I don’t even have to close my eyes to envision the home of my youth. “The barn” as Dad would call it, that huge wooden structure held together with love and Dad’s carpentry skills. When we lost Dad, that reality became obvious as the structure began to show its age with incredible speed … but until then, it was home, and it was beautiful.
I remember the trees – huge, natural, they made up the back yard. You could walk for less than a minute and lose sight of the house. Often, we pretended we were off on some adventure or lost in the deep back country, knowing full well that home and safety were waiting at the bottom of the hill.
The lake – I cannot even sum up the beauty of the lake when viewed from the upstairs window. A two-story house and the hill we lived on meant an unobstructed view. The lake – crystal clear, the sky – a brilliant blue. Heaven accessible, simply by pulling back the curtains.
The animals reminded us almost daily that this was as things should be, how Creator designed them to. How many times, as children, did we squeal as the partridge family made their way down the driveway, or the stray fox cruised by, and could we ever forget the night the bear decided it should be IN our back porch? I doubt it. That’s the stuff dreams are made of, dreams or amazing stories.
And the best part … Mom and Dad. In that house, Dad smiled often as the love of his life chased the kids around, fretted about bills, and made dinner. Then it was her turn, and Mom went off to work while Dad maintained the home. Her smile … could stop traffic. When they looked at each other, I swear the world disappeared. He thought of her as a true gift, his gift, and she would kill for the man she adored.
Do I fear the end of my life? Do I believe in heaven? How could I not? I lived there for seventeen years, thanks to Mom and Dad and humble beginnings.
I love you!
HUGSSSSSSS
Sandi
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