Sean and I attended my cousin’s 16th birthday party at my aunt and uncle's farm yesterday. There was fried chicken, fried okra, and fried pie. Man, I love being from the South. There was also fishing, the wiring of huge speakers in my cousin’s new truck, and the installing of our joint family gift: Camouflage Seat Covers. Have I mentioned, I love being from the South?
It was a great evening and it reminded me how much I love the country. As I sat on the dock watching Sean fish, a faint smell of cow manure blew up my sniffer and it took me right back to “The Buffalo.” The Buffalo is the place of many childhood vacations. If I was lucky, I got to go twice in a summer, once in June and again in August. The Buffalo was a place where you'd bring your horses, ride trails, and camp out for a week. Highlights include riding my horse as he swam down the river, line-dancing every night to a live band, and laughing ‘till I couldn’t breathe after giving X-lax (under the guise of candy) to a man who really irritated me. (All but his pride recovered. Don't worry.) I also remember mud fights that included fistfuls of horse manure, late-night frog-gigging, and other classy American past times.
Tonight, as I watched my husband reel in his 3rd catfish, I took in the sights, the smells, and the sounds of the country. I wish we lived closer to land, closer to fishing holes, closer to wide-open pastures, and my gosh, I wish we lived somewhere we could go mudding. As a teenager, we’d leave school during lunch hour, go mudding and be back in time for the next class. Tonight as I listened to my cousin talk about mudding in his own backyard, I became jealous. Very jealous.
Sometimes I try to create a blueprint for my "heaven" in my mind. I know God needs no help, but I enjoy imagining, and I'm sure he gets a kick out of how limited my perspective is. But, regardless, here are some things from "my heaven."