to watch the game on CBS. We knew that the lizards would be our toughest competition of the year and any hopes of winning a National Championship would be solidified, or lost, on the field that day.
As was customary in our house, if we weren't at the game we watched it on television. We watched it on television, but the sound was off....... for the true picture of what was happening we LISTENED to Larry Munson, the voice of the Bulldogs on the radio!
The game was a nail-biter all day but going into the game, no one could have predicted that the final 90 seconds would determine Georgia's fate, on their march to a National Championship.
With just 90 seconds to go, the Dawgs were deep in the Florida red-zone, behind by one point and on 3rd down, it seemed like the magical season was in jeopardy. For Georgia to win the game, all the goodness of the earth would have to join forces and help conquer those evil crocks.
As the forces of good, stepped up to the line of scrimmage, you could feel the tension in our living room, in the living rooms of the faithful throughout the state of Georgia and in the stadium in Jacksonville.
I had made my way to a chair between mama and daddy, we didn't breathe, we just let Larry Munson guide us through those next few moments.
Relive it with me now...... the miracle of 1980, the moment good defeated evil, the moment when the sun shone bright and the fellowship of humanity celebrate the slaughter of a ugly lizard, sending it back to the swamp.
Run Lindsay, Run!
As Lindsay ran, you could feel the excitement grow. Run Lindsay, Run! Mama and Daddy and I ended up on our feet, jumping with the Georgia faithful! The dawgs were headed to New Orleans and their moment of destiny, a National Championship!
Those were beautiful days, yes they were and I encourage you, to remember the way things should be, the way they will be again, the days when Dawgs are king and pesky reptiles know their place!
Sunday, October 25, 2009
5' of Dynamo
Ma-ma died in 1994, some days, like today, it seems like yesterday. I still want to pick up the phone just to hear her voice.
Ma-ma was 5' of dynamo! She was a southern lady to the core of her being, with a mischievous grin that could light up the room.
I was my ma-ma's baby, the youngest grandchild. She doted on me like there was no tomorrow. After Tom died and mama was still recovering from her own car accident I spent a lot of time with ma-ma, it brought up incredibly close.
I remember taking a bath in the big sink in the kitchen, or drinking coffee with ma-ma at the kitchen table. Truth be known, I was actually drinking milk with a drop of coffee, but still to me I was drinking coffee with my ma-ma.
Ma-ma was quite the seamstress, she made all of the grand children's "fancy" clothes, she even made Sam's prom suit. She would sit at her old Singer sewing machine in the wooden cabinet and sew for hours. That old sewing machine now sits in my living room, to most people it is just an old piece of furniture, to me, it is memories; a prized possession from a woman who helped shape my life. Inside the old cabinet still lays her threads, needles and thimbles, just waiting for her to open back up and get to work.
She was also a great cook, but baking was her real forte. Her passion for baking was passed on to me at an early age. We would make sugar cookies, pound cakes, Christmas candies and pies. Rarely did she make a sweet that she didn't leave just enough in the bowl for me or the other grand kids to feast upon, there is nothing like raw dough and the pleasure of standing in her kitchen licking a bowl clean is something that will never leave my mind.
Ma-ma's other passion was flowers, she had beautiful roses and dahlias and African Violets. Her green thumb created one of the most beautiful gardens in the area.
There wasn't much domestically that ma-ma couldn't do and if she couldn't do it she would watch "The Nancy Welch Show" to get tips to make it happen. Nancy Welch was the pre-cursor to Martha Stewart and on more than one occasion ma-ma would quote her as an authority.
One of Sam's favorite lines to use on me is that I am the sensitive child. It's true I am, but the line originated with ma-ma. On one of the many occasions when Sam was picking on me, she came to my defense and told him to leave me alone, "Ken is a sensitive child." While at the time I wasn't too thrilled with the title, today I can't think of a greater moniker.
She could make us all laugh with just a simple phrase and she could make you shake in your boots when she would insist that you go out in the back yard and pick your own hickery for a punishment you would receive for doing something wrong. Ma-ma was 5' of dynamo!
As her health began to fade she lost her ability to do the things she loved. First the sewing and then the baking, but the flowers remained. Up until her death she had beautiful African Violets on her back porch that she and gramps tended to.
Her death was drawn out and painful, not just for her but for those of us who loved her, we didn't want to watch this vibrant soul suffer any longer. The week before she died she was in Emory Hospital in Atlanta, I am thankful she was there because after college I had moved to Atlanta and was able to spend time with her.
The night before she died, I sat beside her and held her hand. I helped her drink her liquid dinner and I told her how much I loved her. The next day, around lunchtime mama called to tell me she was gone.
I miss that sweet gentle soul, that 5' of dynamo. But I am thankful that I was able to learn from her, today some of the same passions she held mean the most to me. I don't ever bake a cake that I don't think of her when I am licking the bowl, and while my garden looks nothing like hers, I think she would approve.
I still miss my ma-ma....... just like it was yesterday.
