Southern Hospitality

Today, we headed out to a local park for a church picnic. Good time, of course. Hanging out with no agenda usually is, right?

I talked for a while to some ladies that I haven't spent enough time with yet, and we had a nice time praising God for his creation.

But it was after the singing that I really got my socks blown off. Our pastor, Dorothy Ann, called me up to join Billy in front of everyone (Ugh! I thought. I hate having people look at me.). She then announced that we were about to get pounded.

We looked nervously around as people began hitting fists into open palms. (Now, excuse me a second, please! Aren't y'all a bunch of Christians? What happened to the whole 'love thy neighbor' thing?)

Our eyes were then directed to a picnic table in the corner that was secretly piled high with food. A "pounding," it turns out, is an official Alabama welcome. People from our community brought a pound of food each to help us stock up our kitchen.

A "pound,"however, in Alabama equals at least 48 oz. We were stocked up and stocked again.

But it wasn't enough. No ma'am.

Our new friends not only purchased a ton of food for us, they also loaded us up with all the leftovers from the picnic. There was nothing I could do to convince anyone that they could take some, too, if they wanted.

Let's just say all my grocery money saving just got a whole lot easier.

Thanks, Chase Valley. We love you, and we're blessed to serve here.
before after
not to mention all of this: