Auld Lang Syne

The good thing about being in a long pastorate is, you really grow to love your people. The bad thing about being in a long pastorate is... you really grow to love your people. Today I was reminded of how hard it is on the emotions to love them, and how much it means to have them love me too.

Pete, our most faithful, loyal member, stopped in to see me with his son-in-law. You see, they've been trying for weeks to get him to agree to a pacemaker. Today the doctor said they need to do it NOW. Pete is 87, and has been slowing down tremendously, but still keeps working hard at church. He opens up every Sunday and makes sure things are set up right. He picks up afterward and locks up when everyone's gone. The church is his life, and he does all he can for this congregation and for his pastor. When I came to Martin Luther, he wasn't so sure about this whole "woman pastor" thing. But now I think I can honestly say Pete loves me more than anyone else in that whole congregation - which is saying a lot! Every time he says good-bye he tells me he loves me - just like my Dad does.

Anyway, I digress... Pete has been slowing down even more than usual lately, and it seems that has a lot to do with the fact that his heart rate is half what it should be. Hence the need for the pacemaker. But he doesn't want to do that - he wants them to fix the other stuff wrong with him, not realizing its all connected. So he wanted to talk to me about it and get my advice. I talked to him about how this is not to make his life longer, but to make his life better. After some more involved conversation, he agreed to get the pacemaker. And Billy, his son-in-law, was relieved to finally hear him agree.

So as we prayed and hugged and told each other we love each other, it hit me how hard it is to love so many people sometimes. Not hard in the difficult sense, but hard because there are always good-byes and risks and so much involved.

Just after that, I was going through an old directory with a couple of women in the office, and seeing so many people whose funerals I've done over the years there. I also really saw how much older so many of those folks are now than they were just before I got there (when this directory came out.) Time does march on, and it's not always kind. We've been very fortunate the last few years to have very few funerals in the congregation. Somehow I have the feeling that may not be the case this year.

So yes, it is good to grow to love my people so much, but it's hard too. And yet, I wouldn't change a thing about that. Because with the love comes blessing. Every one of these people has blessed me in some way - some more than others. So on this New Year's Eve, as I consider the year past and the year to come, I thank God for all those people (even the ones that really ARE hard to love.) Auld Lang Syne!

Best way to experience the South!

Time to relive my last full day in Biloxi. Since my gambling was less than successful, what better time to do some exploring of the South? My plan was to drive east and see what I encountered - possibly going all the way to Mobile so I could check Alabama off my list too.

During my previous drive to the west, I kept seeing Waffle Houses.... 4 of them in a 20 mile stretch. They have more Waffle Houses than we have Walgreens! So I knew I had to do Sunday breakfast at the Waffle House, and the one in Ocean Springs was the first I came across on my eastward trek.

My mouth was watering... I remembered reading about the Waffle House on a local news anchor's blog, and was ready to check it out myself. According to Vinny, it's a classic, so it must be good, right? Let me tell you, you've not experienced the deep South until you've gone to a Waffle House on a Sunday morning.

As soon as I walked in, I knew it wasn't Denny's or Country Kitchen. The combined smell of grease and cigarette smoke made me lose a little of my appetite, but I bore on. It reminded me of some houses I've visited over the years - often in poorer homes, where there has been years of grease & smoke built-up. There were only a few booths - all full - but I wanted a counter seat anyway. Gotta do it right, right? I chose a spot on the corner, and quickly noticed that each counter seat had its own ash try with a mixture of old butts in it. I was also obviously not a regular there, as many of the folks seemed to be. No greetings, but lots of looks.

The man sitting two seats away was a definite heart attack waiting to happen. He was a very large, round man - so round that even his arms and shoulders formed the giant ball that he was. I noticed his breakfast consisted of a chili omelet, accompanied by a big bowl of chili covered in cheese, and a pork chop smothered in jalapenos on the side. Call the paramedics! The teenage waitress clearly knew him well, as she stopped to eat bites of his pork chop off his plate frequently. There was quite an ongoing conversation about his work hours being much worse than hers... after all he'd been up for hours already and hauled a couple loads of firewood. Eventually his wife came to join him, but moved on to a new conversation with the couple at the other end. This was definitely a social club that I was not part of.

