Storyboards . . .

Today marks 8 months since the tornado ripped through Tuscaloosa, Alabama. I have lived in the Tuscaloosa area for a little over 9 years. When I moved here, I did not intend to stay. But as many things go, my plans changed and flexed and Tuscaloosa/Northport is now my home. So in the aftermath of April 27th, I was stunned to see the damage caused to my home city. 

Since April 27, 2011, much of my time has been consumed by Tornado Recovery work. It began immediately after the storm.  I had watched a tornado move through downtown Cullman about an hour or so before the Tornado hit Tuscaloosa. I watched the television as the storm approached. Right before I lost my TV signal, I saw enough to know to send a text message to the student residents at Canterbury Chapel that the storm was coming toward them. I then switched to listening to the radio, and listened as the newscasters described the Tornado moving through town and that it looked like it might have hit DCH Hospital and the University of Alabama. Though James Spann had not yet announced that I could leave my place of safety, I grabbed a flashlight and headed into town. I had no idea what I would find.

As I crossed the bridge into Tuscaloosa, I noticed that the street lights were out. I could see no damage and I breathed a sigh of relief when I could see that DCH Hospital was still standing. I turned off the main road to head to Canterbury Chapel. I was relieved once again to see that the Chapel was intact and to find the student residents there and safe. No one had any idea of the extent of the damage.

Two church members were at the Chapel, a gentleman named Thad, his daughter, and their dachshund. They had lived behind Hobby Lobby and their house was destroyed. They had walked/gotten a ride to the Chapel. Thad had blood on his shirt and a bandage on his arm. I sent someone to get a First Aid kit and a clean shirt. Thad insisted that he was alright, but I was doubtful because it was a lot of blood. When I pulled off the bandage, I knew immediately that Thad needed to go to the hospital. One of Canterbury's students was a nursing student. She cleaned up Thad's arm and put a new bandage on, and myself, Thad, and Holly, a law student, loaded up to go to the hospital.

When we got to DCH Hospital, they were in emergency mode. Thad was triaged and we were taken somewhere to wait. As we walked through the halls, there were people everywhere. We walked past someone who was on a gurney and being treated. That person's hand had nearly been severed. I kept my head down, and just kept walking. Once we were in the back, I watched as more and more folks came in. I talked to a guy that described his apartment complex in Alberta City being destroyed and having to pull someone out of the rubble. Thad was stitched up by a heart doctor. Doctors and nurses from all over Tuscaloosa County had headed to the hospital. And we managed to make it out of DCH in about 2 hours. The only information they took from Thad was his name, they didn't ask for any billing information. 

When it was time to leave, the nurse told me to go get my car and bring it to the back. She said that there was a crowd out front, and they didn't want us to walk through that. The nurse took me to a side door to get out. What I saw when I walked outside was a completely different world than had been there before. There were people everywhere. Folks with their kids, their dogs, with bags and suit cases. The National Guard was there, and I had to wait as a helicopter took off. When I got to my car, I was able to look down University Boulevard towards Alberta City. I could see a line of folks walking from Alberta City towards the hospital. I got into my car and picked Thad and Holly up and went back to to Canterbury. 

When I returned to the Chapel, there were a few more folks there. Marc, the Chaplain had arrived, as well as some more students. The power was still out. And the town was eerily dark. We sat around for a while. We ate what food was there, and shared some drinks. Almost everyone had been accounted for, though there were a few folks we couldn't get on the phone. We decided that it would be best to wait until the morning to go looking for them. A student named Wes came to me and said that he was going to try to go home. I asked him where he lived, and he described his apartment complex in Alberta City. I realized that this was likely the same Apartment complex that the young man at the hospital had described being destroyed. I told Wes that I didn't think he could go home tonight. 

I went home. I was drained. I had no idea what the morning light would reveal. 

And so began my Tornado Recovery work. The next morning I drove and walked to find the unaccounted for parishioners, all of whom were safe. For the next week, I worked out of Canterbury Chapel, coordinating sending supplies to areas where they were need. I attended meetings with clergy of the three churches, and somehow became the diocesan point person on the ground in Tuscaloosa. There were phone conferences, phone calls, and meetings. 

