Thursday, August 12, 2010
NEVER FORGET WHERE YOU'RE FROM
WHERE HE'S FROM................
He's from an old tree shaded home filled with books and a pocket full of memories and hearing "Quit that". A brother named Bryan and the taste of his mama's hot corn bread and turnip greens.
A place where old people stared down from pictures on the walls. His mind sees today the squirrels running to and from him and Gary as they try to behave and the memories of his mama's chicken and dumplings.
From a place of old dogs, boyhood friends and fresh sliced tomatoes. His heart still hurts from being called a little s.o.b. He's from the place of remembering a much older brother named Doug.
To put to rest and in the past are the times he was told "You ain't worth two cents" and "You ain't worth the powder to blow you to hell". Gone are the old trucks, the horses and his daddy. He's from a place where then and today he can still own a gun.
Alive with joy are his memories of teapots and Mama, her pride in the garden and the meals she lovingly made. Bisquits like none other; fig jam and fresh yard eggs. He's from a place where today he knows Jesus loves him because she first told him so.
AND WHERE SHE'S FROM...
for a little while
it had been forty-four years since I
stood on this lawn.
We had gone back to a family reunion.
Gone back to the place where I'd lived
for almost fifteen years.
A place where I took my first steps, fell in love for
the first time when I looked into the face of my mother.
Met my precious baby brother for the first time.
A place where I formed relationships,
made friends. Learned acceptance
and faced rejection.
A place where my mind opened up to learning,
to art and music appreciation.
I grew here and grew up here.
I knew security and stability.
Many years would pass before I would know again
the feelings that having a home could bring.
I looked. I searched and so very many times
I longed to give those feelings to my own children.
The people were all in place. Some no better,
most no worse.
But the walls were not as firm.
Was it the walls which made this home?
Don't tell me it was the people.
You just don't know.
They had fallen as many times as the ones to follow.
Scabbed up just the same.
I think it was the thread. The knot always stayed knotted.
Sometimes fraying but never coming undone.
They don't make thread today like they did back then.
It looks the same, in many cases, even better.
It promises to do the same. To perform as well or better
but it is somehow just a cheap imitation.
I don't know what I expected to find when I got back home.
Most grateful was I that it was there at all.
and the place seemed to have shrunk.
It had become a house. No longer a home.
You could just tell by looking.
Perhaps those who lived there
were looking, searching and maybe
Put upon hard caring for the handicapped one residing in my home.
I found something much different than I had left so long ago
but I found more than I expected to find
It was the memories I had burried;
was able to dig them up and place them back
in my heart.
A place for them to remain safe and private
to be taken out and re-visited time and time again.
The memories...they were the thread
The thread is still strong
I can mend with that thread until
my days are over.
I can teach with that thread
I can spread joy and love with that thread
I can share Jesus with this thread
the threads of my past have made me stronger today.
I'm thankful I have another home today
it was a long time coming.
I like to think of it as one most blessed
a tale of two homes
one I came into
and one I will leave from.
Stopping off houses
until I go to my home
where no thread can break
no lease can expire.
Do you ever stop to remember where you first called home..............It seems the older I get the more vivid are my early memories.
Mostly good ones.
Can you close your eyes and see your home. Can you smell the smells..........touch what was dear to you...
Can you hear your parents call you in from playing?
Do you long to go back
No.....I didn't think so but it doesn't hurt to remember
in fact I think it helps
Helps us to be more thankful of what we have today and helps us reclaim values and traditions that shaped us into who we are today.
Sometimes it's not always good to completely shut the door on the past, perhaps we should leave it cracked open just a tiny bit.
Posted by Mollye at 6:35 AM