Ma-ma was 5' of dynamo! She was a southern lady to the core of her being, with a mischievous grin that could light up the room.
I was my ma-ma's baby, the youngest grandchild. She doted on me like there was no tomorrow. After Tom died and mama was still recovering from her own car accident I spent a lot of time with ma-ma, it brought up incredibly close.
I remember taking a bath in the big sink in the kitchen, or drinking coffee with ma-ma at the kitchen table. Truth be known, I was actually drinking milk with a drop of coffee, but still to me I was drinking coffee with my ma-ma.
Ma-ma was quite the seamstress, she made all of the grand children's "fancy" clothes, she even made Sam's prom suit. She would sit at her old Singer sewing machine in the wooden cabinet and sew for hours. That old sewing machine now sits in my living room, to most people it is just an old piece of furniture, to me, it is memories; a prized possession from a woman who helped shape my life. Inside the old cabinet still lays her threads, needles and thimbles, just waiting for her to open back up and get to work.
She was also a great cook, but baking was her real forte. Her passion for baking was passed on to me at an early age. We would make sugar cookies, pound cakes, Christmas candies and pies. Rarely did she make a sweet that she didn't leave just enough in the bowl for me or the other grand kids to feast upon, there is nothing like raw dough and the pleasure of standing in her kitchen licking a bowl clean is something that will never leave my mind.
Ma-ma's other passion was flowers, she had beautiful roses and dahlias and African Violets. Her green thumb created one of the most beautiful gardens in the area.
There wasn't much domestically that ma-ma couldn't do and if she couldn't do it she would watch "The Nancy Welch Show" to get tips to make it happen. Nancy Welch was the pre-cursor to Martha Stewart and on more than one occasion ma-ma would quote her as an authority.
One of Sam's favorite lines to use on me is that I am the sensitive child. It's true I am, but the line originated with ma-ma. On one of the many occasions when Sam was picking on me, she came to my defense and told him to leave me alone, "Ken is a sensitive child." While at the time I wasn't too thrilled with the title, today I can't think of a greater moniker.
She could make us all laugh with just a simple phrase and she could make you shake in your boots when she would insist that you go out in the back yard and pick your own hickery for a punishment you would receive for doing something wrong. Ma-ma was 5' of dynamo!
As her health began to fade she lost her ability to do the things she loved. First the sewing and then the baking, but the flowers remained. Up until her death she had beautiful African Violets on her back porch that she and gramps tended to.
Her death was drawn out and painful, not just for her but for those of us who loved her, we didn't want to watch this vibrant soul suffer any longer. The week before she died she was in Emory Hospital in Atlanta, I am thankful she was there because after college I had moved to Atlanta and was able to spend time with her.
The night before she died, I sat beside her and held her hand. I helped her drink her liquid dinner and I told her how much I loved her. The next day, around lunchtime mama called to tell me she was gone.
I miss that sweet gentle soul, that 5' of dynamo. But I am thankful that I was able to learn from her, today some of the same passions she held mean the most to me. I don't ever bake a cake that I don't think of her when I am licking the bowl, and while my garden looks nothing like hers, I think she would approve.
I still miss my ma-ma....... just like it was yesterday.
Sunday, October 18, 2009
The Shining Cross
People ask me from time to time, why I call my hometown God's Country. It began as a joke between Sam and I. When I moved to Florida and I would tell him about some of the shenanigans going on here, he would shoot back with a quick "we don't have those problems here in God's Country."
For me, God's Country is a place of idyllic beauty. Where the people care for each other, the seasons each bring forth rich balance and a simplistic peace flows like a river through the land. Basically, my hometown is as close to God's Country as I have ever known.
Nestled in the north Georgia mountains this beautiful utopia has thrived for many years. This earthly God's Country isn't perfect, the problems found in all society are there, but there is something about that place that gives me peace. It is like the mountains that surround the land insulates it from many of the troubles found just over the ridge.
Overlooking God's Country stands Black Rock Mountain. At the very top the land has been designated a State park and people come from far and wide to hike, camp and admire the beautiful scenery from its look out.
As I was growing up, Black Rock Mountain was a beacon for family picnics, camping trips and Easter Sunrise, but in mind the true beacon of Black Rock was the lighted cross.
Standing atop the mountain and off to the side of the state park was a beautiful lighted cross, standing 40 - 50' high. Each night at sunset, the cross would illuminate as if to protect those beneath it for the night. The cross on Black Rock Mountain was a symbol, not necessarily a religious symbol, but a symbol for the community.
I was raised to respect the cross for the Christian symbol of Jesus dying for my sins, but for others it had different personal significance.
Every night that cross would light up and it could be seen from miles away, a lighted cross shining as a beacon for those below. During the Christmas season, the cross would change. From Thanksgiving to New Year's, the cross would become either a Christmas tree or star, honestly I don't remember which, I just remember it would change.
Immediately after the New Year it would change back to that beautiful cross.
That cross on the top of Black Rock was a symbol for our town, one that gave us pride and shown as a light for all those who saw it.
Sometime in the early 70's the State of Georgia was sued over the cross on top of Black Rock. The cross had to come down because it was viewed as promoting the Christian religion on state land. I am a firm believer in the separation of Church and State, however as is often the case, the cross on Black Rock and the citizens of God's Country became the victims of someone trying to make a point and serving their own agenda instead of the public at large.
I don't know, but I am sure the person who brought the suit probably wasn't a resident of the town, but someone who heard about it or saw it passing through and decided they were offended by what it stood for.
For many years, we were without our cross. Somehow the nights seemed darker without that light standing guard over our town. The town went on, it didn't crumble, but when you looked to the mountains there was always something missing.
About a year ago, mama told me that the cross was back on Black Rock. I couldn't have been more happy.
This summer when I made my annual trek to God's Country, one of the things on my to do list was to see the cross. I had heard it was even more magnificent than it was when I was young.
Because of the torrential rains and flooding when I was there, I didn't get out much and a nighttime drive to see the cross was out of the question.
On the morning I left to come back to Florida the rains had subsided and a heavy coating of fog coated the countryside. As I was making my way down Smith Hill leading to the highway home, there it was.... the cross.
Caressed by a blanket of fog, the cross illuminated the landscape.
The cross now stands on land that is privately owned so as not to interfere with any one's "personal liberties," but it stands and it glows!
That cross that for so many years burned with radiance, was dark and now glows again, the cross still stands.
I got a sense of peace driving out of town that morning after seeing the cross. Once again the beacon had returned and it shined brighter than ever.
For me, God's Country is a place of idyllic beauty. Where the people care for each other, the seasons each bring forth rich balance and a simplistic peace flows like a river through the land. Basically, my hometown is as close to God's Country as I have ever known.
Nestled in the north Georgia mountains this beautiful utopia has thrived for many years. This earthly God's Country isn't perfect, the problems found in all society are there, but there is something about that place that gives me peace. It is like the mountains that surround the land insulates it from many of the troubles found just over the ridge.
Overlooking God's Country stands Black Rock Mountain. At the very top the land has been designated a State park and people come from far and wide to hike, camp and admire the beautiful scenery from its look out.
As I was growing up, Black Rock Mountain was a beacon for family picnics, camping trips and Easter Sunrise, but in mind the true beacon of Black Rock was the lighted cross.
Standing atop the mountain and off to the side of the state park was a beautiful lighted cross, standing 40 - 50' high. Each night at sunset, the cross would illuminate as if to protect those beneath it for the night. The cross on Black Rock Mountain was a symbol, not necessarily a religious symbol, but a symbol for the community.
I was raised to respect the cross for the Christian symbol of Jesus dying for my sins, but for others it had different personal significance.
Every night that cross would light up and it could be seen from miles away, a lighted cross shining as a beacon for those below. During the Christmas season, the cross would change. From Thanksgiving to New Year's, the cross would become either a Christmas tree or star, honestly I don't remember which, I just remember it would change.
Immediately after the New Year it would change back to that beautiful cross.
That cross on the top of Black Rock was a symbol for our town, one that gave us pride and shown as a light for all those who saw it.
Sometime in the early 70's the State of Georgia was sued over the cross on top of Black Rock. The cross had to come down because it was viewed as promoting the Christian religion on state land. I am a firm believer in the separation of Church and State, however as is often the case, the cross on Black Rock and the citizens of God's Country became the victims of someone trying to make a point and serving their own agenda instead of the public at large.
I don't know, but I am sure the person who brought the suit probably wasn't a resident of the town, but someone who heard about it or saw it passing through and decided they were offended by what it stood for.
For many years, we were without our cross. Somehow the nights seemed darker without that light standing guard over our town. The town went on, it didn't crumble, but when you looked to the mountains there was always something missing.
About a year ago, mama told me that the cross was back on Black Rock. I couldn't have been more happy.
This summer when I made my annual trek to God's Country, one of the things on my to do list was to see the cross. I had heard it was even more magnificent than it was when I was young.
Because of the torrential rains and flooding when I was there, I didn't get out much and a nighttime drive to see the cross was out of the question.
On the morning I left to come back to Florida the rains had subsided and a heavy coating of fog coated the countryside. As I was making my way down Smith Hill leading to the highway home, there it was.... the cross.
Caressed by a blanket of fog, the cross illuminated the landscape.
The cross now stands on land that is privately owned so as not to interfere with any one's "personal liberties," but it stands and it glows!
That cross that for so many years burned with radiance, was dark and now glows again, the cross still stands.
I got a sense of peace driving out of town that morning after seeing the cross. Once again the beacon had returned and it shined brighter than ever.
UPDATE:
One of my readers, Marianne Wilson, just sent me this photo of the cross on Black Rock. Now you can see for yourself how magnificent it is. Thanks Marianne!
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