Early in the morning we’d pile into the car and head to the
Then we’d head to the small town – literally a one-stoplight farming community – a couple of counties away. It’s where my parents were raised and where much of my extended family still lives.
The drive seemed like forever, but it was actually an hour or less from the paved state highways to the dusty gravel roads that took us to either of my grandmothers’ homes or the home of my aunt and uncle. At my paternal grandmother’s home we’d head for her old-fashioned cookie jar, almost always filled with oatmeal cookies.
My maternal grandmother lived just down the street and we loved going there because her home was more interesting. She had a big, fluffy cat named Snipper that we loved to play with. On a good day she’d pull out a big Mason jar of peaches she had canned.
Sometimes we’d visit my dad’s sister, other times we’d visit my mom’s brother. They were the aunts and uncles who had kids the ages of me and my sisters, so there was more for us to do.
We rarely had meals on our visits, but something was always offered, whether cookies or peaches or something else someone had just made or bought.
I still think of Sunday as a day for rejuvenation. But I’ve moved from the
Wherever we are, whomever we’re with, we’re grateful for God’s many blessings.