De Queen, Arkansas

De Queen, Arkansas is not what I imagined. I think I had been picturing a town dominated by wise African-American beekeeping women imparting sage bits of advice along with pots of honey. (Maybe my recent reading of The Secret Life of Bees was on the brain, I don't know.) Well, it wasn't that.

We pulled into De Queen off of Highway 70 and a spin around the business loop took us right to the town square. It has been my observation that town squares in the South have been one of three varieties:

* the completely depressed and mostly vacant square evidencing the giving-up-all-hope-of ever-winning-the-war -against-Walmart;

* the ruthlessly gentrified plaza with the 17 cookie-cutter stores selling overpriced antiques that reek of potpourri and scented candles; or

* the town square that shows life, with a Salvation Army, a market of some kind, a café or two and a few empty buildings with hopeful FOR SALE signs in the windows.

The latter implies a sense of hope, has fresh petunias in the flower boxes and some old guy in coveralls weedwhacking the lawn in front of City Hall - which is just how the square was in De Queen. The interesting departure from other towns we’ve recently seen was this: there were more taquerias, panaderias and lavanderias than anything else. But there was also a Salvation Army.

Today’s card said “Try a New Approach. You will need intuition and open-mindedness. Look at life from another perspective. It will give you new insight.” After a peaceful sleep to the hum of an air conditioner in the De Queen Courtyard Inn, we returned to the square with the revised expectation of breakfast taquitos and cafecitos. Instead, we wound up in a place called Lillie’s Pad, a coffee bar/diner/ bakery/House of the Lord. It looked like the living room of somebody who really loves Jesus and enjoys collecting frogs.

That would be Lillie. She poured us two delicious cups of dark, rich coffee and fixed us up with some scrambled eggs and toast. While we ate, I looked around and took it all in. There were ceramic frogs, stuffed frogs and frog salt shakers on every table. There was a frog on a bicycle, some frogs in chef hats and a frog in a Santa suit that looked eerily like the Grinch. Interspersed amongst the frogs were crosses, doves and novena candles featuring Jesus wearing a crown of thorns. The specials board listed not only food but a Scripture of the Day.

We of the Paris road-tripping Eiffel Tower collectors really appreciated Lillie’s commitment to a theme. And talking with her I realized something that hadn’t occurred to me in a really long time: being devoted to Jesus Christ isn’t in and of itself a bad thing. Sometimes I forget that out there amongst all the hypocritical, judgmental bible bangers talking the talk, there are actually people like Lillie walking the walk.

All of the proceeds of her baking business (which she shares with her son-in-law, the artist who decorates all her cakes free-hand) go to her church, which is trying to build a fellowship hall. Evidence of her providing assistance - financial and otherwise - to her community abounded. And this is a woman who admitted she's just barely getting by. "Praise God the light bill got paid," she said.

I had thought this sort of thing would make me uncomfortable, that these sort of Christians would make me squirm. But Lillie didn't fit whatever ugly stereotype of Southern fundamentalists I had in my head. She was open, earnest, blissful and calm. Since I am not just logging Parises on this road trip, but delving deeper into my own weird ex-Catholic-eastern-influenced-meditative hybrid spiritual journey, this meant something to me. I'm not sure what, exactly, it meant, other than to keep exploring and keep on keeping an open mind.

Just as we finished up looking through the photo album documenting all the son-in-law’s creations, he came in with two of Lillie’s grandkids. While the boy looked at a newspaper and the girl lounged on the couch, the son-in-law took the guitar down off the wall and began to play the Eagles’ “Lyin’ Eyes” – with the words all changed to praise God.

“I’ve been called Lillie my whole life,” Lillie told us before we left. “And when I got this place, the Lord gave me the name. He also told me what it meant. I never knew what my name meant, but He told me, ‘Life Is Love, Love Is Everything, So Pray All Day.’”