JUDY JEREMIAS
Epiphany in the Ordinary:
Memories and Milestones  

Frank Jones/Josie Barnhart We have two signs in our yard. Well, three if you count the garden flag that says "grateful, thankful, blessed." The signs I'm talking about are campaign signs. You won't find a sign for every candidate of a certain party. And you won't find a sign endorsing anyone we do not know personally. So, this election season there are two: Frank Jones and Josie Barnhart, both of whom we have known for a very long time. Frank and Sharon Jones are part o

She was the coolest girl in youth group and I was the transplanted Alabama bumpkin in my Jean Louise (Scout) Finch era, but she opened her willowy arms and gracefully welcomed me into her world. We were joined at the hip but she was much more hip than I. She tied her shirts above her belly button and I wore smocked yellow gingham baby-doll tops. She layered graphic tee's (before anybody called them that) with snap-front brown and orange color-blocked western shirts; I dresse

We are not "go to the cemetery" people. Please know that I mean no disrespect to those who visit the graves of their loved ones often. Distance has a lot to do with it. There are hours between us and Parklawn. And there's always been this deep place where I know that Mama and Daddy will not be found at the graveside. But we were close by this week and made plans to stop there on the way out of town. We found ourselves winding our way out Peters Creek Parkway early this

About a year ago, my family entered a painful season. The full story is not mine to tell but suffice it to say our hearts were broken in ways I could never have imagined. The story I can tell is that even in the darkest days God never deserted any of us and we have come to a new understanding of his love and grace and mercy. And I can testify from up close that he is still in the business of restoration and healing. Praise God! Let me say that louder... PRAISE GOD! Last

Photo by Evan Smogor on Unsplash One of my favorite things to do with Mama was to get up early on Saturday morning to go sailing. And by sailing, I do not mean that we went out on the water in a boat for a thrilling ride. We did not plot a course and unfurl our sails into the wind. We did not check tides and currents. But we did have adventures. We would scour the newspaper ads the night before and carefully plan the route we would take through the neighborhoods of Winston

Smoky Mountains, Tennessee - Photo by Stephen Ellis on Unsplash Rocky Mountains, Estes Park, Colorado - Photo by Peter Pryharski on Unsplash Growing up in Northeast Alabama, "the mountains" meant the Great Smoky Mountains in our neighbor-to-the-north, Tennessee. The Smokies look ancient and worn like tired hump-backed giants napping under a blanket of trees and shrubs. Spruce, fir, maple, ash, oak, pine, poplar and hemlock flow down the slopes, seasonally accessorized by