There are things I love about each of the places we've lived. I love the brilliant colors of fall in Pennsylvania. I love the ingenuity and hard work of the people in Nebraska. I love the independence and lack of regard for the rest of the world in Texas. But, Alabama is my home-place, where I was raised and married. It's where my family still lives and my kids were born. “Sweet Home” is my theme song, playing in my head when I need to walk with a bit more confidence. So, Alabama will always have a huge hunk of my heart and a special spot in my mind.

We're fresh off a trip home for Christmas. It's a terribly long drive from Pennsylvania, but it was so worth it to be down South, even for a short time. I was surprised on this visit that I wasn't just consumed with our family, but I was struck and charmed with some stuff that's particular to the South itself, it's culture and cadence. I guess we've been gone long enough to notice some differences.

So, here are 5 things I love about the South.

1. The friendliness. About halfway through our trip in December, Bobby said, “Do you notice how everyone looks you in the eye and says 'Hi'?” It's true. The people are incredibly warm and open. They're not too busy to acknowledge a passerby. They probably think it would be rude if they didn't say, “Hey.”

2. The manners. Speaking of being rude...in the South, people generally aren't. I know there are those who think Southerners are fake or simple-minded to be so polite. But, if you think that, you've never had a gentleman doff his cowboy hat to you and say, “Nice to meet you ma'am.” I promise you, if you did, you'd feel differently.

My husband had the chance to introduce our boys to the bull rider, LJ Jenkins, one New Year's Eve. Bobby kind of skipped over me in his introductions, excited for the boys to meet a real live bull rider. When Bobby passed me over, LJ focused his attention on me and literally tipped his cowboy hat as he shook my hand to introduce himself. And, I literally did giggle like a teenager. 

Thanks, LJ Jenkins' Facebook page!

I was newly married and in my mid-twenties when I attended my cousin's wedding in San Antonio. While the bride and groom were leaving, I was introduced to one of the groomsmen and asked if he was a friend of my cousin's from college. “Yes, ma'am,” he answered. Ughhh. I did not want to be called ma'am then, but, gotta love those Southern gentlemen.

My boys have been labeled Southern gentlemen too and I'm proud of them for that. They will stop to hold doors for others and they still say “yes, Sir”, even if it's weird up here. My son, Allen, appreciates how when you introduce yourself, down South, others shake your hand and offer their names in return. It's a pet peeve of his that this doesn't happen everywhere. Simple, yes, but makes a big difference.

3. The natural beauty. An arrogant baseball dad in Ft. Worth once asked me where we were going on an upcoming vacation. “Alabama,” I answered wistfully. “Why?” he sneered condescendingly. I sputtered something about it being beautiful and where our families live. I never can think of anything really good to say in those situations.

weather.com, Mount Cheaha

But, Alabama is beautiful. It's right there in the state motto. There are pine trees aplenty and a lushness not found in other parts of the world. There are rolling hills and red clay soil, strange and wonderful. There's an openness, not like in Montana, but open and yet still cozy; like you're being hugged by someone with a strong chest and impossibly wide shoulders, your face doesn't get smooshed, but you still feel the embrace.

4. The accents (or the way y'all talk). While working as missionaries in Austria, we were confronted with accents from many lands. English words tripped over Iranian tongues and Bosnian lips. The German words that I spoke, I'm sure, sounded crazy coming from this southern mouth. On our trip back home after 2 years, Bobby and I were sad to leave, yet giddy with excitement. We flew Delta from Vienna straight into the heart of Atlanta. There was one flight attendant who was obviously from the south. He said “y'all” without hesitation and didn't even raise an eyebrow as we stared at him with goofy smiles on our faces. We rang our “attendant call button” way too many times asking for extra cookies and a blanket and who knows what else because all we really wanted from him was more of that golden accent. It was a portent of things to come as we moved back to the South.

5. The food. Ahhh, the food. While I love the fried stuff down south, I'm not just talking about hush puppies and catfish. I also love the pimiento cheese, cornbread, grits and black-eyed peas. But, the fried chicken, oh the fried chicken. I love that there are at least 3 restaurant chains that exclusively serve fried chicken fingers with French fries and this heavenly, glorified Thousand Island sauce to dip them in.

On this trip to Alabama we found out about another restaurant chain called Chicken Salad Chick. It serves 15 different kinds of chicken salad plus deli sandwiches and, of course, pimiento cheese. The restaurant is adorable and the food is great and I don't think it would have started, much less been successful, in any other corner of the country.

But, I can't forget the sweet, iced tea; how it fills up your mouth and leaves you with a smile. On our honeymoon, my sweet husband took me to Bar Harbor, Maine. We flew in to Bangor and drove the rest of the way to Mount Desert Island. When lunchtime came on that blissful road trip, we stopped at a roadside stand for lobster rolls. I ordered “tea” with my sandwich then looked on in confusion as the proprietor filled a dainty tea cup with piping hot water and plopped a tea bag on a saucer. Bobby, who spent his summers “Down East”, noticed the error and asked for iced tea for his clueless bride. It wasn't the least bit sweet so I dumped packet after packet of sweet n low in my glass.

