I always keep pound cake ingredients handy because you just never know when an occasion will call for a pound cake and I need to be ready to stir up a little magic. Just the other day, we were invited to a church get-together and my pound cake was requested. I whipped it up in no time, and before I knew it the smell of delicious goodness was wafting through the air.
I packed up my pound cake so that it could travel down a bumpy dirt road and remain intact. You see, we had been invited to a Sunday School social that was being held 8 miles down a dirt road. This was an event I did not want to miss.
On the designated Saturday afternoon, we made sure we had plenty of gas in the 4-wheel drive truck. The pound cake was boxed up for protection. Cavin and I put on our best blue jeans and headed out to the country. Brewton is a small town, but don’t mistake it for “the country”. We live in town and can get to the nearest Walmart in 5 minutes. If we don’t want to fight traffic to get to Walmart, in less than 3 minutes, we can be at the Pik N Sav or Piggly Wiggly (aka Big Bear as it was called during my growing up years!).
As we headed out to the country, we made a turn onto the dirt road. The road was bumpy at first. Cavin pressed the pedal a little closer to the floor. I noticed the faster we went, the less bumpy it was. The road was dry which caused the dust to stir up a little as we drove deeper into the woods. I was glad it had not rained in the last few days so that we could lower the risk of getting our truck covered in mud, or even worse – getting stuck in the mud.
Cavin and I trudged into the unknown with little to see but trees and the dirt road ahead and behind. 8 miles may not seem like a long distance, but 8 miles down a dirt road might as well be 80 miles when you have no idea where you are going. Finally, we saw a house off to the left. We were relieved to see it because that was proof that we were not the first people to loom this far into the unknown. Just a little further past the house, we saw signs of life. We saw several trucks and the camp house where we would be gathering with friends. Whew… we had arrived at our destination and had not met up with a wild animal on our journey to the ends of the earth.
We were happy to hear laughter and see familiar faces. William had fired up his homemade grill and the smell of steak was filling the air. It was evident that this was going to be a great evening and it was worth the trek into the woods.
As is natural at this type of event, the men were mingling together telling hunting and fishing stories while the women chatted about life and kids.
I noticed kids playing in the dirt and it was obvious that they were having the time of their lives. They say that “play is the work of children,” and if that’s true, these kids were working hard. They were building roads and revving up their cars and trucks. They were serious about these dirt roads they were constructing. And you know… memories and friendships were being made that they couldn’t fully grasp in their young lives.
Most of these kids weren’t even in this world when we returned to my hometown 7 years ago for Cavin to serve as pastor of First Baptist Church. We visited many of these kids at the hospital when they were born. There’s just something about seeing a child grow up from birth to playing in the dirt… to who knows what lies ahead.
Kelly was in the kitchen preparing all the sides and making sure everything was perfect. The table had been set for everyone to have a place. I’m not exaggerating in saying that the table we sat at that night had to be one of the longest tables I’ve ever seen in my life. The guests were made to feel special on this night. We may have been deep in the woods, but this was a night that we would never forget.
Everyone had brought something to add to the meal. There was steak, bacon-wrapped deer meat, veggies, dips, soups, salads, rolls, and of course… all the Sweet Tea you could drink. I believe we could have fed all of Brewton that night if we could have figured out a way to get all 5,261 of them down that dirt road.
We ate off paper plates with the word “grateful” on each one. That was the perfect word for what I was feeling that night. I was grateful for what each person there meant to me on a personal level. I was grateful for the sound of laughter. I was grateful for the voices of kids playing. I was grateful for each food that had been lovingly prepared. I was grateful for friendships. I was grateful for a church that loves. I was grateful for families who place importance on their children knowing God’s love. I was grateful for the hope we have in Jesus, and it’s my prayer that each of these children will live to know and understand the Hope we have in our Savior.
On this particular night, we had the time of our lives. We had Sampled the South on a dirt road. Life is good, and I’m grateful!
Sampling the South… one dirt road at a time!