Last week, I was in Demorest, Georgia from Wednesday to Friday. Friday was the first day of school—Marcia is a third grade teacher—so the days before that we spent getting ready. 

Wednesday afternoon was the open house, when the families would come by the school to drop off the students' school supplies, see their classroom, and meet the teacher. From 4-6pm, I watched as Marcia greeted the families and students. It was like a hamster wheel of people cycling in and out, but Marcia's poise and gracious attitude never flagged. She said the same things to eighteen different parents while greeting former students (if I did my math right, there's close to 300 that could've come by) and making the new students feel comfortable and confident.

That night, we met Eric and Sydney for dinner at Fender's, which has the distinctive title of Cutest Diner in the World.

Seriously! Actually, kidding, but seriously look how cute it is. 

And when I was taking this picture, the neons weren't on. But Eric ran inside, and before I knew it the neons were flicking on, just for me. And it felt like that scene in Cars, when Lightening McQueen fixed all the neon in Radiator Springs and the happy song starts playing and everyone bounces along the newly paved road. (For those of you who didn't know me when I was fourteen, Cars was my fav movie for the longest time.)

Who would've thought that one of the most magical moments of this summer would've happened outside a tiny diner in Cornelia, Georgia? That's what happens, I suppose, when you structure a summer around the idea that the unknown places and people have just as much value as everything else. Living under that idea this summer has introduced me to amazing people and ideas and situations I wouldn't have known about or cared about otherwise. It's taught me about grace. Grace is for all people. It's the great equalizer. I've stepped into the worlds of such different people and seen the same thoughts in their heads and same love in their hearts for people in their lives. It reminds me that the outsides look different, but even when that's all we see—in people around us in the grocery store, or making acquaintances that won't turn in to friendships—we can remember to believe that the people inside the outsides are full of live and love and value. 

Here's the front porch, one of Marcia's favorite things about their home. 

Over the eleven years she's taught—six of which were at her current school—Marcia has gathered about 1600 books for her students to read. She uses an online service that allows her students to check the books out from her classroom. As I continued spending time with her, and as I saw her interact with the students on the first day of school, I was continually impressed with how intentionally Marcia approached teaching. She continually is looking for ways to improve her teaching style and treat each student with exactly the care that they individually need.

Then, finally, the first day of school arrived! The students started coming as early as 7:15, and the day began! 

What a fun day! The kids were cute and smart and crazy and so sweet. And Marcia was all of those things, if you switch "crazy" out for "put-together" and "multitasking" and "focused" and "engaging."

Here's the four 3rd grade teachers. I got to spend bunches of time with them, and it was hilarious and so fun. They each had different school stories and teaching strengths and past experience—it was fun to see how all these formed this competent, fun group of women.

Welcome back to school, Habersham County! I gotta tell ya—you're in good hands.

Here's the quick post about my time in small-town Georgia with a darling mom + elementary school teacher named Marcia. If you can't tell from my doodles, it was a blast! More tomorrow:)

I was in Connecticut from July 29 to August 1. Here's three sets of thoughts:

1. Go to Connecticut. 
Okay, friends. I think we forget that New England is such an adorable place. Probably because it's so far up there, so hard to get to, and because after the pilgrims and Revolutionary war, you don't learn anything about it in school. I hadn't been to the countryside of New England before, and let me just suggest that you go there as soon as you can for as long as you can. If I ever get to be a writer and nothing else, I have decided that I'd be a long-term resident of a bed & breakfast in the countryside of Maine or New Hampshire or Connecticut. Stone farmhouses and old bridges and rolling hills, or, as Anne of Green Gables said, lots of "scope for the imagination."

2. Rachel
At some shadow locations, a single event stands out to me as indicative of the character of the people I spent time with. After other locations, writing about the schedule and events we attended helps me articulate what I learned and experienced. But as I try to write about Rachel, I find myself fighting the urge to give you a live update of each minute and second I spent at her house. I think that's because every moment I spent with her felt like she was exactly at home, exactly belonging in every different type of moment.
During my time in her world, I saw Rachel fill so many roles. She was a hostess, putting together a simple, delicious evening snack when I arrived from a day in the car. She was a women's ministry director, preparing for and cooking for and administrating one of the tri-annual planning meetings. She was a pastor's wife, taking care of the girls during church when Matt was working; she was also Matt's wife, knowing him ("You forgot your wallet on the day trip to Boston, but you took how many notebooks?" "Three," he turns to me, "I mean, what if someone said something I needed to write down?") and being gracious or encouraging or funny to him—just him, Matt, the human, who happens to be a pastor. She was a mother, and she taught her girls as she brought her girls to school or the dog park or anywhere else. After this trip, the fourth time I've stayed with the mom of young kids, I think I could make a whole Summer Shadow book just about these patient, intentional mothers. Rachel was also a friend—to me and to Matt and to the church members and to everyone I saw her interact with.
More on Rachel sometime—you'll have to read the book;)—but I'm realizing that I won't be happy with such a short space to write about Rachel. 

3. Towels to Owls
As much as I want to write deep thoughts on family, or how hilarious Caroline is, or fun conversations I had with Matt, I think I'll finish on another note. On Sunday night, the five of us loaded into the car and drove to the home of their family friends. The party was called towels to owls. It began at 4, with the kids swimming (hence "towels"), and went until 10 (when it was dark, hence "owls). Around 6:30, the kids disappeared to play with a babysitter, and the adults moved to the front deck. The table was set, the menus were passed around, and the four couples (+ me!) began to dine. 
Friends. This meal was seven courses. Seven! What fun. The food was homemade, French-inspired (the couple hosting met and fell in love in France), interesting, and delicious. Each course was paired with a different wine, and there was one of those courses of palate-cleanser-frozen-sorbet like in Princess Diaries. The food was amazing; the people were even better.