This eventually led to the creation of the Episcopal Tornado Recovery Cooperative. Before I knew it we were hosting our first out of town volunteer team. We were receiving donations, and we began figuring out ways that we could help the tornado affected areas. Then there were meetings with the Long Term Recovery Coalition of West Alabama, and being appointed as a Co-Chair of the Case Management Committee. I never knew one person could go to so many meetings. 

All of these meetings began to lead to real results. Real people helped. Real work done. And finally on December 1st, all these meetings resulted in the groundbreaking on a Habitat home. 

We began our first work day not at ground level, but having to dig below ground level. We dug in the dirt so that a foundation could be laid. On December 17th our starting worksite looked like this:

The foundation had been laid, and it was time to start building up. First one wall went up and then another. 

The way we built these walls was by using "storyboards." These were literally boards that were laid out along the outside of the building that were labeled with what was supposed to be there. These storyboards were in one sense the story of the house. They told the story of how each wall was built. 

But this wasn't the whole story. The rest of the story of this house began on April 27th when the homeowners survived the storm, though their home was destroyed. The story of these house includes all those meetings, and all the work of Habitat and of volunteers to get this house built. The story includes Amy, one of the homeowners, driving nails to build the walls that will soon be her living room. Following all these stories, this was the house at the end of our workday on December 17th:

Eight months after the storm, it is this picture of hope, this story of a home that I would rather tell. While that monster tornado in the first picture is certainly part of the story of this house, it is overshadowed by the story of hope that these walls and rafters tell. 

It ain't over til it's over . . .

Photo by Kelley Hudlow 12/24/2011

At nearly 9 p.m. on Christmas Day, many folks (including me) are sighing with relief that Christmas has arrived and is soon to be in the past. I have followed the posts on Facebook as friends with children have documented the joy and excitement of little hands tearing into wrapping paper, and others have shared the feasts that have been prepared, presented, and partaken. A lot of work goes into those few hours of joy. From the day after Thanksgiving until Christmas Eve, most folks run the rat race of the "Holiday Shopping Season." There are preparations for relatives and friends. Activities at work, school, and church. There is a lot to do in the Advent Season, and the time of quiet preparation is lost.

So at the end of it, most folks are ready for a break. A rest before the festivities of New Year's Eve celebrations begin leaving Christmas behind. A rest before life returns to "normal."

But for those of a liturgical persuasion, whose calendar is not just filled with government holidays, but with the Seasons of the Church Year, there is still something special. While the rest of the world rests from a season of spending and craziness, liturgical folks are just beginning the celebration. For Christmas Day is the first day, and there are eleven more to go.

That means eleven days of still singing Christmas carols, if you are so inclined. Eleven days of enjoying your Christmas tree, without worrying if you have enough presents under it. Eleven more days to celebrate the joyful outlandishness of Christmas. That God came to live among his in the form of a baby born to a teenage girl while on the road. And that all our hope for salvation is found in this fragile little child.

So it ain't over until it's over.

In traditions gone by, the end of Christmas was marked by a Twelfth Night celebration on January 5th. A celebration filed with drink and cheer, and a "king cake." The person that got the bean or trinket in the cake was the King of the festivities. The Twelfth Night marked not only the end of Christmas, but also the end of a winter festival that began on All Hallow's Eve, where the Lord of Misrule was in charge. This time was a celebration of the world being turned upside down. A fitting celebration for the birth of Jesus.

The birth of Jesus has turned the world upside down. It is the beginning of new creation. It is the reversal of order that Mary sang about In Luke 1:46-55:

‘My soul magnifies the Lord, 
   and my spirit rejoices in God my Saviour, 
for he has looked with favour on the lowliness of his servant.
   Surely, from now on all generations will call me blessed; 
for the Mighty One has done great things for me,
   and holy is his name. 
His mercy is for those who fear him
   from generation to generation. 
He has shown strength with his arm;
   he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts. 
He has brought down the powerful from their thrones,
   and lifted up the lowly; 
he has filled the hungry with good things,
   and sent the rich away empty. 
He has helped his servant Israel,
   in remembrance of his mercy, 
according to the promise he made to our ancestors,
   to Abraham and to his descendants for ever.’


So rest tonight, but don't move so quickly through Christmas. Celebrate all the way through. The celebration of Christmas marks God's love breaking into the world.


Merry First Day of Christmas!

