Hi! High Point!

One of the highlights of my childhood was going to my Uncle's farm.  We knew we were close when we could see High Point in the distant sky.  Whoever saw it first got the honor of leading the family in song, "Hiiiiiii, High Point!"  I remember going to High Point for a picnic one day.  It was so windy we had to huddle in the back seat of the red station wagon to eat our hotdogs that my father cooked over a small charcoal fire in the picnic area of this beautiful state park.  My father packed the station wagon, drove the car, made the fire, cooked the hotdogs, put the fire out, drove back home and unpacked the car.  My mother bought the food, packed the cooler, dressed us children (five of us), then unpacked the cooler, unpacked the children, bathed the children and probably dropped into bed.  It almost doesn't seem worth it for them.  But I am here to tell you that the effort was worth more than they could imagine.  My heart is still warm on the inside and my mind swims in feelings of joy, mingled with love so deep that it convinces me our souls are sealed in a place that only Christ can touch.  Thanks Mom.  And Dad, till we meet again...