{"id":567,"date":"2012-12-13T16:25:13","date_gmt":"2012-12-13T16:25:13","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/kandynolesstevens.com\/?p=567"},"modified":"2012-12-13T16:25:13","modified_gmt":"2012-12-13T16:25:13","slug":"the-long-road-home-part-3","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/www.realsweetgrace.com\/blog\/?p=567","title":{"rendered":"The long road home . . . Part 3"},"content":{"rendered":"
\"photo<\/a>

photo courtesy www.ohkarolle.com<\/p><\/div>\n

So far on my travel log, I have waxed poetically about rail transportation.\u00a0 From my perspective, there is only one drawback: train stations in larger cities. This isn\u2019t a judgment, but just an \u201cit is what it is\u201d assessment.\u00a0 Many of the larger train stations have a disproportionate number of panhandlers and others that have not seen many of life\u2019s blessings.\u00a0 So when I disembarked in New Orleans, I knew what lay ahead of me in the station.<\/p>\n

Normally, I would not be fazed by this, but this time I had packed 2 large suitcases (filled with Christmas presents) along with a purse and knitting bag.\u00a0 I was loaded down. \u00a0Upon arrival in the station I discovered that the rental car office was not adjacent (as advertised) but rather two blocks away in the hub of the down and out.\u00a0 I chose not to pick up my checked bag and started out on foot (wearing snow boots and winter coat).\u00a0 I probably looked like I normally lived right outside the station carrying everything I own on my person or in one of my bags.<\/p>\n

I left in 20 something degrees and arrived in upper 70\u2019s.\u00a0 I was the\u00a0definition of a hot mess while I tried to navigate my way to the rental car mecca. To complicate matters there was major road construction outside the station, and based on the way I looked, not a single car helped by allowing me to cross the street.\u00a0 While I was waiting and sweating, a man came up really, really close to me. I knew what was about to happen next, except for at this point, I was just plain ticked. So I turned around and gave him the \u201cDon\u2019t mess with this Momma\u201d stare coupled with a \u201cDon\u2019t even think about it\u201d verbalization\u00a0because I \u201cjust might come unglued right here\u201d on Loyola Street.\u00a0 Amazingly it worked and I arrived at my destination possibly 5 pounds lighter in my own personal sweat sauna.<\/p>\n

All was well . . . until. Until the rental car agent asked, \u201cDo you have another driver\u2019s license?\u201d This was my first inkling that more trouble than almost getting mugged was brewing. Seriously, lady, what the heck? No I don\u2019t have another driver\u2019s license. What was she thinking?\u00a0 Well, it turns out that my license expired on my birthday 13 days prior.\u00a0 There was nothing that could be done except call my parents for help.<\/p>\n

The first thing out of my dad\u2019s mouth was, \u201cHow did this happen?\u201d\u00a0 Dad, that isn\u2019t important right now, and what I really needed to hear was, \u201cOkay, let me grab my Daddy super cape, and I am on my way. It will take me 3 hours, but I am on my way.\u201d Thankfully after explaining my near mugging, the rental car folks drove me to the train station.<\/p>\n

Back at Amtrak, I found a seat and made a few phone calls, but here I was stuck in a not- so-lovely place.\u00a0 While I was making my calls, I was approached once again.\u00a0 \u201cNo I didn\u2019t have any extra money for food. Currently, I am in my own mess and I cannot fix yours.\u00a0 God bless you anyways.\u201d At this point, I noticed two sweet little ladies who also seemed to be waiting with their barrage of suitcases.<\/p>\n

I hated to do it, but I went over and politely asked if I could sit next to them \u2013 they radiated peace and comfort. I asked if they could watch my bags so I could retrieve my checked bag.\u00a0 Once back in my seat, I was approached for a third time.\u00a0 \u201cListen sir, I am about one blink away from having a meltdown, and I am sorry I cannot help you. I can barely help myself.\u201d<\/p>\n

I don\u2019t know what possessed me, but the whole story came burbling out to my now \u201ctrain station\u201d friends.\u00a0 The two sweet ladies asked where I was trying to get to.\u00a0 I explained Pensacola.\u00a0 They asked a few questions about what highways would you take to get there.\u00a0 The next thing I knew they were calling their husbands and trying to figure out how to fix a situation \u2013 me!<\/p>\n

Eventually, I learned that they had travelled on a riverboat from New Orleans to Memphis and then rode the train back.\u00a0 They were all friends from a Sunday School class, and they then were driving home to Myrtle Beach, South Carolina.\u00a0 Miss Jane and Miss Sandy just made me feel better. At this point, my stress level had gone down simply because they were there.\u00a0 Finally, they got through to their husbands with a message of \u201cPlease come into the train station when you arrive, because we have a proposition for you.\u201d<\/p>\n

Rescuing me was the proposition.\u00a0 As their husbands approached, I leaned over and said, \u201cIs this the point where I make puppy dog eyes for them to feel sorry for me?\u201d\u00a0 We had some good chuckles. Once the Misters Marvin (both husbands share the same name) heard this story, their Southern damsel-in-distress meter kicked in and they said, \u201cGrab your bags! We will at least meet your parents in the middle.\u201d<\/p>\n

One call to my dad provided another dad-ism. \u201cAre you satisfied with this arrangement?\u201d was followed swiftly by \u201cAre you sure you can trust these people?\u201d\u00a0 I assured him this was a gift from God \u2013 these were Sunday School people! Somehow he must have trusted my judgment at that point.<\/p>\n

I later learned that one Marvin is retired Air Force and the other Marvin is retired Highway Patrol.\u00a0 And in all of their words, \u201cThere was no way we were leaving you there.\u201d<\/p>\n

And so here we were on our way to somewhere in Mississippi to drop off the newly adopted daughter with her biological parent.\u00a0 Along the way, we shared our stories and, more importantly, our faith \u2013 the whole time\u00a0I was praising Jesus in the storm for sending me the best guardian angels this side of heaven.<\/p>\n

The best part was what my dad saw when we met at our drop-off location.\u00a0 Here was his wayward daughter (who NEVER got a notice to renew her license) flanked by one couple on each side. \u00a0Earlier, I suggested they just leave me at a Cracker Barrel, where I could rock on the porch, but they wouldn\u2019t dream of it.<\/p>\n

Instead they waited to deliver me straight into my Daddy\u2019s hands.\u00a0 It was the best picture image I will ever have.\u00a0 It reminded me of all the people of faith that have helped mold and shape me (including the one that was the reason for my travels) who have helped usher me -one day –\u00a0into my Heavenly Daddy\u2019s hands. For that I am incredibly blessed!<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

So far on my travel log, I have waxed poetically about rail transportation.\u00a0 From my perspective, there is only one drawback: train stations in larger cities. This isn\u2019t a judgment, but just an \u201cit is what it is\u201d assessment.\u00a0 Many of the larger train stations have a disproportionate number of panhandlers and others that have […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":[],"categories":[2],"tags":[36,140,164,193,198,304,405,533],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.realsweetgrace.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/567"}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.realsweetgrace.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.realsweetgrace.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.realsweetgrace.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.realsweetgrace.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=567"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"http:\/\/www.realsweetgrace.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/567\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.realsweetgrace.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=567"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.realsweetgrace.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=567"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.realsweetgrace.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=567"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}