Category Archives: Travel

La República Dominicana

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“Broad, wholesome, charitable views of men & things cannot be acquired by vegetating in one little corner of the earth all of one’s lifetime.”

One of my favorite Southerners, Mark Twain, said it best. Traveling makes you modest, makes you question your comfort zone, and ultimately, makes you ponder your tiny place in this vast and ever-changing world. And that’s a good, healthy thing.

The Caribbean view from the plane en route to the Dominican Republic.

So, we got to La República Dominicana on my 44th birthday. My first impression upon arriving was disbelief at the inefficiency, like having to take a bus from the tarmac to the terminal check-in … you know, all 100 meters of a journey.

Then paying a guy $10 to enter the country, and having to hand over the government tickets to another dude some two yards away. Now there’s make work! I think that airport needs to invest in some automation.

But all turista complaining aside, our time in the Dominican Republic was enjoyable and stress-free. Sure, we made a few mistakes, like tipping the airport baggage guy way too much, or buying an 8-pack of tampons for $8 (gasp!) because I thought I had forgotten to bring mine, and purchasing for some pricey cigars that turned out to be Cuban knock-offs.

Rebeeler on la playa in Punta Cana. Gracias for “quince” great years, mi amor! If you can put up with me for 15, certainly we are in it for the long haul.

Honestly, haggling, in my opinion, is just the worst. I like the competitive and equalizing factor of “here’s the good and this is the fee.” But in other parts of the world, price is debatable and fluid, depending on the circumstance and possibly even the consumer’s country of origin.

This is no slight at those who can barter and haggle well. It’s just that I’m so accustomed to the competitive and consumer-friendly forces of goods as far as the eye can see and at the best possible prices, that it is always hard for me to get cope with such hyper-inconsistent exchanges.

Interestingly, Americans aren’t the only fat ones. It seems the rest of the world’s beach dwellers — well, at least the ones from South America and Europe, from which most DR turistas hail — are rather robust, too.

A Dominican artistic impression of Conan O’Brien. Now this work of art is certainly worth a good, healthy haggle.

String bikinis are an unfortunate trend at the beaches in La Altagracia region. Even though it is mostly the Dominicans who are the fittest and most exquisitely beautiful, modesty was replete on la playa. Hey, at least the turistas don’t have negative body image issues, as do many Americans.

In general, non-Americans know multiple languages, like our concierge Eugenia. She was Bulgarian, but was fluent in English and Spanish.

Also Anna, the Ukrainian lady who pitched a vacation package to us: she spoke Russian, of course, as well as English, French, and Spanish. And Lisandro, our Spanish-speaking guide on the wonderful local excursion, also spoke English and French, and was in the process of learning Russian.

Bávaro Beach from a catamaran before muy cocktails, a sunset swim, & a lobster dinner. That’s just the way things roll in La República Dominicana!

Moreover, the turistas we met from places like Montreal, the Czech Republic, Uruguay, Russia, and Slovenia, spoke impeccable English, even though they usually would humbly say they only knew “pequeño” (a little).

And Stephen’s español was just amazing. He gets rusty, sure. But once he lets go and relaxes, hearing him communicate with locals is like listening to a symphony of sometimes discordant, yet mostly harmonic musicians, playing the earthly tune of man. Communication in its purest form.

Therefore, I’m going to be a student in Stephen’s weekly Spanish lesson with the boys. It’s going to be difficult for me, I know. But if there’s one thing that homeschooling has taught assured me, it’s that I’m a lifelong learner. So, if I have an open enough mind to overcome my math phobia, why not tackle a foreign language (or two) while I’m at it?!?

If you got no pesos, this is how poor turistas can work off mamajuana shots & El Presidente cervezas!

Other than linguistics, we had many beach-bum days filled soft sand, seaweed swimming, palm umbrellas, endless cocktails, perspiration galore, and people-watching. Time was not much of a concern — quite an odd feeling for most Americans, but very necessary and therapeutic, since relaxation is the main objective.

We adventured outside of the resort on occasion, like our visit to a local farm to tour the home and property, and lands where coffee, cocoa, tobacco, plantains and other tropical fruit are grown. It was incredible getting to meet Dominicans, who are typically friendly and kind, as well as hang with other cool turistas from around the world.

