Finding Peace in the Middle of Winter

I grew up in a little map dot of a place called Bryceville. It’s a tiny place, really, and if you blink while driving through, you just might miss it.

It’s the kind of place where life revolves around church, the small country store, or somebody’s kitchen table. Its where, as a kid, you knew better than to misbehave when your parents weren’t around because your Mama would know about it before you could get home. That or an adult you’d known your entire life would correct you the same as your own parents would.

It’s a place where "yes ma’am" and "no sir" are not only a way to show respect, but a way to tell if you're a local or “you ain’t from ‘round here.” Hearing the phrase, “How’s yer Mama ‘n them?” is quite common and if you don’t ask, folks might wonder where you left your manners.

If you’re lucky enough to be from Bryceville, then you’re lucky enough. And you may grow up and move somewhere else, but you never actually leave. As they say, you can take the girl out of Bryceville but you can’t take the Bryceville out of the girl. To me, Bryceville is home and it always will be. I’ve known many of the families literally my entire life and am probably distantly related to half of them by marriage or some such. More to the point, our families have known each other for generations past.

Bryceville is the kind of place that everyone knows everyone else. It’s a place that thrives on a sense of family and a sense of community. So when we lose one of our own, we all feel the loss as acutely as if they were family because, in a sense, they were family. Today I learned of the loss of a dear, sweet man, James Fouraker. He was truly one of the kindest, most gentle people I’ve ever known. My heart aches for his family. My heart is saddened that the community-family that is Bryceville has lost another of our own entirely too soon.

My sister, Marcee, posted this earlier and I think it says it all:

“I guess in a way we are selfish because we don't want people we love to go, when in truth, we should be happy for them. I mean what could be better? I have an aunt in the end stage of cancer right now and it's hard. But in a way, I will be so glad for her fight to be over and for her to get home. Cause that is surely no way to live. The Fourakers have had blow after blow the last couple of years. I know they are surely some strong stock to weather all this winter.”

James was a young man in his prime; enjoying life with his lovely wife and watching his grandchildren grow up. Maybe the Lord just needed James there more than He needed him to be here. Sending love and light to the Fouraker family. I hope they find some peace in the middle of their winter.