I took a road trip yesterday with one of my older brothers and my son to attend my Uncle's memorial service.... He was my mama's oldest brother. The service was in South Georgia where my mama's family is from, and where a lot of our family still lives. So in this little white wood frame country church in the middle of nowhere my family gathered to pay their last respects and say their goodbyes. I sat toward the back of the crowded little church sandwiched between my dad and my son. As I listened to my cousin standing up front presiding over his first funeral, my thoughts wandered. I looked out at all my family sitting in front of me, and found myself lost in my thoughts. Growing up in this very large southern family was great. There is nothing proper about my family. They are southern to the core. But they have a special gift of making you feel comfortable, and like you belong no matter what. I think of that song by Rodney Atkins "These are my People". That song sounds like it was written just for my family. It's days like this that re-enforce what I already know....... I am blessed to be a part of this family.