Allow me a smidgen of misty-eyed nostalgia as I parade a few recollections from my old homeplace.

Good Tuesday morning to one and all where I bring you greetings and best wishes here on this March 7, 2016. As I walked around the old home place last Saturday, many memories flooded my mind and soul. I think they were played out to the accompaniment of the late John Denver singing, "Aint it Good to be Back Home Again." We moved into the house where mom and dad currently reside in 1957. That was 60 years ago. It's been changed up some, but, much of it remains the same. When one talks of going home, rarely do they mean to the actual house where they grew up. But that is the case for me and because of that it always brings back so many memories. Looking down the hallway, that single bed in the upper right photo is not the bed I slept in, but it is exactly in the position where I spent many nights sleeping on my single bed. Many nights I went to sleep listening to the long freight trains rumbling by less than 1/4 mile away. The house seemed to sway a little to the music being played on the rails. The top left photo shows the road in front of our house. Back in my childhood, there was a huge field occupying that space across the street. It was filled up with thick sagebrush type grass about 2-1/2 feet tall. It was perfect. For what? This will not be politically correct, but, there's no telling how many Redcoats and Redskins I killed out in that field or Yankee, German, or Japanese soldiers. It may have had to do with whatever stick we could find. If it was really long we used it as a musket and if it was much shorter we typically called it a machine gun. I reminded mom of the day I thought I could drive. I had never driven a standard shift. I took her for a ride into that field and it was quite a spell before I was given the chance to try again. The bottom left is where Paw Paw Mac's vegetable garden used to be. He cultivated about 1/4 acre. He used a string to make sure all his rows were straight. As I stood there I could see him in his carpenter overalls standing at the end of his hoe handle, wiping the sweat from his brow. Such memories. Precious indeed! The last photo is of that killer clothesline where we learned more than once how it was not a good idea to play chase in the dark. I know the lines are not the ones from way back then but those posts are the ones Paw Paw put into the ground. Next door, Paw Paw's and Granny's house still stands. It's been remodeled and changed, but, when I looked at it, my mind's eye saw those steep stairs leading onto the front porch. I could see that living room where we played. And, yes, I remembered too many caskets of loved ones that had been set in that same room. I know. When I walk down memory lane I tend to hit every mud hole. While I might have ended up with some mud on my shoes, I really did enjoy my walk.

On Sunday morning I was up a little after 5 a.m. I plugged in their percolator and waited for it to quit burping. I watched a Charles Stanley sermon and one by Dr. David Jeremiah. I walked outside with my coffee. It was misting rain. It was maybe 60 degrees with a slight breeze. It made me feel good all over. Later, when mom got up, I watched several Church broadcasts with her. I turned up the sound really loud so she could hear the music and the preaching. My eardrums were recoiling a little but I could tell she was being ministered to. That's her sitting at the breakfast nook. Because of her failing eyesight, she can't see any detail on the screen but she knows where the TV is situated and she can tell when the light changes. Dad said she always wants to see her preachers on Sunday morning. Her routine for most of her entire life was to be in her place at the Church they attended. She now has a new routine where she can still be fed the Word of God. I believe those 'old habits' passed down from her parents to her and from her to us children, well, they were then and they still are, good habits. Amen.

Home is a special place. My wife and her siblings have always loved to reminiscence about their days down on the farm. Literally. By all accounts, they were pretty much impoverished, however, their recollections always have portrayed a family who loved, laughed, and enjoyed the life God had given to them. They give the notion that perhaps they were much better off before they became better off, if you get my drift. That tells us all that the niceness of a building or the abundance of modern conveniences does not provide a home for a family. It is the love of God and love for one another that turns a location into a loving place. Okay. My grammar correcting utility is about to have a conniption. He can't believe all the dangling stuff I've thrown onto the page today. My sentences are too complex. My prepositions are all tangled up. That means I had better quit before I end up making a bigger mess. Thanks for showing up today. Go with God and may He bless us all is my prayer. Amen. ....More later.