Arkansas and Nashville

From Texas we travelled upward through Oklahoma.  In Oklahoma we stopped for lunch at a dirty diner and had our grilled cheese sandwiches served by a surly waitress wearing mens sweatpants and a Nascar t-shirt.  Once our fine dining was over is was Arkansas or bust for us and by evening we began to see the lake which was in my grandparents backyard.
It had been ten years since I had seen my mom's side of the family and though I thought of them, I didn't really miss them.  Not until I stepped into my grandma's living room and saw them, then I missed them so much it was tangible.  When I was a little girl I used to visit my grandparents and all of my cousins and we would band together to terrorize the grown ups.  But as I grew up they all moved from California and Arkansas and I became used to their being gone.  Sitting in their living room and seeing the years that I had missed, etched in the lines of their faces, I was reminded that I had put my family too low on my priority list.  I missed years of their lives that I could never get back.  I scarcely ever called them.
Sitting there in their living room and seeing my grandmother's antiques which I recalled seeing as a child and hearing them talk reminded me that I am not complete without my family.  They are an answer to the question of who I am.  I am my father's daughter and take after him so strongly that I forget that I am related to my mother's side of the family.  I am blond and blue eyed with a beak for a nose but they have the dark hair and milky brown eyes, displaying our Irish and Cherokee heritage.  But being there with them made a piece of my puzzle fall into place.
My cousins visited and they all had kids of their own though the last I had seen them they were just kids themselves.  There were three babies on the quilt laid out on the floor, rolling about and playing with toys.  I sat Jack down with them and watched the little ones play as I listened to my family talk.  I felt a glow of love and warmth just being there around them.  I had forgotten how much I love them.  My grandpa seemed happier and more chatty than I had ever seen him, he promptly asked my boys if they wanted to go fishing.  In less than five minutes they were outside with this great grandfather they just met fishing on the boat dock for the very first time.  They were happy as clams and could barely contain themselves when they each caught their very first fish.    I wanted to stay for days but I knew that time was of the essence and we had to press on the following day.  At noon we rolled out and said goodbye to my family and to beautiful Arkansas.

By nightfall we landed in Nashville, Tennessee.  The only hotel around with a vacancy was a Hilton, we were on a motel 6 budget but needed to get a room to give Jack his chemotherapy for the night.  I stumbled, bleary eyed into the hotel lobby and talked to the man behind the desk.  He had a thick Southern accent and was extremely polite and cordial.  He said their only room available was a handicap room and that he could give us a (huge) discount for the inconvenience.  Sold.  I helped Andrew drag our sleepy children up to the room.  As was custom, William literally ran for the nearest bed and fall instantly to sleep.  We followed suit.  Morning came too soon, we packed up our crew and with red eyes hit the road again.  We did need to make one very important stop before leaving Nashville.  We were told by some very good friends that we had to stop at a bbq restaurant called Jack's.  Because getting some real southern food was a must and because it was called "Jack's" we knew that we simply had to go.  Unfortunately, when we finally found it there was a line out the door and nearly around the block to get in there.  We drove around some more, determined to get some soul food.  What we did not know was that there the next place we found had the best kind of soul food there is.  We rolled upon another southern/bbq restaurant on another side of town which was also named "Jack's", though it was not affiliated with the other one.  We all got a good laugh at the irony of finding another restaurant sharing our son's name and jauntily skipped ourselves into that place. If you don't know this already, I am an old timey kind of gal and being in this restaurant that harked images of Fried Green Tomatoes made me a happy girl.  Then our order came and I was in food nirvana.  The majority of the people in the restaurant were African-American, so when our server with dreadlocks (who gave us free drinks because he is a dad and get what it's like to have three little ones) brought us our order, I was pretty sure that we were having some real, genuine soul food.  Sorry to stereotype, I'm sure there are some very nice white people who can cook up a good southern meal but well, some generalizations are true and this once is one of them.  We stuffed our faces and enjoyed every bite.  But the real soul food came after our meal was through.  It came in the form of an elegant woman with coco skin and soft, wise eyes.  She was dining with her family in the booth behind us and had walked to our table.  Without nervousness or stammered words she spoke to us a message that will be forever etched in my heart.  She said that Jack will be healed.  She said that Jack's veins will be opened and all blood flow will become free flowing.  She prayed for my family.  She also reminded us to keep asking, keep seeking and keep knocking and the door will be open to you.  Before we even began this trip, a kind woman from our church told us that we could expect people along our journey to come and speak God's truth over us.  And here, standing at our table was a woman of God, blessing this bedraggled white family with her wisdom and prayers.  That reminded us that we are not on a journey alone, God was with us and had planned everything.