Grandma's Quilts

I have always had a hard time dealing with change, no matter how great or small.  Whether it is saying goodbye to a loved one, moving to another state, tearing down a fence, rearranging a room, or breaking a pair of shoes.  I love being in my "comfort box" and find happiness there.

When I visited home a few weeks ago, I was faced with the reality that my grandparents are moving out of and selling their home.  For the past three years I've turned my back on that conversation, only to wipe tears out of my eyes as I walked away. While I understand that sometimes life changes and we have to let go of some things to let new things in, the selfish side of me wants them to stay in that home forever.

As we went through their things that they would keep and the things that they would part with, I fought back the lump in my throat so I could act like the 23-year-old that I am, and not the 12-year-old that I desperately wanted to act like... However, as we rummaged through boxes and pantrys, I quickly realized that it's not holding on for dear life that makes the life worth living - it's the memories of that life.

They gave me several of my great-grandma's quilts she made forever ago, and though she passed years ago, her memories are still with us.  And though sometimes life is tough and we have to deal with things we'd rather turn our backs on, the memories of what used to be will always be there.

Those quilts, which now decorate my livingroom in my Arkansas home, tell a thousand stories of the past and keep the memories fresh in the present.  And maybe one day I can pass them down to my granddaughter who is having trouble dealing with the fact that sometimes change is tough - because I'm sure that is a highly heritable character trait, as I got it true blue from my dad.  And I'll tell her stories of our family, farm, and home, and how nothing runs deeper than blood, even if sometimes moving boxes out of one ol' home into a new one is one of the hardest things she's ever done.

Wordless Wednesday

The definition of 'happiness'

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Size:9

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Asking $100, OBO
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Little Mountain Church House

At our church in Viney Grove, Arkansas, we have a sing and picnic every Sunday their is a 5th Sunday in that month.

Yesterday, we heard a bluegrass band called New Highway and they sang a song that really "hit home."  'The Little Mountain Church' reminded me so strongly of the Methodist church I grew up in and that "it was there in that little mountain church house I first heard the Words I base my life upon."

Tiny country churches were the cornerstone in so many folks' lives that are in the rural communities across America.  And I know that with listening to that song just once, so many of us can be taken back to what I really good in our lives.

There's a little mountain church in my thoughts of yesterday
Where friends and family gathered for the Lord
Where an ol' fashioned preacher taught the straight and narrow way
For what few coins the congregation could afford

Dressed in all our Sunday best, we sat on pews of solid oak
and I remember how our voices filled the air
How Mama sounded like an angel on those high soprano notes
and "When the Roll is Called Up Yonder I'll Be There"

Looking back now that little mountain church house
Has become my lifes cornerstone
It was there in that little mountain church house
I first heard the words I based my life upon

At the all day Sunday singing, with dinner on the ground
Many were the souls that were revived
While the brothers and the sisters who've gone on to Gloryland
Slept in peace in the maple grove nearby