Our tour also took us to a mountainside restaurant, an elementary school outside Higüey, and La Basilica de Nuestra Señora de la Altagracia. The church, which is the largest basilica in Latin America, was architecturally pleasing, but also a tad disturbing as it had Mary as its centerpiece, rather than, you know … Jesus!

Drinking vino piño, smoking puros, listening to music, star gazing, having deep conversations, & relaxing on the beach our last night in town.

Our savior, the Son of God, and healer of mankind’s brokenness, seemed an after thought there. Strange how that happens in Latin America, as well as in some other places in the world. But I’ve learned that deifying the mother was a way that Catholics long ago tackled the veneration of pagan goddesses. And it just kinda stuck.

Moreover, Christ has been dealing with castigation, mockery, and misinterpretation since the dawn of man; that’s kinda what we sinners do. But He defeated death and sits at the right hand of God, and His spirit lives in us. So, a little Mary-worship sure can’t squelch His power or waver my faith in any way. It just ain’t my thang.

Now, we got to DR without a hitch, but leaving was another story. The coiled lines were long and unnecessarily slow. All the passengers on our flight were forced to sit on the tarmac for an hour in order that a few folks and their bags could be rechecked due to some kind of ticketing error.

Taking a break in Macao after a long day of exploring the area of La Altagracia & meeting some of the locals. By the way, have I mentioned that the Dominican Republic is HOT, like steamier-than-New-Orleans kinda hot?! Don’t even bother wearing makeup.

And then the Homeland Security guy that “welcomed” us back to the States was so stereotypically rude that it seemed like a spoof. Thanks, ‘Merica. But we survived. I’m just glad my travel-weary husband didn’t punch him, otherwise I’d have a way more subversive headline for this blog.

But travel sure does make your appreciate all your blessings and give you invaluable insights about yourself, the world, and the diverse peoples that inhabit it. Our vacation was an exciting and memorable trip, as well as such a loving gesture from my hubby, who took me there to celebrate early our 15th wedding anniversary.

I truly appreciate the adventure, Stephen, and look forward to our next travels. And thanks to you, too, Granny, for taking care of the 3 Amigos so we could experience this romantic time together sans kids! We certainly couldn’t have pulled it off without you.

Papa & the 3 Amigos have a blast cooking (& hypnotizing!) crabs for our delicious seafood feast w/ family. Thanks for the awesome memories, Papa!

In early August, the boys and I went up to see the Richmond crew and eat yummy steamed crabs. It was a leisurely visit that included lots of chilling with the family, plus, some spur-of-the-moment hang time with three of my old-school pals: Angela, Shelley, and Michelle. So great to catch up with these fine ladies!

In mid-August, we got to see the other side of the family in the mountains, but this time for a sad occasion: Uncle Tommy’s funeral. It was a heart-wrenching trip, since his death was quite shocking. After all, Tommy was a pretty young, healthy guy.

Plus, knowing that his granddaughter, sweet Ella, is too young to probably have formed any lasting memories of him is just a devastating thought. But we are praying for all of those who were closest to Tommy and will miss him most, specifically Granny, Kelly, Laura, Mike, and Dale.

The 3 Amigos have been playing a lot lately w/ our neighbor, Matthew (seen here far right), as well as a cool kid named Nick. It sure pleases this mama that the boys have plenty of neighborhood friends for good-time shenanigans.

But there were some happy times that weekend, like the boys playing with their Carolina kin, Ella, Grace, and Faith, and getting to meet Jovi, their cousin from Minnesota, and Stephen and I bonding with family we don’t see all that often. We were also able to make it to the Houston Family Reunion.

Remember those pukey sleeping bags from our last camping trip? Well, I took the need of having to clean them in a front-loading washing machine as an opportunity to invite the dudes and I over to Meredith’s house. I figured she has the high-tech wares, so why not get some much-needed time in with her and Rorie, all while tackling the overdue task?!

Rorie had a great fun with the 3 Amigos, who she classified as “such loud boys.” And Meredith and I were able to chat while the kids entertained one another. Thanks for a great afternoon of fun, washing, eating Chinese food, and good conversation, girls!

Houston, Zeke, Owen & Gabriel get ready to rock out @ the Folk Fest!

We attended the National Folk Festival last weekend in … Greensboro! Amazingly, our fare city has been chosen as the host of the big event for three years. Very cool.

One of our dearest friends, Steven, his wife, Paige, and son, Owen, came to town to partake in the festivities with us. It was a blast to spend some time with them and get to see some kickin’ live music so close to home.