Eventually my own breakfast showed up, minus the bacon. My waitress made it clear to the cooks that she had it written on the slip... and they better get it done soon! In the meantime I started in on my own omelet and hash browns. The butter base on the plate made me a little leery - my doc would NOT have liked my choices. As I bit in though, I wondered if it really was butter... or lard. There was a distinct taste of lard, or maybe it was the taste of stuff made on a griddle that hadn't been cleaned in ages. It reminded me of Mom's fried foods growing up - using the bacon grease in the old cast-iron skillet and rarely washing it unless she cooked something with a sauce or something that burned. (That's how a cast-iron skillet gets "seasoned.") Growing up, I was used to that. My stomach isn't so cast-iron itself any more. About halfway through, the bacon arrived - very crisp and not much lean among the burned fat. Ahhh... that's the taste right there! Now I recognized it for sure. I couldn't eat much more than half of my breakfast (and for those of you who know me, that's saying something) but I was definitely no longer hungry.

Yes, I was truly in the South. And I began to understand why Mississippi is always listed as the fattest state in the nation. But hey, I wanted to try the Waffle House, and I'm still glad I did.

Off down the road I went. I stopped at a State Park on the Bayou, but the hiking trail only took me about 10 minutes to finish. No working off the cholesterol laden breakfast there. Further down state highway 90 I drove. After a while, I realized that I'd pretty much just keep seeing strip mall after strip mall. There were a few interesting things to note, e.g. the flocked Christmas tree stand with the pink flocked tree out front. I mean really... flocked trees are bad enough, but pink? PINK?? Maybe its a southern thing.

About this time, my stomach was really starting to revolt against the breakfast, so I decided it would be wise to head back to my hotel. Alabama would have to wait for another trip. On the way back, one more strange site.... a really smashed up car in the middle of the median (looked like it had been compressed from all sides) with a sign in front that read "Are your children buckled in?" Really? Am I the only one creeped out by this?

OK, so Mississippi won't be on my list of places I want to move. But I did have a great experience later that afternoon. After taking a little time to make sure all of my breakfast had worked through (fairly quickly, at that...) I decided to walk the bridge from Biloxi to Ocean Springs. It is the coolest bridge! The original one was destroyed by Katrina, but it's been rebuilt bigger and better. You can google Yahoo Images to find Biloxi Bay Bridge or here's a link to see it: http://www.flickr.com/photos/29371377@N04/3020014496/

It was clearly a regular route for walkers and joggers, and I stopped one woman to ask how long it was. 1.7 miles each way, so a perfect 3.4 mile walk for me. They had a pretty wide walkway that was well-separated from the six lanes of highway. It was also perfect for my usual treadmill routine. A steady and increasing incline to the very high center, then downhill to the other end and reversed coming back. I worked up quite a good sweat, despite the incredibly strong winds off the Gulf. I'm sure I didn't work off much more than the hashbrowns from the Waffle House, but at least I felt better!

Overall, I really did have a good trip and I'm glad I have now been to the Gulf. There's no real overwhelming need to go back, but then again Jimmy Buffett's Margaritaville Casino is being built and scheduled to open in 2010. That may be worth the trip back.....

What a difference a day makes!

Yesterday was my day to try to get things accomplished. I have a whole long list of things to get done this week after Christmas (including the promised blog entry on Biloxi and my Waffle House experience...) Top of the list was to go downtown and pay my property taxes. What a miserable experience!

I got down there late morning and drove around for a good half hour/45 minutes trying to find a parking place. Every spot for taxpaying was filled for blocks.... I had no change to pay for meter parking anywhere further away and I was NOT going to use a credit card to pay for $1 of parking time. Why those new machines are rigged to take only coins or credit cards, and not bills, is beyond me! And by then I was so crabby anyway that I sure didn't want to stand in line for an hour, fuming. So I decided it would be well worth my time to make another trip down a day later.

Today I went prepared. I had $2 in quarters in case I had to park far away and plug a meter. I had a book along to get me through a long wait in line. Didn't need either one. There was a spot opened up for me right in front of the door! (And many others that I saw when leaving too.) I even managed to pick the fast lane that had TWO stations open for paying, so I was in and out in less than 10 minutes. Could not believe it!

Plus, I got to pay directly to the City Treasurer himself. I'm thinking he must be up for re-election this year, so he was at the table where I paid. Granted, the other guy sitting there did all the work. But the City Treasurer, with his big ol' nametag, made sure to shake the hand of every one at that table after they handed over the check, and said "Thank you!" I told him it was nice to meet the man to whom I wrote out a check every year, and happily went out to my car smack dab in front of City Hall. Done for another year, and you can be sure next year I will NOT go on a Monday.