The peculiar role of Deacons

So one of the things that Deacons are called on to do is serve in diocesan services, such as ordinations. It usually takes a few of deacons to do this. A Deacon to read the Gospel and set the Table. And a Deacon for each Bishop. Deacons assigned to tend to the Bishops are called "Bishop's Chaplains." And it looks something like this:

That's me to the left of the very tall bishop

Now if you look carefully, you can observe the main function of the Deacon as "Bishop's Chaplain," namely holding things. I am holding Bishop Sloan's mitre, while my partner in crime Deacon Judy Quick is holding Bishop Parsley's mitre and crozier. 

So now for some Episcopal lingo. 

A mitre in simplest terms is a hat. It is signifies that the wearer is a Bishop, and is often said to represent the tongues of fire from Pentecost.

A crozier looks like a shepherd's crook, and that is the general idea. It is also something that is particular to a Bishop. A Bishop is the shepherd to his assigned flock, usually a Diocese. 

The mitre and the crozier are signs of a Bishop's authority. For example, in the above picture you may notice that there is only one crozier involved. That is because currently Bishop Parsley is the diocesan bishop, meaning he is the Bishop in Charge. Bishop Sloan is currently the Suffragan Bishop as well as the Diocesan Bishop Elect. Bishop Sloan is a Bishop, and therefore he has a mitre, but he is not the top Bishop. 

Just about everything that Episcopalians do has meaning. So what is the meaning of this hat holding? Well the mitre and crozier are symbols of authority. Deacons have a special relationship to Bishops, and serve directly under the Bishop. So when it comes to holding onto the symbols of authority of Bishops, Deacons are the liturgically obvious choice.

Now before you dismiss service as chaplain as simply being a matter of holding stuff, you have to also understand that there is a lot of putting miters on and taking them off. . .

So the Bishop's Chaplain has to be on the ready to pass off and take on the mitre and crozier. There is also a lot of standing. 

Now on this particular occasion I was happy to serve as the Bishop's Chaplain. It got me front row seats for the ordination of priests, including The Rev. Katie Nakamura-Rengers, who I serve with at St. Michael's. So in exchange for some standing, holding, and waiting, I got a front row to this:

Which was a pretty neat thing to take part in. 

Diggin' in the Dirt

Today was the first Habitat build day for the Episcopal Tornado Recovery Cooperative. It was a clear day with plenty of sunshine, which was important since it was also very chilly. We began the day with getting our objectives: (1) dig and square out trenches and (2) put in steel for footings. As I listened to Brandon, our fearless Habitat Leader, explain the work we were about to do I was certainly skeptical that we would even get the trenches done. And I wasn't the only one that was a little doubtful. But in spite of our uncertainty, we bravely hopped in the trenches and started the work. We worked hard. At one point I put down my shovel, and climbed out to take a break. I was certain that it must be 10 a.m., but I was very surprised to look at my watch and see that only an hour had gone by.

I jumped back in the trench. There were the sounds of shovels and a pick ax. Some taking, but mainly just digging. A back hoe was brought in to help in the digging. By the time that Elizabeth from Canterbury showed up with lunch at 11:30 we had gone from digging to laying the first layer of steel for the footings. I was amazed to see the progress that was made. In a matter of minutes work had shifted from quiet digging, to voices calling out for rebar with 2 foot or 4 foot or 8 foot bends. A team was tasked with hearing the requests, measuring the steel, and with a little brute force, bending the steel.

Elizabeth brought sandwiches and brownies. And this was probably the best sandwiches I have had in a while. Once our stomachs were full, back in we went. Another layer of steel. Hammering in grading stakes. And constructing the special footings for the "Safe Room." Habitat has committed to putting a safe room in each house they build. The family that we are building this house for are tornado survivors. Their home, which was about a block away from the Habitat site, was completely destroyed on April 27. Mom and 2 of the kids were picked up and carried to Alberta Elementary School. One child was found in the debris at the home. It was 24 hours before all the kids were accounted for and the family was reunited.

The family was on site doing their sweat equity work. The helped with laying the steel, and also began building a storage shed for their new home. It was a wonderful day.

I used to joke that Episcopalians don't build houses, they write checks. We certainly were able to write the check for this home, and today we proved that we could also build a house.

We will be back next week, and with any luck we will be raising walls.

I'm tired. I'm sore. Muscles hurt that I didn't know that I had. But it was a great day.