We hope to rekindle our friendship with Steven and get to know his beautiful family even better. After all, it was he (along with his two older brothers) who was responsible for Stephen and I crossing paths back back in ’98.

Nice photography skills, Houston. Thanks for snapping this pic of Mommy & Daddy w/ our buddies Steven & Paige during stay with us. We look forward to seeing them later in the fall.

Fall baseball at the Y has been underway for a month. The dudes are playing for the Atlanta Braves and are doing quite well. Everyone’s skills continue to improve unabated, and the twins’ focus on the game has gotten much better, too.

Yesterday, I thought the boys’ game was at 12:15. But at 11:10, I happened to glance at my calendar and see that it was an 11:15 game. Gasp! I grabbed a baseball cap and bra for me, opted to skip brushing my teeth, threw the gear in the back of Stephen’s truck, and sped down the street to pick up the kids from trampoline jumping at Matthew’s.

Somehow, we made it to the Y by 11:30. Unfortunately, I had to do my bra-and-hat routine in the porta-potty, but at least I got to witness some rather entertaining baseball, and the 3 Amigos (who are virtually half the team) were able to play the majority of the game.

Can you tell I’m a tad excited to hang w/ Dale Watson & see one of my all-time favorite musicians perform in my hometown?! I’m already looking forward to next year’s fest.

CC, Awana, and piano are in full swing again. Things are going swimmingly, both learning-wise and time-wise, especially since I’m being rather diligent about not biting off not much more than the essentials and a few outings here and there.

Houston says he wants to do CC Memory Master, which means being able to recite all 24 weeks of grammar for seven subjects by late March. It was his idea, so I’m letting him take the lead. He did this for two subjects (Latin and history) during his first year of CC in ’12, and this is his second time around with Cycle 1, so I’m confident he can pull it off!

Last but not least, we cannot forget about Stanley. He had gotten pretty mellow and sweet over the summer, that is, until we had some dental work done on him at the vet last month. Now he’s back to the same old grumpy, ornery critter he used to be. I hope that mean feline likes living outdoors for a while. What a rude, fat cat.

“Freedom from God is slavery to circumstance”

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Yesterday, Granny took the boys to Mount Mitchell, elevation 6,684 feet. My lovers of geography were thrilled to visit the highest peak east of the Mississippi.

They did some light hiking, ate a picnic lunch, and cheerfully weathered the 63-degree temps in summer clothing. What a nice and safe adventure in the great outdoors.

Warming up & drying off after a fun-filled afternoon swimming @ Hanging Rock Lake. Little did we know what craziness what in store for us on day two of our camping trip.

Now let’s compare this with our camping trip to Hanging Rock from July 11-13. That Saturday was sunny and warm, so setting up camp was easy enough. Once Stephen’s friend from work, Dan, and his 12-year-old son, Brendan, arrived, we were off to do some lake swimming.

That night featured all the things that make camping so rewarding: relaxing around the campsite in an organic state, building a kick-butt fire, feasting on smokey campfire-cooked meat, munching guilt-free on junk food, making s’mores, burning sticks, drinking icy cold brews, and playing with glow sticks and glow necklaces after dark.

Overall, day one was a smashing success, and it felt as though Hanging Rock had welcomed us with open arms. Now, the next day was another story.

Zeke celebrates finding a good s’more-roasting stick, while Houston tosses the football — a harbinger of things to come the following day.

It began innocently enough. We’re pretty slow-moving campers in the morning. After Stephen boiled water for coffee, and Dan cooked bacon and eggs for breakfast, we lounged lazily around the fire, not quite ready to start off on an adventure.

Instead, the adventure came to us in the form of a football landing smack dab in the pan with still searing-hot bacon grease. It flew up onto Dan’s hands, Brendan’s arms and forehead, and Zeke’s legs. Screaming and crying filled the campground, and freaking out ensued.

Houston was the one who had been tossing the football up into the air. I actually thought to tell him to move away from where we were hanging out as to avoid hitting the lantern or some other breakable piece of camping gear. The grease hadn’t even crossed my mind as a possible disastrous target.

The twins are in awe of Gabriel’s fiery stick. Burning stuff is one of the best parts of camping, well, unless it entails burning-hot bacon grease.

But against my better judgement and my gut intuition, I said nothing. I felt like during the week leading up to camping, I had been riding Houston a little hard. So, I thought, “Lighten up, Rebecca. Let the boy have a good time, and stop ruining his fun.”

