A couple of weekends have passed since a group of teacher friends gathered at JoAnn’s. I hear echoes of laughter and Kim’s occasional snorts. There was Charlene’s beach yoga (not that I got out of bed in time) and gluttonous consumption of Patti’s cookies and sweets. I savored witty banter with Carey as much as I appreciated our meaningful conversations. Joyce captured only what we wanted captured with her advanced photography skills. I was the getaway driver.

Oh yes- a VERY good time was had by all.

It’s a wonderful thing to be witness to our tornado talking. Four conversations swirling at once and each of us jumping in and out in a divine dance of the divas we were that weekend. Even though a few of our group were not with us, we tripped down our memory lanes, sharing good and bad in our lives for the last several years. When I couldn’t keep up, I simply listened, utterly mystified by their fabulousness!

The rise and fall of our voices would resound with giggles much like a punctuation mark at the end of sassy sentence. There was no competition to be heard, no tension to out-talk.

To be with them filled me with absolute joy. And calm. And peace. It was three days of resting in a circle of time-honored trust.

We wound things up with sighs of contentment for who we used to be and for who we are now … all the while promising to gather again soon. These brainy broads continue to teach me by example.

Charlene, Kim, Joyce, Patti, JoAnn, and Carey are each clothed in strength. Clothed in dignity. These FABULOUS ladies laugh a lot because they know it is always better than breaking down and falling completely apart. They understand fear of the future but choose faith. Each woman recognizes that when God is within her, she will not fail.

They are far more precious than jewels. These women know me well and love me anyway- because of all they know about me and because I may be the punch line to some of these infamous stories.
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They are powerful women. They refresh my soul.

Being with my sister Amy, my life-long partner in crime, has a similar effect. Amy and I reach MARVEL levels of awesome when we travel together and decide to combine forces. Anything can happen.

Take today’s ultimate goal- getting a flying palmetto bug out of my car.
-as we drove into a state park on Hunting Island.
-as we screamed and hollered at the top of our lungs.
-as we sat stoically still and perfectly silent as I drove back to Elise’s house.

Despite our best efforts, this bug had escaped into some special bug hiding place inside my car and was waiting to surprise us again. A palmetto bug by any other name is still a big, ugly, flying cockroach. South Carolina just likes to be fancy.

Amy and I are always better together even though she did try to throw the palmetto bug in my face.

Amy is a powerful woman.

Even though Amy and I were raised by beautiful women from our family, there was another equally impressive group of ladies who influenced my life: the Cordele moms of my childhood friends.

This iconic group always held us to high expectations -everywhere and all the time. They modeled grace and determination as they worked and worshiped in different churches but to the same holy God.

Powerful women like Miss Kay Hurt.

This beautiful mama to my childhood friends Sharon, Susan, Dana, and Virginia is celebrated as a kindhearted woman who gained honor among all the girls’ friends. She is remembered for noble things and how she set about her work vigorously. She loved each of us not only with words or speech but with her actions.

Sharon and I have a bond of childhood friendship that has withstood the test of time because it is rooted in our faith. This faith will now sustain Sharon and her precious sisters. They are powerful women just like their mama.

Great women of faith will come together to lift each other up.
Women of faith are powerful in their ability to continue traditions, to overcome sorrow, or to remind others to choose joy.

Powerful women are also responsible for calling each other out in love when we are wrong. We are commanded to forgive, to resist the desire to banish those we no longer consider close.

Women of faith are never more powerful than when we stand together. I am grateful when my friends- old and new- include me in their life and enfold me in their love.

As for sisterly love?
Stay tuned for how I get Amy back for throwing that big, ugly bug in my face…

It seems I can go home again.

My online graduate school journey eventually ran out of zoom, so I made a long overdue drive to the Loveliest Village on the Plains.

Auburn University was my home for six unforgettable years as I completed undergraduate and grad school from ’88-’94. I won’t say I did it all, but I can say I lived it up and made the most of every moment.

Some of the best times of my life.
Some of my hardest.

Auburn is a home to me, and my Auburn family is a communion of people around the world who share similar values. Auburn people can throw a WDE pretty fast when we spot our colors. I’ve found Auburn fans in Italy, Haiti, Costa Rica, Dominican Republic, and England. We love this university the way Bulldog fans love Athens, and the way Tech fans love their slice of Atlanta.

My AU family grew last year as graduate school handed me a diverse group of colleagues who are sharp, oh so funny, and eager to embrace languages as much as I do. We might be a bit quirky, but we appreciate that unusual desire to navigate different languages as a profession. We share a passion for learning and sharing what we know in a world where language instruction is a bit of an enigma. We answer that relentless question, “Why would you want to learn another language when one is hard enough?

Our response is simple.
We want more.

-More combinations of sounds, accents, vowel blends, and nuances of vocabulary that are sung, said, or written through literature, science, math, or music
-More history and opportunities to meet unique people who share their stories through it
-More art in all its imaginative forms, including food and unusual works of art that transcend spoken word
-More culture and a multitude of perspectives that emerge through simple or complicated customs

We want more of our world and less of ourselves.

A few weeks ago, I approached the education building at Auburn hoping I would recognize something- anything. I swung open double doors to a swoosh of thirty-year-old memories and was pleasantly surprised that Haley Center has not changed too much. While Auburn’s campus doubled in size with beautiful new street designs and impressive architecture on every corner, HC stands near the heart of campus, not too far from our beloved stadium, Jordan-Hare.

Was what I felt simply silly nostalgia of an Auburn alum returning to campus? Another seminar took me back last weekend. I decided this isn’t nostalgia; it’s coming full circle. Coming home.

Recognizing those strange echoes of former years brings a smile, but I embrace them in the present. A personal favorite- my mild panic of being late while searching for classrooms in quadrant after quadrant. Some things have not changed. I inhale that intoxicating mixture being young and growing up. I still feel young-ish. I’m still trying to grow up.

My good and bad memories, accomplishments and regrets, twist together as bittersweet facts of life. Sometimes we learn the easy way and sometimes we must learn the hard way.

I know now I can go home again and build new memories upon old ones. Thirty years ago, I stood at a payphone in the basement of Haley Center when I received the news of the birth of my youngest cousin Adam. Last Saturday, I sat in class in this same building receiving texts and updates as Adam passed along news of the birth of his first child, Logan.

Curious, I rode the elevator up to the world languages department. My old GTA office is now a mail room. Another pleasant surprise- my current teaching assistant is an Alpha Chi alum like me.

I used to think my life ran like an arrow from point A to B to C, a sequential chain of events. Now, I see these lines embedded in circles that swirl in a loop around an infinite number of possibilities, some bringing me back to a starting place in a way I did not imagine for myself.

Staying on a straight line does not interest me anymore.

After classes, I drove back to Americus by myself, anxious to get home because my precious people were waiting there, too. Americus is home, but so is Cordele and Apalachicola.

Home is a choice. It is anywhere that I choose to take my faith and find family.
It’s when I stand in a circle of book club friends singing praise God from whom all blessings flow.
It’s where I laugh, cry, panic, and hug people who know my best and worst and love me anyway.
It’s why I work so hard and pray so hard and love so hard.
It’s Georgia, Alabama, Arizona, or North Carolina. It’s Haiti, Costa Rica, France, or Spain.
It’s how I feel when God places his gentle hand of Peace over me, asking me to rest a while in His grace.

Going home is not an Auburn thing.
It’s not even a Southern thing.
For me, it’s God directing my path.
He goes before me; I just have to follow.

P.S. War Eagle!
P.P.S. Thank you God - for Bob for knowing this about me and for giving us the chance to take home on the road every now and then.
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