A Home With Heart

 There are responsibilities that come with owning an old farmstead.

Some are obvious, such as;

Respect the land, 

Honor the home's history, 

(and keep all that old woodwork dusted! 😉)

 But others pop up in a more subtle way...

Like when we receive phone calls from past owners, asking if they can stop by to see the place.

Homes with history need hospitable owners who understand their home still lives in the hearts of many people.

We knew we had found a very special home when such a request was asked of us only a year after moving here.

The descendants of the man who built our house came to visit, along with their descendants, (totaling 50 people in all!) and it was a very meaningful experience. 

Meaningful for them, as they got a chance to visit the old family homestead, and reminisce over past times.

And meaningful for us, as we learned the history of our home and absorbed all the stories and memories they could share.

That was over ten years ago, and we told them they were welcome back anytime they wanted.

Well, today we were visited again by the grandson of the man who built our home, along with his daughter. He grew up here, and I could tell it meant a lot to him to be back. 

He was bubbling over when we greeted them at the door. One of the first things he said was, "It is surreal to be here! I am so happy to see it's in good hands and being so well cared for."

It is always a joy to visit with this family. They are such neat people.

The daughter, who lives in California now, was very considerate. She offered to wear a mask and always asked my permission before snapping a photo.

Of course I told her, "No masks! Snap away! I'm thrilled you're here, please be comfortable."

I love hearing their memories of my home.

She told me she remembered the bedrooms upstairs, the large clock in the hall, and her grandmother's massive gardens. Whenever she was looking for her grandmother, she knew she could always find her on one of the porches.

She seemed pleased to see the porches were still here.

I put a pot of coffee on and made a few snacks...

and we walked around and visited.

They showed us where the old back staircase once was that led to grandpa's study...

They explained the original layout of the kitchen...

We heard stories of how they played basketball in the attic and roller skated in the basement...

I enjoyed hearing about his mother, who he described as a meticulous housekeeper. Animals were never allowed indoors and muddy boots were always taken off at the door...

The pocket doors in the dining room were always kept closed and only opened at Christmas, or when company was over....

They didn't have heat upstairs when he was growing up. There was one vent in the middle of the main floor where they all would huddle around to keep warm....

They were kind to share with us some information and photos of the original farmstead, which Micah and I found fascinating. We value any history we can find of our home, and keep it all in a special folder.

I like to try to imagine what life was like here one hundred years ago. It's interesting to look deeply at this woman's photograph and know she stood where I stand, worked where I work, and raised her kids on these floors and on this land.

How would she feel if she knew her descendants still held this home in their hearts and even come back to visit?

💗

Our visitors today wanted to see the trees their grandfather planted; a row of pines along the north side of the house.

We were sad to have to tell them a tornado took them out.

But we showed them the children's play cabin Micah built with the lumber from those trees.

They seemed delighted to know their grandfather's legacy lives on in that cabin.

As they were leaving I made sure to ask, "Did you see everything you wanted to see?" (We don't keep any place off limits for them when they visit, and they're all over the place when they visit; the attic, the basement, the barn, the trails...) Then I turned to my children and said, "Just think, in thirty, forty, maybe even fifty years, you'll come back here with your children and ask to see the trees your father planted."

(These pines were no taller than my hand when Micah planted them after the tornado.)

I hope in fifty years, when my children and grandchildren come back to the old family homestead for a visit, the owners then will welcome them and want to hear their stories.

It is not a fancy house, or a trendy house. 

It isn't eye-catching or up to date.

But it is warm and it is loved.

It's a special house.

It is a home with heart.

🏡

~ Courtney 

Seeing God in Little Things - A Short Story

Homeschooling is for the mamas too, you know! We learn right alongside our kids. 

So when, "How to Make Sentences More Interesting for Writing Short Stories" became the topic in Language Arts the other day, I wanted to write a short story, too. Why should the kids get to have all the fun?

I decided to jot down a true event from just this week as my short story.

And since I have no where else to place my story, I will have to park it here on my blog for the time being.

I hope it blesses you.

 🍃 🌳 🍃 

 We've been experiencing notable weather lately. While visiting my in-law's home on Sunday it was practically picturesque. Warm sun, blue sky, crisp air. Out of no where, however, we began to hear a perplexing, horrible, scratching noise. Before anyone could ask about it, we saw from the kitchen window a large tree falling to the ground. It collapsed in what seemed like slow motion, taking another tree down with it.

We ran outside and noticed immediately the tree was from the neighbor's yard. How strange! It wasn't a dead tree, its branches were filled with green leaves. It just laid there, snapped off from the base and completely filling the road with debris, blocking traffic. Even though the tree was enormous, it somehow did no damage at all to houses, cars, or people.

The following day we were over again, and I saw the neighbors out in the front still cleaning up the huge mess. I walked over to talk with them. They showed me where the tree's massive trunk just barely (but completely) missed their power box, and told me how grateful they were no one was hurt!

"This could have been so bad!" they said.

I told them about the time our property was hit by a tornado, and how we had significant damage all around the yard, yet our house was untouched. I explained to them that sometimes God puts His hand of protection on a situation, sparing people... withholding potential destruction. In those times we should acknowledge God and be thankful. Then I walked back to the house.

The very next morning we awoke to dark skies and sounds of distant thunder. I happened to read Psalm 29 in my daily Bible reading session.

"...The glory of the Lord thunders... The voice of the Lord is powerful... The voice of the Lord breaks the cedars... The voice of the Lord strikes with flashes of lightening..." But the end of the chapter finishes like this, "The Lord gives strength to His people, and blesses His people with peace."

I noticed the correlation between the weather outside and what I had just read, then I pondered for a minute on that tree collapsing - God planned how and when it would collapse and where it would land. His voice broke that cedar.

The thunder intensified as I shuffled around the kitchen, making breakfast that morning. The sky grew darker, and the trees around the yard began to shake. A storm was threatening. I intended to ignore the weather and carry on with my household duties, but the phone rang. It was my mother. She informed me that a hail storm was heading my direction, and advised me to turn on the news and consider moving my car into the barn for protection.

(We are now true country people in that we park our vehicles out in the elements to make room in the garage for the four-wheelers.)

I had so much to do that morning that I did not wish to get bogged down with news watching or vehicle moving, but I hastily made the decision to drive the car out to the barn to just be done with it. The sky was darker now, and more thunder could be heard from far off, but otherwise nothing alarming was happening. It wasn't even sprinkling. I moved the car with the feeling that the storm would blow over, proving the move to be unnecessary. 

Oh well, I thought. At least I did it  just in case.

I walked back to the house in calm, dry conditions. But as I approached the back door the sky opened up and within seconds we were being pelted with driving rain and hail. Upon entering the house I could hear the noisy tap-tap, clank-clank of hail hammering the windows. It would have definitely left unfavorable impressions on our car, but it was luckily tucked safely inside our barn.

I was so relieved!

These are the moments where it is not difficult to see the Lord's provision in life.

He prompted my mother to call me. He promoted me to move the car quickly. (Something I don't normally bother with.) Then He waited for me to reach the back door of the house before He let loose the rain. Of course I was intentional in pointing this out to my children, who watched the events unfold. I also reminded them that God cares about even the details of our lives and is always looking after us. What matters to us, matters to Him.

And about that mysterious tree... I later learned from my mother-in-law that their neighbors are not Christians, nor have they been open in the past to even hearing about the Lord.

I hope He will use what I said to plant a seed in their hearts.

🍃 🌳 🍃

"Fire and hail, snow and clouds;

Stormy wind, fulfilling His word."

- Psalm 148:8

~ Courtney