Interestingly, both dads said after the fact that they hadn’t even noticed Houston throwing the ball. Hence, it was me who dropped the ball, so to speak. Ultimately, I was responsible, and I felt horrible.

Of course, poor Houston felt even worse. He was saying how he was the worst person in the world, but we couldn’t really tend to his shattered self-esteem, since the medical needs of our burn victims were the most pressing issue.

Dan assists in getting the boys to pose for this forced photo @ Window Falls. A little morning trauma, a stressful hike, & my nervous & shaky hands weren’t about to stop me from getting my obligatory nature shot. Now smile, daggone it!

After being iced and slathered with ointment from the first-aid kit, Zeke eventually calmed down. We assessed the burns, which were pretty bad, but not blistering, so we opted forego a trip to the hospital.

After that, we were finally able to talk to Houston. We explained that he wasn’t in trouble. It was abundantly clear that this was just an accident, and we could see that he felt great remorse. We lovingly assured him that no one was mad and that we all forgave him. Poor kid.

Sure, we told him he should learn from such mistakes and make wiser decisions in the future, but the mishap was ultimately Mommy’s fault, since she was the only adult who happened to think about the consequences beforehand. Sigh … not the proudest parenting moment of my life.

Zeke shimmies down a rock on his bottom (as has been advised), while Gabriel does a jig near the steep ledge … Mommy’s blood pressure goes up.

I felt like my entire foundation had been rocked. I was guilt-ridden, shaken to the core, and shaking life a leaf.

Instead of practicing grace with myself, as I’m called to do in Ephesians 4:32, I felt feeble and defeated. Instead of remembering that God’s strength is made perfect in my weakness, like Paul says in 2 Corinthians 12:9-10, I was discouraged and wrecked by my failure.

Once we determined that Zeke could indeed get a sock on over the bandaged burns, we forged on with our hiking plans for the day. We made it to Window Falls and Hidden Falls, where the boys quickly got ahead of us with Brendan. This, I didn’t handle well.

“Is my wife having a nervous breakdown?” ponders Stephen. “Will we survive this hike?” I wonder, as I let the circumstances control me & affect our group. Sorry for not embracing the Fruits of the Holy Spirit, y’all! (By the way, nice photography work, Houston.)

Once we caught up to them, I witnessed my young, inexperienced hikers jumping from slippery rock to slippery rock, while exercising absolutely no caution. They haphazardly climbed up and descended down slime-covered terrains, heeding no skills we’d previously taught. I was just a mass of twitching nerves.

At our urging, the 3 Amigos were a bit more vigilant in the safety standards at our final destination, Lower Cascade Falls. This one has a pool deep enough for swimming, so we stayed there for a while to let the kids cool off and play, and allow us some time to chill and decompress.

Back at the site, Gabriel was sitting on his knees and leaning forward (as is his wont) while eating chips at a picnic table. Behind him was a cooler with a detached lid. His foot pushed against it, the lid slid off, and Gabe’s face smashed into the edge of the table.

Houston, who is such a sweet, forgiving & grace-filled boy, manages to have fun hiking behind Hidden Falls, despite Mommy’s stressed-out demeanor. So glad you didn’t let the accident or me ruin your adventure!

Blood gushed. Shrieks filled the campground for a second time. And ice was once again utilized to doctor an injury.

Turns out that Gabe took a chunk out of the gum above a top, front permanent tooth. Yikes. But because we were able to stop the bleeding promptly and he was able to eat without pain, we opted against the ER. Plus, I figured I’d just take him to the dentist once we returned to civilization.

After that, we had an uneventful dinner (thank God!), feasting upon MREs and sausages, and just trying to recover from the stresses of the day. Once Dan and Brendan hit the road, the boys easily passed out in the tent.

Zeke frolics in the pool of Lower Cascade Falls, happy that the cool waters provide relief to his injured legs. Thank the Lord his burns have healed well & hopefully only one small scar will remain.

That night, however, a thunderstorm raged and caused our tent to leak a bit. (Well, our laziness in not tying down the rain cover was the real culprit.) The boys were a bit scared, but we convinced them we were safe and, no, we wouldn’t float away, never to be seen or heard from again.

Gabriel had said he felt badly, but I chocked that up to fear and fatigue, so I didn’t think much about it. That is, until he puked all over his blankets, sleeping bag, and therma-rest around 2 a.m.

