I spoke to at least a dozen people in the few minutes I lingered. That notion doesn't catch some of my city cousins. They tend to make light of the shift that happens in the mountains as the winds change, the sky turns to bright azure, and the clouds spread out in ripples like carded white wool. The local paper carries notices of applebutter makins', gospel sings, the Arts Council's new season offerings, and upcoming holiday parades. Every year, with little variation, we move through the transition and gear into cold weather mode.
Warmer wear fills the coat tree that's been near empty for months.
But this gait of life, set against other scenes, creates uneasiness for me. But I can't just pass over them. I have a connection. In the summer of 1999, a group of high school seniors from my church spent 10 days in Amman, Jordan as part of the World Changers International group. They were there by invitation, to teach an English language day camp at the Amman Baptist School.