Destination Federal Point

Yesterday was spent on the road. I went to the Ocala National Forest and quite a few other places. My first stop was by Zack, John, and Marcus’s home. You have not experienced a road trip until you have traveled with three boys. We all took off excited to be on another adventure. Mile after mile we drove with each successive mile chipping away another flake of enthusiasm. To cope we all started pick on the person among us who was generating the most complaints. Don’t worry John it will only be another hour; you say you are feel nauseous John, well make sure you keep close to the open window; none of us are complaining John; awwww John wants to call his mommy.

It took awhile but we reached and then traveled through the forest. I decided to press on and visit my father’s home at Federal Point near Palatka. One hour later in we were in the land where time stands still. The memories in this place are overwhelming. I realize that this little place that I used to visit with my family as a boy is more than just another small settlement on the St. John’s River. It is where my father was sent to live his childhood on this earth and a part of God’s plan to bring me into the world he created. I know now as a man that I love this place. On the approach to my father’s neighborhood we see a Kite soaring above the narrow country road. I stop immediately and get out of the Wego to take picture. When I look up I am amazed to several of the elegant raptors perched in a tree. These birds are a rare site to my eyes and to see so many in one area is just wonderful. The boys and I spend about 10 minutes watching them circle and glide in the sky above us. Back on the little road we explore the area. St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, my father’s childhood home, Norman and Mary June Moody’s home, and other sites of interest. Our final stop no ,pun intended, is the Federal Point Cemetery. I am here to once again visit the graves of my Grandfather and Grandmother. This place is truly timeless. Only the appearance of this year’s new head stones mark the passing of time. I have no trouble finding the head stones. The boys and I wander around the rows of stones taking photos and looking for insects and anything that catches our eyes. We are walking among what is left of the dead, but we know that each stone represents a soul that will see the face of God and receive their final reward. What will it be? Will you spend eternity in the presence of perfect love, or be eternally separated from the father, alone and in torment. Jesus is the way truth and the life, no man comes to the father except through Him, John 14:6.

We are getting a little hungry or at least that is what the brother’s grim are telling me. To Palatka and that charming little eatery known as Angels Diner. It is a pleasant thing to stumble out of the vehicle and sit in a cozy little booth. Like just about all the places around here this diner is a step back in time. We take a few minutes to decide on our meals and then bark out our orders. Nauseous John passes, Marcus gets bacon and eggs, Zack get a hot dog fries and a root beer, and I get a cheese burger with fries and onion rings. This is good food! We sit and chat and when we finish cleaning our plate we top it all off with one cherry and one chocolate milk shake. Now we can continue on with our spirits lifted!

Into the heart of the forest we go. As we prepare to make the turn onto the first dirt road we see a sign that indicates black bears reside here. No way will we see one. I have been here lots of times and never seen a bear. We rumble down trail 65 on our way to 90. The sun is getting low and the woods are beautiful. This is the time went wildlife begin to stir. When we reach 90 I take a left not sure whether it is the direction I need to go in to intersect trail 88 but I press on. Not two miles down and as we crest a hill I am shocked to see in front of us a Black Bear. He, being equally shocked to see us, is standing upright on two legs peering in our direction. I try to get my camera into position just as he canters across the road and into the dense under brush. Thank you Lord for that treat. We are all amazed and excited. We get out to look for tracks but we fail to find them. Later we discover I made a wrong turn and we head back the way we came. Zackary makes the astute observation that if not for the wrong turn we would have failed to see the bear. A profundity that thanks to him does not go unoticed. We tear back across trail 90 and then turn south on 88, to the gun range men. Ocala has a Wild West style gun range consisting of a firing line with about 12 lanes and a skeet range. We watch a couple of locals shooting a scoped rifle and a small hand gun. Night is quickly falling and we drive thought Ocala under a heavy downpour on our way home. Needless to say we arrived safely and I was privileged to partake of pork tenderloin expertly prepared by momma Sandy after which I drove home and went to sweet sleep.