Work Site at Start of Day

Work Site at Close of Day

This will become the Safe Room

Our Work

Our Work

"He Got Rose!"

Last Sunday, St. Mike's had a special Halloween Kids Sermon. Katie did a great job getting the attention of all the little ghouls and goblins. The subject of her sermon was the Resurrection, with a hint towards All Saints Day. Basically, she invited the kids to explore the ideas of ghosts and zombies (which are all the rage these days), and how those ideas differ from the truth of the Resurrection of Jesus and the ultimate Resurrection of all believers. 

So the discussion began of how Ghosts are scary because they are people that don't have bodies. Zombies are scary because they are people that have bodies but not souls. But should we be scared of Lazarus or Jesus? What makes them different?

Well the answer was quickly discovered that the difference between the scary ghosts and zombies and the Risen Jesus, was that Jesus was a person that had both a soul and a body. He was a complete person. And while the fanciful tales of ghosts and zombies scare us, the truth of the bodily resurrection of Jesus and the ultimate bodily resurrection of us is not something to fear.

And when asked where the Risen Jesus is, and if we went to his grave would we find him, one in the group enthusiastically responded "No! He got rose!" Perhaps the most concise statement of the Resurrection I have heard. 

And as I get ready for St. Mike's observance of All Saints Day tomorrow, I remember my loved ones that have left this world. I also remember all those that have gone before me, known and unknown, that have journeyed on a path of faith and service. I look forward with joy to the day that we all "get rose," just like Jesus.

What the HELL? Is it real and what does the Bible say about it?

This was the topic up for discussion at last week's Jesus on Tap. For those who don't know Jesus on Tap, it is a gathering of folks to discuss theology, faith, and the Bible over drinks. I guess it could be described as an alternative "Sunday School Class." It also has been my "Tornado Therapy." I started Jesus on Tap after the April Tornado. I had spent weeks doing hours of Tornado response work, and decided that I wanted to do something fun. And because I am in general a nerd, Christian Education seemed like fun. Topics have ranged from immigration, the Humanity of Jesus, paths to Salvation, and most recently the topic of Hell.

Now I have to admit that I had not previously spent much time contemplating Hell. I do remember as a kid attending a Baptist elementary school, being told stories of Hell and the Apocalypse. As an adult I dismissed worries of Hell by stating that it was a doctrine not necessary to Salvation. So when this topic was selected by the group, it meant I had some studying to do. And the weeks leading up to Jesus on Tap involved some interesting reading on the topic.

My exploration began with a book called The History of Hell by Alice K. Turner. I recommend this book, and felt that it provided an interesting discussion of the development of the ideas of Hell. I also looked to C.S. Lewis The Screwtape Letters, The Great Divorce, and The Problem of Pain. And a discussion of Hell in this post-modern period would not be complete without looking at Jean Paul Sartre's No Exit, which gives us the image of "Hell is other people."

From these sources, I considered the progression of our idea of Hell. From early in the Christian Church, writers did a good job imagining the pains and punishment that would be found in Hell. From the Apocalypse of Peter, which dates to the mid-2nd Century, where Hell's punishments are structured according to sins and Hell is administered by God's just but stern angels; to the Apocalypse of Paul, also mid-2nd Century, which describes a Hell as full of fire and extreme cold. These early extra biblical sources foreshadow the detailed account of Hell in Dante's Inferno. By the 20th Century, the fires of Hell were tempered into C.S. Lewis' Hell as bureaucracy and as a Gray City. Jean Paul Sartre gives us the notion that Hell is other people eternally examining our shortcomings.

Whether it's hellfire or the scrutiny of others, the horrors of Hell have been with us and have been something to be avoided. The Gospel of Nicodemus, a Sixth Century writing, details the Harrowing of Hell by Jesus during the days between the Crucifixion and the Resurrection. In this Harrowing, Jesus descends to Hell and removes from it those righteous Pagans and Patriarchs and Matriarchs of the Hebrew Bible. This combination of the Harrowing with the notion of Purgatory, show the Church's reluctance to damn everyone to Hell. Some early Church leaders went so far as to say that no one would ultimately be damned to Hell, not even Lucifer. Origen (c. 185-254) proposed that everyone would choose to repent, even Lucifer. If Christ died for all, and if God is infinite, then everything will naturally return at the end of time to be part of him. This idea was called "Apocastastasi" from the Greek meaning restoration, and was declared heretical at the Synod of Constantinople in 543. To try to make sure that Origen's ideas were thoroughly stamped out, the Church excommunicated him posthumously a total of five times.

