South

My parents come from the South.  My grandparents grew up in the Deep South.  My great grandparents were founding fathers and mothers.  Yet when I go to over to Four Corners and visit my cousin I am just a visiting Yankee.  I don’t talk quite right. I don’t walk quite right.  I don’t even slow myself down right.  Everything I do and am screams Yankee.  Yet in my heart the resonance of the South is harmonious with my soul.  It is as if I understand, respect, and enjoy being back in the land of my roots.  I am reluctant to push the link too far but there is something some ties me to the land of my fathers and mothers. 
 
I know it is easy to feel lost and alone.  Having parents from one place, a birth place as opposite as is possible, and wondering here and there between then and now, I know that the South is not my home.  I linger in the reflection of my bond with my parents and think of my Divine creator.  It is as if my body echoes the words of Jesus when he was questioned about his foundation.  “I come from him [God]—that's how I know him.  He sent me here.”  (John 7.28)
 
I wonder if the difference in knowing my past, foundation, and roots will touch the present.  It could and should.  Everything that was and is can play a part in making the world different.  We can revel in the fact that we are God’s created.  We can celebrate the fact that we are God’s children.  We can do something with the rich heritage, sense of being, and longing within.  We can; will we?
 
I meet those who have known the family for years and it is as if we have met somewhere before.  I wonder if I realize that everyone who crosses my path is a brother and sister of mine; we are, all of us, God’s children.  Today I will share God’s love, warmth, and wonder with the brothers and sisters I meet.