For once that day, I took God’s advice, and heeded the words of Isaiah 26:3 by finding peace in Jesus in the midst of this literal and figurative storm. I calmly reassured the boys that we would be okay, and that we could and would press on, despite our circumstances.

Zeke tries to slide down slippery rocks @ the bottom of Lower Cascade. Fortunately, it was a very bumpy & unsuccessful ride, so no more attempts were made. Don’t worry, thrill-seekers … there were more injuries & mishaps in store for us later on back @ the campground.

I used one of the remaining two therma-rests and slept down on the ground with Gabe to help him through the night, and Houston and Zeke snuggled with Daddy on the blow-up mattress. Sure, the smell of puke hung in the air, but we did indeed make it through the night no worse for the wear.

The day after we got home, though, I told Stephen I felt like I was having a stroke. I was speaking like I had dyslexia, jumbling up my words into a mixed-up order. Somehow, Houston managed to translate for me, articulating my unintelligible sentences into thoughts that made sense.

Stephen explained that people having strokes don’t even say real words and convinced me that I was fine. Still, I felt like someone was sitting on my chest and that I had no control over myself, mind and body. It was truly frightening.

Our trip w/ a few CC families to All-A-Flutter Butterfly Farm was both stress-free & injury-free … no standing on dangerous ledges for these merry pics!

Since then, I’ve determined that my physical body was merely suffering the symptoms of a spiritual sickness. I had gotten to a place both leading up to and during the camping trip where I wanted to have control, instead of letting the Holy Spirt control me and allowing His fruits to take hold of my life, as is spelled out in Galatians 5:22-25.

I was ignoring the words in John 15:5 that says by abiding in Christ, you will bear much fruit. And I wasn’t listening to Paul’s wisdom in Philippians 4:10-13. As Pastor Andrew explains these verses, “Freedom from God is slavery to circumstance.”

I’ve gained a deeper faith since all this, and feel like a stronger mom and wife, and a more mature Christian. I’m not saying I won’t screw up again and feel that human impulse of letting circumstances control me, but I will recognize the darkness sooner and be able to use the light of Christ to conquer it, hopefully, with much less drama.

Zeke dons Monarch antennae as tissue paper is wrapped around the kids to symbolize the chrysalis, from which these “butterflies” will emerge.

Simply put, I am learning ever so slowly to be content like Paul. It’s difficult and it’s radical, but it’s indeed doable. And honestly, it is the only way to survive and thrive in our brutal world and in America’s culture of death.

As my pastor further explains it, “I am tied to the source of life. It is strength to stand against the circumstances of the world through weakness of total dependence on God.”

In other words, when God controls us, our circumstances don’t, and our dependence on other worldly things is broken as a result. That is power. That is strength. That is blessing. That is freedom.

Although Monarchs are supposed to be attracted to vibrant colors, they were particularly drawn to Zeke, even in a black shirt. I think his butterfly popularity came as quite a surprise!

Other stuff:

  • Gabe’s gum is healing well and his first ($91!!!) x-ray showed that there was no damage to his tooth’s root or socket. He has to get another trauma check in a couple weeks, so you better break open the piggy bank, buddy.
  • We went to the sprayground with some Mercy Hill mamas, which included Kim, who just so happens to be the midwife who delivered Houston. He’s friends with her son, Casey. Small world, eh?!
  • Houston’s swimming like a champ and taking on diving boards, like he did at John Hunter and Gray’s house recently. He was even able to swim out to the platform at Hanging Rock and jump bravely from the board into the lake’s 14-feet water!

Even Houston (not a huge fan of critters these days) likes feeding the the Monarchs from his Gatorade-drenched pad.

  • Gabriel can now jump into the six-feet end of the pool and swim his way back to the edge without my assistance — a new feat realized while at Will’s pool the other day!
  • And Zeke is technically swimming, but just needs to build his confidence and not rely on floaties or the noodle. I’m so proud of all my little swimmers!
  • Stephen and I had an eventful date night. We saw Robert Randolph & the Family; then feasted on phở, bánh mì, and delectable cocktails made by a very serious bartender; indulged in a pricey cigar at an all-black bar, where we stuck out like soar thumbs, but didn’t care. Good times for sure!

Many Monarchs flutter about, while Gabriel & crew enjoy the relaxing atmosphere of the butterfly house.