In spite of the Church's attempts to suppress Origen's thoughts, it has reappeared over and over again. Now it is called Universalism, and its most recent appearance is in Rob Bell's book Love Wins: A Book About Heaven, Hell, and the Fate of Every Person Who Ever Lived. 

While the Harrowing of Hell has the benefit of rescuing folks that we are uncomfortable with sending to Hell, universalism has the opposite effect. If everyone is eventually saved, if Lucifer himself will even find salvation, then what about Hitler or Stalin? In spite of the horrendous deeds done in life, and the apparent lack of repentance, will they even have a chance to find salvation.

C.S. Lewis allows for some sort of second chance in The Great Divorce. Souls are kept as ghosts in the Gray City until they choose to be removed of their sins or vices and choose to leave the City. It is unclear whether all souls must make this choice, or if some get a fast track to Heaven. In The Problem of Pain Lewis makes it clear that "forgiveness needs to be accepted as well as offered if it is to be complete: and a man who admits no guilt can accept no forgiveness." Lewis goes on to say that there is at some point finality:

I believe that if a million chances were likely to do good, they would be given. But a master often knows, when boys and parents do not, that it is really useless to send a boy in for a certain examination again. Finality must come some time, and it does not require a very robust faith to believe that omniscience knows when.

Perhaps Lewis's most chilling image of Hell in The Problem of Pain is this: "I willingly believe that the damned are, in one sense, successful, rebels to the end; that the doors of hell are locked on the inside."

Does Lewis's image that the doors of hell are locked on the inside help us with the notion that there will be judgment and punishment? Does that make it easier?

If we adopt Universalism, and see that God will continue to reach out to us, as God has been doing since the beginning of Creation, and in the end all will find redemption, then what does that mean we are being saved from? If all will go to Heaven, then what is Salvation?

So I come to the end of this with more questions than I started. There are discussions of what we would describe as "Hell" in the New Testament. A place of outer darkness, a place of fire. Hell has been part of our faith from the beginning of the Church. And one question that I come back to repeatedly is if there is no Hell, can there be Salvation. If there is no Hell, what are we being saved from?

So I resign myself to the fact that there are many more questions to ask and things to explore, and that it may be more relevant to my belief as a Christian than I previous thought. 

"My fingernails are painted pink!"

That is what the little girl that was baptized today said to me during the Prayers for the Candidate. There we were standing at the font. We were serious about the work we were doing. Mom & Dad had their eyes glued to the Bulletin, so that they could make sure that they responded when they were supposed to. And in the midst of all this serious liturgy, Sydney, who is two years old, was very happy to proclaim that her fingernails were painted pink! And I couldn't help but smile.

This was my first Sunday at St. Michael's. 

The Gospel reading for today was the parable of the Wedding Banquet from Matthew 22:1-14. It is a strange reading. There is murder, burning of cities, casting into outer darkness, and gnashing of teeth. It is a story of a King trying to give a wedding banquet, but no one will come. When he finally sends folks out to invite everyone, he is able to fill the banquet. But then there is a curious part where he comes upon someone that is not wearing a wedding robe. That person is cast to "outer darkness." 

Now some folks posit that this ending to the parable as well as the line "Many are called, but few are chosen" are not part of the original parable. They look to a similar parable in Luke and the Gospel of Thomas (which is non canonical) that do not include the violence and exclusivity of Matthew's version of the parable. But is there something to be learned from Matthew's version? Perhaps it shows us that while the invitation to God's Kingdom is open to all, but we have to do something to be ready to accept the invitation. We have to say yes and live a life worthy of the Gospel. It also shows us that it is only the King who gets to decide who gets in and who is cast out. The servants job is to send the invitation, to make ready the banquet, but not to judge those that respond to the invitation. 

Whatever the lesson of the curious parable, one thing is for certain, Sydney was ready. She was in her pretty dress, and her fingernails were painted pink. She had gotten ready to respond to God's invitation. She put on her best (surely with help from her mom) so that she would be ready for her baptism. 

Dog Collars

All things bright and beautiful,

All creatures great and small,

All things wise and wonderful,

The Lord God made them all.

