Lunching with Johanna before the Trustee meeting in Toccoa at the Cornerstone Restaurant.

Haddock Inn was located in the foothills of northeast Georgia two miles north of the city of Toccoa. In the early 1900′s, it was a popular tourist destination, but by 1911, its popularity had faded. That same year, Richard and Evelyn Forrest purchased the Inn  from Toccoa businessman E.P. Simpson with the idea of establishing a school for mountain children. Classes began in the Fall of that same year and so did the history of Toccoa Falls College.

Though the Inn burned in 1913, the lake remains. It is just not as large as it once was. Above is a postcard of the Inn from 1901. It has been colorized, and I’m sure the sail boat was added by the artist. But then, maybe there once were sail boats in the lake at Toccoa Falls.

Last Saturday, students began to remove a heavy lining that was installed in the lake bed a few years ago. Soon, it will be refilled and returned to its natural beauty.

Toccoa Falls is just a short walk from the lake that once bordered the foundation of Haddock Inn. It is 186 feet high and a fantastic destination for those who live in the Atlanta area.

I chose to help clean up the area near the base of the falls instead of trampling around in the lake bed.

Every once in a while, someone will ask where I want to retire. Well, I don’t think I ever will. But years from now if I do slow down, this location would be in my top five choices to live. It is a piece of property overlooking a train trestle outside of the city of Toccoa. Beyond the ridge and somewhat to the right is where Toccoa Falls is located. In the early 1900′s, Southern Railway engineer David Fant would drive his engine across this trestle each day on his run from Atlanta to cities and stops in South Carolina. Whenever he crossed it, he always blew the train’s whistle. Why? To remind the people at the college that he was praying for them. What an awesome reminder of faithful friendship! His love for the college lasted many, many years. (tfchistory.com/photos/haddock-inn)

Sometimes, I just jump in the car and drive to Toccoa Falls to do photography. The falls (186 feet high–34 feet higher than Niagara) is located on the campus of Toccoa Falls College, which rests on more than 1,100 acres of mostly woodland. One of the college’s closest neighbors is the National Forest. Usually it is a quiet place to get away, but this was not the case early Monday morning.

At 2:30 am tragedy struck as fire broke out at Gate Cottage—a historical building located on the side of Toccoa Creek at the opening to the gorge that contains the falls. This familiar building had welcomed visitors for nearly seventy years. It also housed the faculty for the college’s school of Counseling. While it was a total loss, college officials have vowed to rebuild it along with a new building that will include classrooms and office space for displaced faculty members.

The fire still smoldered late Tuesday afternoon.

Normally, this building would be filled with visitors browsing through the gift shop and getting ready to walk the short distance to Toccoa Falls.

A few days ago, I stumbled across these words written by Amy Carmichael, “All the paths of the Lord are lovingkindness. All, not some; not only those we would naturally choose, but all. . . . And there is also a path which each of us must walk alone. Though we do not see Him, He companions us; and, as we look back, we see that the path was always mercy and truth. . . . Let us rest our hearts on this very lovely word: ‘All the paths of the Lord are mercy.’” I really love Amy’s wording. Some may think, Have words been left out? No. This was just the way she thought and wrote.

She’s right, you know: All the pathways that God choses for us to travel are paths of mercy, lovingkindness, goodness, and grace. We may not understand why He has asked us to go in a certain direction, what will greet us over the next rise, or how we will handle the challenge when it comes. But He does. Other times, we may falsely believe we are traveling alone, but we never are. He truly “companions” our every step. No matter what leaf-littered pathway we have been asked to traveled, He walks it with us.