Greetings Dear Reader,
The following tale is true. I am missing Avalon greatly today and attempting to dwell on good things.
The summer morning had dawned warm and steamy, baking the sun cracked asphalt of I-75 in South Georgia. The air conditioning seemed to do little to cool us as we traveled through the textile towns and peanut farms. My Bride, Sarah, and I were on the northern leg of our honeymoon, looking forward to the cooler temperatures as we reached the Blue Ridge Mountains.
Having grown up in Georgia, I was anxiously looking for and soon found a roadside peach stand. We pulled off the highway into the shade of its awning, drinking in the sweet smell of watermelon, Vidalia onions, and ripe Georgia peaches. We purchased a dozen peaches and a ten-pound bag of Vidalia onions. We filled our gas tank and consumed the first peach. It was liquid heaven, perfectly ripe and juicy. As we pulled back onto the expressway, we were devouring our second peach and its cool juices soothed away the heat or our afternoon.
Each morning for the remainder of our honeymoon, we ate peaches and thanked God for his foresight and wisdom in creating them. There were just three left and we decided to save them for the long drive home. Our last stop was in Cherokee, North Carolina, where we spent a day enjoying the light cool rain, quaint crafts, and gift shops. Afternoon was upon us and it was time to start the long trek back to our home in Chicago.
Seeing that the weather was not going to break, we decided to enjoy the drifting dark clouds by taking the Blue Ridge Parkway across the Smokey Mountains. On the northern side of the parkway, we realized that we had not had lunch and Sarah reached into the back and pulled the bag of peaches from the cooler. We were crestfallen as we saw that our peaches had molded and were completely inedible.
Seeing the potential for a cloudy moment to inhibit our joy, I told Sarah to toss the peaches, one by one, out the window down the mountain. I laughingly said that we could come back in a few years and see the peach trees we had planted. This attitude was infectious and we shared a very special moment as we realized that we had so many other things for which to be thankful. We enjoyed the rest of our lunch and the mountain scenery.
This event, however, still left me hungry for peaches. During the expedition, home we actually reviewed the eating of the nine we had so richly enjoyed. Each time I would end the conversation with, “But I would sure like to have one now.”
The following tale is true. I am missing Avalon greatly today and attempting to dwell on good things.
The summer morning had dawned warm and steamy, baking the sun cracked asphalt of I-75 in South Georgia. The air conditioning seemed to do little to cool us as we traveled through the textile towns and peanut farms. My Bride, Sarah, and I were on the northern leg of our honeymoon, looking forward to the cooler temperatures as we reached the Blue Ridge Mountains.
Having grown up in Georgia, I was anxiously looking for and soon found a roadside peach stand. We pulled off the highway into the shade of its awning, drinking in the sweet smell of watermelon, Vidalia onions, and ripe Georgia peaches. We purchased a dozen peaches and a ten-pound bag of Vidalia onions. We filled our gas tank and consumed the first peach. It was liquid heaven, perfectly ripe and juicy. As we pulled back onto the expressway, we were devouring our second peach and its cool juices soothed away the heat or our afternoon.
Each morning for the remainder of our honeymoon, we ate peaches and thanked God for his foresight and wisdom in creating them. There were just three left and we decided to save them for the long drive home. Our last stop was in Cherokee, North Carolina, where we spent a day enjoying the light cool rain, quaint crafts, and gift shops. Afternoon was upon us and it was time to start the long trek back to our home in Chicago.
Seeing that the weather was not going to break, we decided to enjoy the drifting dark clouds by taking the Blue Ridge Parkway across the Smokey Mountains. On the northern side of the parkway, we realized that we had not had lunch and Sarah reached into the back and pulled the bag of peaches from the cooler. We were crestfallen as we saw that our peaches had molded and were completely inedible.
Seeing the potential for a cloudy moment to inhibit our joy, I told Sarah to toss the peaches, one by one, out the window down the mountain. I laughingly said that we could come back in a few years and see the peach trees we had planted. This attitude was infectious and we shared a very special moment as we realized that we had so many other things for which to be thankful. We enjoyed the rest of our lunch and the mountain scenery.
This event, however, still left me hungry for peaches. During the expedition, home we actually reviewed the eating of the nine we had so richly enjoyed. Each time I would end the conversation with, “But I would sure like to have one now.”
After driving through the night, we arrived home at five in the morning, exhausted and road weary. We unloaded only essential items from the car and went to sleep. We awoke around ten to a day of ninety-degree heat and the chore of unloading a sun-baked black car. Hot and irritable, I grumbled about the heat and wished in my heart for peaches and the cool of the mountains.
All was unloaded and I ventured back into the assaulting heat to make one last check that all was unloaded. The back seat was empty except for one item. In the center of the seat sat one of the largest peaches I have ever seen. Excited and confused I rushed in to show Sarah the peach. We rehearsed the disposition of each of the peaches in our bag. We could not understand where this peach had come from. Together we stood over the sink in the kitchen, and enjoyed the juiciest, ripest, sweetest peach I have ever had. We thanked the Father for the unexpected gift. We are both convinced that it was He who put it there.
Wishing you joy in the journey,
Aramis Thorn
Mat 13:52 So Jesus said to them, "That is why every scribe who has become a disciple of the kingdom of heaven is like a home owner. He brings new and old things out of his treasure store."
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