I found the beginnings of an interesting and curious new blog by a young Southern Christian mom calling herself and her blog; “Going Godward.” Her first expressions in this new blog of hers in many ways expresses what to some extent, I am doing with this blog of mine.
May 9, 2021
There’s something about the ground you grow up on that stays with you long after you wander. That’s true for me and the red dirt. I really did grow up on a dirt road. My school bus was no match for the red, Georgia clay after an afternoon thunderstorm. The tow truck had to come pull us out of the mud more times than I can count.
The foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains, a southern section of the greater Appalachians, are a mighty fine setting for childhood and coming of age, and it is where my cultural inheritance lies. Preserving it feels like my life’s mission.
Perhaps, that’s why I am writing now. I feel a sense of urgency to tell the stories of my childhood – of my region. I don’t know if it’s my age or what seems to be the shifting cultural sands that prove less sturdy than my red clay footing, but I feel I must tell you everything I can recall. And, I want to tell you, reader, how my life has taken shape – how I’ve wandered over mountains, and through valleys, and been marred in mud – I want to tell you the story of a red dirt girl going Godward.