I'm sure there are more things I love about the South. I didn't even mention college football, steak restaurants housed in cinder block buildings and magnolia trees. But, mainly it's home. And that's what you love most about where you're from, too.

No matter where and I live, and for how long, I think I'll always be like my Aunt Sally. She claims Alabama as her home, but she's lived in Minnesota for over 40 years. She's stubbornly kept her Southern drawl and fondly recalls her roots in Beulah, AL whenever possible.

Aunt Sally and I would agree with W. Morris who said, “I am a Southerner. I like the feel of these words. I could no more be otherwise than I could shed my outer skin or change the color of my eyes.”

While I'm kind of sad I'll never have violet eyes, like Elizabeth Taylor, I'll happily trade that in for belonging to the South. I really do like the feel of those words.

Decorating the Christmas Tree

I love our Christmas tree every year. I think there's been one year I wasn't super happy about it – it was a live tree with droopy limbs. But, for the most part, I love it, every single year. We've had live trees with bare spots and we sometimes use my Grandmama's fake tree (ever-lasting my Mama would say). I almost always wish our trees were taller. But, once you get the lights and ornaments on, it's beautiful. So beautiful.

Our ornaments are a delightfully quirky mix. There's a sled-full of clay snowmen with our names on them, and a Swarovski crystal star that proclaims the year is 2001. There's one made of cardboard glued to a red, wooden ring hung by red yarn with a picture of 5-year-old Amy in it. There's an elegant shell angel from my friend Lori's wedding and a cowboy boot from Texas. I always finish off the decorations with a tartan garland and pipe cleaner candy canes the boys made one year. I can't remember the last time we used white lights. It's colored lights for us. 

The tree is kind of funky. But, it's ours and I love it.

My problem comes in with the actual decorating of the tree. This year the boys put the tree up while I was out of the house. I thought they did a great job until I finished putting the lights on, which I've done since I was a high-schooler. Once the tree was smothered in lights I gathered the empty boxes to put in the attic when I noticed something funny about the Christmas tree box. It wasn't empty. There was a branch in there! The boys had left a whole branch off the tree. They claim they couldn't find an extra hole for it to go in, but that's never happened before and I know there's not an extra branch. I figured if I hadn't missed it while putting the lights on then no one else would miss it either.

After the lights, we all hang the ornaments together.

I always picture this going differently than it does in real life. I want us to have Christmas music playing gently in the background. There should be hot chocolate cooling in mugs on the coffee table. I want us to laugh and tell stories and reminisce about the ornaments, where they came from and why we got them. I want everyone to be ON BOARD and paying attention.

That doesn't happen in my house.

This year, I was just happy we were all home on the same night so we could hang ornaments together. I had thought we might need to divvy the ornaments into piles and let each person hang them when they were home. I sat on the floor by the tree with the huge plastic box of ornaments and a tangled pile of ornament hooks. I would say things like, “Here Allen, you hang this one. It's the twin bears in mittens that my friend Rosalie gave us right off her tree on your first Christmas.” And, “Bobby, you hang this one. It's a real silver bell!” 

 

They would humor me a little. Each would look at his ornament, smile, say “hmmm,” and find a place to hang the precious bauble. Then, they would refresh themselves, not with their hot chocolate, but with a minute or two of whatever football game happened to be on.

I wanted to huff and sigh. I wanted to say, “Hey, over here. This is all part of celebrating the birth of Jesus! Don't you care?!!”

But, I didn't.

I know they care. I came home one afternoon after the tree decorating to find Davis alone. He had plugged in the Christmas tree, but that's all. No lights in the front window. No lighted garland going up the stairs. No adorable Christmas Minion on the front porch. When I asked him about it he said, “The tree is all that's really necessary for me to feel like it's Christmas. Well, that and stockings.” 

So, I know they care...

They just care differently than I do, or differently than I want them to.

Maybe my love language is undivided attention to decorating the Christmas tree. Or, maybe I just need to get over it and be thankful for what I've got – three men in my life who let me decorate my dining room with a huge pink rug, who give me candles for my birthday and Christmas, who occasionally take me to the ballet and try really hard not to break the fancy china dishes when we use them.

Just like so many things in my life, the decorating of the Christmas tree doesn't “look” and feel exactly like I think it should. But, just like my crazy, quirky, mismatched tree, I want to love it or at least embrace it as mine.

I'll never stop oohing and aahing over the ornaments and wanting the boys to look at the pictures in their Noah's Ark First Christmas ornaments. I may still feel like sighing and huffing a little. I'll probably still make hot chocolate and turn Christmas music on. But, I hope I remember that none of this stuff really matters.

Whether we even have a tree or not, we'll still celebrate the birth of Jesus. We'll still sing carols at church and struggle to find the perfect gift for each family member. I hope I remember that it's not how we decorate the tree but who is decorating it. It's not the ornaments and stories, but those three men who love me so much and who I so desperately love. 

 I hope you loved your Christmas tree this year. But, whether you did or you didn't, my prayer for you and me in 2017 is that we love our lives, too; bare, missing pieces, mismatched, kind of funky and beautiful. Oh, so beautiful.

“Christmas waves a magic wand over this world, and behold, everything is softer and more beautiful.”

-Norman Vincent Peale