DOWN TO MISSISSIPPI

Really? That's new.

God doesn’t go as the crow flies, and neither does United Airlines. My day yesterday started in Johnstown, PA. We took off, flew for ten minutes at an altitude of 5,000 feet (barely clearing some very tall trees), and landed in Altoona, PA. There, three people got off, and three people got on.

So it was a wash.

Even though I had just received the information in Johnstown, I once again had to learn, from a trained professional working from a script, how to fasten and unfasten my seatbelt. I paid close attention, just in case there was something I’d missed all these years.

There wasn’t.

From there, all 18 of us flew to Dulles International Airport, in Washington. So far, the general direction of my journey was not south, but rather north and east. This was remarkable, seeing as though Gulfport, Mississippi, my destination for the day, is about as south as one can get in this country. 

I wish.

A man I know asked God for revelation. The Ruler of the Universe sent him into the World Wide Church of God (a cult) for ten years. Only then, after ten years of bondage, did He show him truth. Did God answer the man's prayer? Yes, just not directly. Why would God do something like that? God is in the business of setting up contrasts. Without the contrast of spiritual bondage, the revelations of grace never really stun us. So God is doing this for us, not to us.

The same cannot be said for United Airlines.

I have some great news for you. En route from Washington D.C. to Houston (What? You thought I would go directly to Gulfport, Mississippi, from Washington, D.C.?), I wrote eight new “Crack O’ Dawn Report” scripts. That’s right, folks. I had decided—as I was circling the 21-laps-to-the-mile indoor track at the YMCA on Thursday afternoon (I believe the revelation occurred on lap 88 of 126)—that that my heart’s desire was to resurrect the show everyone tells me they miss.   

Self-portrait; Houston Intercontinental Airport.
Friday, April 26, 2013. (Click photos to enlarge.)

Stay tuned for more details.

Anyway, after three lovely hours in Houston (no tongue in cheek there; I'm generally happy wherever God places me), I took off for Gulfport—this time arriving there.

Sparky (Tom) Purcell, two of his sons, and his wife Cassie, met me at the airport. What a lovely family. We dropped Jake off at his aunt’s for the weekend, and off the rest of us went to Shaggy’s, in Biloxi, a hip little eatery right on the beach—the Gulf of Mexico beach, that is.

It was dark by the time we get there. A full moon glowed upon the black, rippling waters of the gulf. I love water. I love heat. The moon, I can tolerate. Palm trees, however, do it for me every time.

Sparky and Cassie at Shaggy's.

"Stubby" at Shaggy's. I have really taken to this kid,
and vice-versa. ("Stubby" is his nickname. I will
get his real name to you forthwith.)

Your's Truly, laid back at Shaggy's. The Gulf of Mexico
is back there somewhere. 

Enjoying good fellowship here today. Rumor has it we are going to a fish fry this afternoon put on by a group of Mormons. Sparky asked me, “Do you mind eating fish cooked by heathen?”

I said, “Nope.”

(... to be continued ...)

© 2013 by Martin Zender