This morning I journeyed to St. Michael's for the Blessing of the Pets. My red dog Frankie was the lucky winner that got to make the journey. Both she and I put on our collars, and headed out. It was a beautiful morning. I take 171 to Fayette. It is a quiet curvy highway. And this morning it was filled with fields turning white, as the cotton has started popping out. 

Frankie turned out to be the right choice. She road in the car like a champ. Played with the other dogs. Looked curiously at the horses, and thankfully did not notice the cats or the parrot. She was blessed, ate some milk bones and had a grand time. 

Pet Blessings are really one of the most joyful things. You can't help but have fun when there is a parade of animals. It is a fitting tribute to St. Francis of Assisi. So many of the stories we have about St. Francis involve animals. Francis preaching to the birds and the Wolf of Gubbio to name a few. And it is a good a worthy thing to bless our companion animals. Our pets are gifts from God. They are examples of unconditional love and service. They remind us that we have responsibilities to take care of God's creation.

So thanks be to God for St. Francis and the reminder to find joy in creation and to accept the responsibility of being good stewards. And God bless Frankie, Lucy, Ally, and Zoe (the cat), who bring so much joy and humor into my life.

i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)

On Sunday October 2, 2011, I joined my Canterbury family to serve as a Deacon for the first and last time. It was a time for joy and celebration, but also sadness. That's me up there, serving as the Gospeller for the first time. The Gospel for the day was Matthew 21:33-46. And while I may not look so happy in that particular photo, I was truly full of joy. Check out this shot from the Celebration Coffee Hour. 

My Canterbury family has provided tremendous support for me on this journey. I don't think I would have made it to this smiling photo if not for them. Through prayers, love, and financial support they raised me up and got me through school. They helped me find joy in worship and service. And when I dreamed big dreams, they were always ready to go along for the ride. 


And then there are these guys:

This is a fair contingent of my acolyte corps. These guys were always ready to serve. And at this special Coffee Hour, they took it upon themselves to raise money for Canterbury's Meals on Wheels ministry. It has been a great joy to watch them grow.


Canterbury is an unique church. Both parish and college ministry. One of the things that we do best is recreating ourselves every Fall as new students come in. We work to support and love them. And after a few months or years we send them off into the world.


It is now my time to go into the world. I am sad to be leaving, but I have been made ready for my work of love and service because of my Canterbury family. When I think of leaving my Canterbury family, I keep coming back to a line from an e.e. cummings poem: "i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)." I know that no matter where I go, I will carry the heart full of love that I found at Canterbury with me. I will carry each person, each moment, each moment of joy and of sadness with me. And I know, just like I have told students as they have left to go on to new adventures, that I always have a home at Canterbury. It is just a phone call away. 


I am humbled by the love and support Canterbury has given me. I say thank you to them all. And I also vow to go into the world, carrying Canterbury with me, to do the work that Canterbury has raised me up to do. 


i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)

New Journey Begins!

That's me up there. The one giving Communion, wearing the striped red stole, and looking rather pleased with myself. Today was the culmination of several years of work and of twists and turns in my path. Today I was ordained a Deacon in the Episcopal Church.

The Diocese of Alabama pulled out all the stops for the new class of Deacons. We were a baker's dozen. Every seat in the Cathedral was filled. The Church did what the Episcopal Church is very good at, which is liturgy. Each Candidate was presented. Prayers were said and scripture read. Bishop Sloan preached a sermon that was full of joy and laughter. Then the Candidates went forward again, this time as a class. We knelt together, and one by one the Bishops laid their hands on us. And when we stood again we were Deacons.

Before I went forward to be ordained, I looked down the long pew and saw all the folks that I love and that love me sitting there. Genevieve & Graham, Mom, Dad, and Uncle Ken, Drew & Allison, Jon and other friends. I carried with me the prayers of those friends and family that could not be there. I also carried with me three very special things. My grandparents are all deceased, except my MeeMaw, and I wanted something of them with me. The Book of Common Prayer I carried was given to me by my grandmother Christine, I wore a ring with the family crest that my granddaddy Charles was so proud of, and in my prayerbook I carried a picture of my grandmother BeBe, her high school graduation picture.

It was a glorious day, and I don't think I have stopped smiling since. I am beginning a wonderful new journey. Maybe not so much a new journey and a turn in the road of a journey I have been on for a while.

So here we go . . .