FINGERLING FREEDOMS

Stretching across the grayish expanse of atmosphere the striations of ghostly white floated past the window of the US Airways airbus I was finally happily aboard. Floating through the misty skies toward the southeastern seaboard, I found myself nestled into the last row of seats.  Closing my eyes, I remember slightly more than 3 months prior, my leaving Savannah on a plane to California, post-vehicular 'mishap'.  My long awaited return to life on-the-road was actually happening.  So many lessons learned, so many moments of confusion ...and joy - the paradox of everyday life. Descending through the clouds the ocean below comes into view and with it the fingerling coastline of Georgia and Florida, peppered with the Golden Isle islands, salt marsh inlets and outlets.  My heart beats a little more quickly, my stomach doing a flip-flop or two.  How will it be to set foot in my humble little RV again?  Hoping, praying that all is well, safe and ready for the road again.   

My arrival in Jacksonville, Florida was only slightly late.  The weather, though slightly drizzly, was a good 50 degrees warmer than my morning wake-up in MN 6 hours earlier.  Nice!  The rental car was waiting and ready to go.  I was off on the 2-hour drive north to Savannah.  The routine of my journeying has mostly been on the off-roads of America.  This day was no exception.  My GPS navigating quickly became routine again.  The swampish countryside on this drive provided yet another peek, for me, into the cultural differences from the life that was mine on the the flat coal-black soil of the Iowa farmlife I knew as a kid. Crawfish festivals, sweet potato pie, shrimp and grits were no more familiar to me in my young days as a midwestern Scandinavian than was my lifestyle to the emancipated slaves and their subsequent generations of families and their white immigrant European owners of the 17th and 18th Centuries.  Cruising down the bayou roads, the road signage once more delighted me.  Preserved plantation homes, old slave cabins, shrimp shacks, and old weathered house boats were the points of interest that awaited me around each bend in the road.  My mind floated back to the movie, "Beasts of the Southern Wild", which I had seen a short 2 weeks prior.  The movie could have been filmed on one of the waterway inlets I passed, crowded with the shodden shacky boathouses of some southern soul or family.  Wondering aloud, I mused, "Well, look at that... who, dear God, lives in that water-world home over there?"  The reality of the needs of people in such diverse life situations all over this country stares me in the face and begs to be pondered.  Lord, give me the courage to be more understanding of people in this vast country.

Arriving around dinnertime in the beautiful city of Savannah, I wrapped my fingers a bit tighter around my steering wheel.  I was feeling a bit of anxiety about finding the Collision Center where Pedro was being mended over the past months.  My GPS was telling me that there was 'no match' for the address I was given for this "vehicle-healing business."  Widening my street search, I find the desired road and begin my search.  Voila, 15 minutes later, the lost is found and.... there sits my gleeming white Pedro with a shiny new front end. Yes!  Home!   I climb in, smile, then frown at the musty smell of a vehicle that's been closed up for months.  Throwing all the doors open, I begin my quick clean-up job, replacing the artifacts that littered the floor at the 'time of impact' months earlier.  Bed made, clothes transferred, I find a friendly cafe to celebrate and enjoy a nice dinner.  A few hours later, sliding into Pedro's cozy bed parked by the Collision Center's front door, I breath a prayer of thanks and fall quickly into dreamland. 

Just what are fingerlings?  I once made a dessert,(the name of which escapes me at the moment)that had fingerlings of sponge cake lining the vertical edge of the whipped cream-filled layers of cake -- a gastronomical delight.  I've often heard lakes referred to as fingerling in shape.  Of course, the term comes from the shape of our hands. 

The concept of freedom has been much on my mind as I have explored the southeastern U.S., an area rich in history, and the center of the story of freedom from slavery in the 1700's.  Of course, the movie "Lincoln" has added a great deal of interest to this period of America's history. I have been reflecting on my pilgrimage journey as the 'Freedom Fingerlings' of my current free-to-do-all lifestyle that I am currently living.  I have been, up, down and all-around.... in, out, and all-about in the past 8 months.  I have 3 months left on my declared journey.  It is re-making me, helping me to 'cross over' into the new life of singlehood, once more.  I am richer, more content, stronger and smarter than I was 8 months ago.  I am blessed beyond measure with old friends, new friends and dear ones who walk beside me in life's journey.  I do not have enough fingers to count the blessings of my life.  My fingers are busy these days, making countless creative elements - art pieces that layer piece upon piece into a whole, a collage, a thing of beauty.  I am enjoying at this present moment, days of art instruction in Atlanta, here and there in the art venues of this amazing city. 

I no longer cross my fingers and hope for the best... I open my hands to the heavens, to my God, and give thanks for each day, a gift from above. 

It has been a month since I have blogged, and it feels good to get in the groove again.  I strive to be more focused in my future months, now that my Pedro is back!  As I drive down the fingerling roads of the southern states, please say a prayer for me.  It is a warm feeling to know I am lifted up.

I once more cast my 3 seeds to the wind, 4 days ago as I left Savannah, knowing that Father-Son-Holy Spirit direct my days. 

Peace to you, my blog-readers!


Intothewind-Naturegirl