  • Gramsey and Papa came to visit and took us out to a restaurant of Houston’s choosing. He picked Mario’s Pizza, which impressed the skeptics. And then the boys enjoyed working on a 500-piece puzzle, playing poker, and showing off their reading skills to Grams and Pops.
  • We went to a baseball game with Tricia, Jeremy, Bret, and Bella. We met this cool family through the J-Crew and hope that our friendships with them blossom over the coming months.
  • In fact, we are planning a camping trip with them this fall. Crazy, you say? Well, that’s the just the way we roll.

“Joy is about what you believe, not what you feel”

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The world at large has seemingly gone nuts. One prime example is that my fellow Americans have blamed the Confederacy for the Charleston shooting, and called for the banning of the Battle Flag, as well as other heritage and historic symbols. Since when did censorship become cool?!

With plenty of zinc oxide & silliness in tow, Houston & Jax enjoy our six-plus-hour beach day @ the Isle of Palms.

Forget real history, context, consistency, and common sense; the mob has their pitchforks out and are ready to demolish all remnants of Southernness. And if they have to destroy some Southerners along the way, well, that’s just an additional perk for the indoctrinators and re-educators of progressivism, and those that blindly follow the herd.

Next, the U.S. Supreme Court has exhibited in grand scale its fetish with tyranny by overturning state laws for traditional marriage. I personally think that consenting adults should not have to get permission from any government to join in a voluntary contract, and that adults should already be free to engage in the relationships of their choosing.

So, my Christian belief that marriage is something specific — a union between one man and one woman that is a reflection of our relationship with Christ — is really a moot point. As long as I’m not trying to coerce people though the force of government to abide by my worldview, what does it matter?

Donning Mr. Logan’s hat (due to a sunburn from the day before), Gabriel looks right @ home as a Kiawah beach bum.

And to round out this triad of oligarchical oppression, Congress just allowed the U.S. to become a member of the Trans-Pacific Partnership, which is, in short, a global governmental organization consisting of more than 600 members. Of those, 12 are countries and the rest are corporations. Nice.

It’s a trade deal and a fast-track treaty that will further subvert the rights of the people, on everything from medicine to the Internet to representation, and increases the power of cronyism worldwide. Yeah, it’s a brave, new world.

From a bunch of mob-mentality authoritarians running around, trying to control my every move and suppress my every thought; to the court and their one-size-fits-all mandates, to Congress’s incessant usurping of divided sovereignty and minority rights (with the ultimate minority being the individual), it’s easy to see why a lover of liberty can be down these days.

I affectionately refer to this as “Kiawah Boogie, Part 1.”

Libertarian author Larken Rose sums up my frustration aptly:

“Ya know, when people have been the targets of violence for so long, only to then turn around and initiate violence against others, it’s a prime example of the fact that most people do NOT actually advocate freedom, other than for themselves. Most people just want the club of ‘government’ on their side. If you’re not in favor of allowing EVERYONE his/her self-ownership, even if they use their freedom in ways you don’t like, then YOU are the driving force behind division and tyranny. For example, the people celebrating that VIOLENCE was used against people for not making a cake are far MORE of a threat to society than any narrow-minded but NON-violent bigot, racist, etc. To pretend you’re tolerant and that you love diversity, while demanding ENFORCED conformity, is pretty damn hypocritical.”

I understand that ours is a fallen world and that the Evil One and his manipulative and lying ways can be persuasive for the flesh of humanity. But I also know that Christ reigns supreme and that God’s will is done on earth as it is in heaven.

Part 2: As the sun sets on South Carolina, the Kiawah Boogie continues unabated.

So, I have to let the light of the Holy Spirit shine through me, even in these dark times. Thus, I’m trying my best to love on everyone, even the agents of oppression. Now that doesn’t mean that I won’t share my opinions in a civil way, try to gently persuade people, or even defend myself and my family against force, if the need should arise.

But the world is filled with hard hearts and people who are just hostile to both worldly and eternal freedom, and another heart of stone isn’t go to do anything to advance God’s kingdom here on earth. I won’t let the haters steal my affection for God, distance me from His peace, or put up barriers between me and the things I hold dear.

As one of my pastors said in a recent sermon:

“Joy is about what you believe, not what you feel … (and is) based on an unchanging reality, not our changing circumstances.”

It ain’t always easy being a Christian, but then again, no one ever said it would be. But it through Jesus that all things are possible. And thank you, God, for that.

