It’s vacation time again and I’m thinking about all the souvenirs I collected on vacations past. Some I still have and others have traveled elsewhere, but it’s fun to remember them all.
The summer I was 12 my family took the longest, most memorable vacation ever. My dad spent all winter planning the route we would take, every site we would see, every motel we would stay in, almost every meal we would eat. Finally it was time for my two sisters and me to climb into our 1959 white Chevy station wagon, with a grill that looked like a giant steel emoji grin, and hit the road. Our journey took us from Tennessee to California and back in a huge loop through at least 10 states. Adventures and back seat squabbles abounded! But back to the souvenirs.
For years the bookshelf in my room held my treasured souvenirs from that trip. A favorite was a Native American doll from somewhere out west with a real suede dress, headband with feather, and her own metal stand. She was stunning. Next to her sat a three-inch high porcelain oriental doll from China Town in San Francisco. Never mind that I got to see my first stage musical, South Pacific, while in that city. I got to buy an oriental doll in China Town! But best of all, standing next to her was the small bronze donkey with “Pikes Peak or Bust” printed on the side.
Yes! I bought it at the top of Pikes Peak in Colorado, never imagining that 17 years later I would move to that state and then spend the next 47 years of my life (so far) living at the foot of America’s Mountain. Pikes Peak or Bust indeed!
Without a doubt I’ve spent more on souvenirs from adult vacations, so they may be nicer but not as memorable. I do remember a trip I took to Mexico with my two sons during my single parent days when I purchased souvenir Christmas gifts for all my family back in Tennessee from vendors on the beach. I shipped them all off, but at the last minute I decided that since the boys would be with their dad for Christmas, I would go to Tennessee. I hadn’t imagined actually having to watch my distinguished, always well-dressed, Southern-gentleman dad opening his multi-striped serape from Mazatlan!
A print from our honeymoon in Maui, a sculpture of a Native American man and his wife from South Dakota, and two oil paintings from Taos have always found spots in our homes. I still have silver jewelry from another trip to Mexico, porcelain rabbits from the flea market in Santa Fe, a menorah from Israel, and Murano glass jewelry from Venice. Yet as the years went by and our home got smaller, most of the souvenirs I’ve collected recently are smaller as well—magnets, shells, or post cards for the most part.
Recently we attended a 100th birthday party for a neighbor. Her family displayed a board containing post cards from all the places, all over the world, that she and her husband visited. It was really a display of memories. After all, the memories of each trip we take are the best souvenirs of all. Get out this summer and collect some more!
Also published in The Country Register, July-August 2024.
I live in Colorado where we might have crocuses peeking through the snow any day in May. But we can rely on the traditions May brings to assure us that while it may not feel like May outside, it really is the month predicted to follow April showers with flowers.
Cinco de Mayo also lets us know it’s May even if the weather outside doesn’t seem to agree. A Mexican holiday, it’s widely celebrated in the United States, especially in states like ours with large Mexican-American populations. Sometimes celebrated with parades and parties, the date commemorates the Mexican Army’s victory over the French at the Battle of Puebla on May 5, 1862. It’s a meaningful holiday for many, and a wonderful excuse for everyone to enjoy some tacos and enchiladas.
Do you know the Legend of the Dogwood? It’s just that. A legend. But it does add an element of spiritual significance to our enjoyment of one of the most beautiful trees of spring.
The legend says Jesus recognized the tree’s distress and to ensure it would never be used in such a cruel way again, decreed that from that day forward dogwood trees would be small and slender, often with a twisted trunk.
If you’ve ever looked closely at a dogwood blossom, you know there are four petals forming the shape of the cross. The marks in the center of each flower resemble nail holes. The edge of each petal has a darker tinge, symbolizing the blood shed by Jesus when He died on the cross for our sins. I love that part of the legend, so I think of it whenever I see a dogwood blossom. I add gratitude for my salvation to my enjoyment of the blossom’s natural beauty.
This year I was blessed to arrive in my hometown of Knoxville, Tennessee, just as the dogwood trees were at their peak. My sisters and I traversed as many of the designated “dogwood trails” in town as we could. I was always on the lookout for pink and white dogwoods adjacent to one another because I love the contrast. If a blazing azalea bush was nearby, so much the better!
Friends, it’s Friday, but Sunday’s comin’! Many of you may have heard this classic sermon from Dr. S. M. (Shadrach Meshach) Lockridge (March 7, 1913–April 4, 2000), but there’s no better time to listen to it again. He was the Pastor of Calvary Baptist Church, a prominent African-American congregation in San Diego, CA. Read his powerful words below, then search for “My King” by him on YouTube to hear his awesome, Spirit-filled delivery of this and other sermons.
He’s the highest personality in philosophy. He’s the fundamental doctrine of true theology. He’s the only one qualified to be an all sufficient Saviour.
His life is matchless. His goodness is limitless. His mercy is everlasting. His love never changes. His Word is enough. His grace is sufficient. His reign is righteous. And His yoke is easy. And His burden is light.
Just over twenty-four years ago we were all in a panic over what might happen when the clock struck midnight on December 31, 1999, and we plummeted into a new millennium. Yes, it was two dozen years ago that we were told to store up gallons of water and batteries before January 2000, and everyone everywhere was talking about all the bad things that might happen in Y2K. Guess what? The clock struck 12:01 AM and nothing significant changed.