Part 3: What happens in Charleston, stays in Charleston.

Sure, life has its anxieties and pressures, but there is so much living to do and so many blessings to cherish … like friends. So, the boys and I went to Charleston from June 17-21. We were actually there when that lunatic shot up a historic black church, killing nine innocent people.

An interesting thing was that while the mainstream media pumped their divisive narrative into homes across the nation, Charlestonians actually exhibited a keep-on-keepin’-on attitude. Yes, they grieved, but they also persevered ’cause that’s what Southerners do. In the face adversity, that rebel spirit was evident through their strength and kindness.

We took two trips to the beach during our visit. First was to Isle of Palms and the other was to Kiawah. Both are family-friendly with nice, big, clean expanses on which to spread out, thrilling waves for diving and riding without the undertow, and lots of pond-like areas for sand-castle building.

Zeke & Jax check out the U.S.S. Yorktown from the welcoming shade of our fun & breezy water taxi.

IOP is a more populated destination, whereas Kiawah is located in a nature sanctuary, giving you the feel of being on your own private ocean-front playground. Other than the overbearing seagulls at Kiawah, that was definitely our favorite of the two beaches.

We had a couple truly excellent meals. Christie, the kids, and I ate at Chez Fish on John’s Island. The food was scrumptious, but the service sure wasn’t what you’d expect from Southern hospitality and a restaurant with a nearly five-star Yelp rating. Oh well.

Stephen had arrived on Friday night, so on Saturday, both families trekked from Mount Pleasant to Charleston and back via water-taxi. Once downtown, we feasted on steamed oysters and other delicious sea creatures at Pearlz. Great service, awesome food, and microbrews crafted especially for the establishment. What’s not to like?

Proud to defend the Holy City against Yankee invaders, Gabriel keeps watch from atop a cannon in Battery Park.

In addition to yummy eats and super-fun boat rides, we soaked in the historic and steamy city on foot, walking around downtown, through the Battery, and then to Waterfront Park, where we let the kids cool off in the public fountains on this 100-plus-degree afternoon.

The irony of Fort Sumter being our backdrop for the day was not lost on me. It’s as if the landmark was a harbinger of the coming cultural battles proceeding the shooting, the SCOTUS decision, and the TPP passage.

Just as this fort endured the first shots of the War Between the States, it seems prescient in knowing the struggles for freedom and against central governance both then and now. I suppose, some things never change.

Zeke reads the decaying tombstones behind First Baptist Church, which (as the oldest Baptist church in the South) is considered the “Mother Church of Southern Baptists.”

Since Charleston, we have had some shenanigans around here, most notably celebrating Houston’s 8th birthday! The actual occasion was on June 26. Granny was in town for the weekend, so we went to see the movie “Inside Out,” and then came home and feasted on the birthday boy’s dessert pick: cheesecake!

Houston’s actual party was the following Tuesday night. He got to have two friends (Bret and a pal from Y baseball, Mitchell) over for afternoon play and more cheesecake, laser tag and bowling at Spare Time, and then back to the casa for a sleepover. Boyhood craziness abounded!

Some other stuff:

  • The 3 Amigos went to Mercy Hill Kids Week in late June for five days of learning about Jesus and hanging with friends: two of their favorite things!
  • The boys went to their CC/church buddy Josh’s birthday party. It was Mario Brothers-themed and featured a bounce house and piñata. Good times.
  • Last week, their CC pal, Tyrnan, came over for the afternoon. His grandmother had passed away, so the dudes took his mind off of that with Legos galore and by playing outside during a warm downpour.
  • Yesterday, the kids attended the Chevy Youth Baseball Clinic, where they got to learn some skills from the Greensboro Grasshoppers at the city’s fancy baseball park.

No better way to round out a steamy day of Charleston sightseeing than playing in the pineapple fountain @ Waterfront Park.

And last week, Houston underwent his first state-mandated educational testing. I chose the Woodcock-Johnston Cognitive Assessment, which was administered by a private contractor that a few other CC parents and I hired to test our kiddos in a relaxed atmosphere (my friend Rissa’s house).

Houston scored at the appropriate grade level for “passage comprehension,” which is not a surprise to me, since this language-arts discipline is usually challenging for him. But for the other 10 categories, Houston scored well into third-grade-level knowledge. Not too shabby for a rising third-grader. So proud of you Houston Lee!