Wednesday, April 15, 2009


Until recently I had been working seven days a week between Casey’s and Wal-mart. My days were filled with sleeping, house cleaning and work. About three days ago I received a message from my brother, Roy,saying, “It’s been over a month since you have posted a blog.” I told him that I would post one by Wednesday. Again, he reminded me last night that it has been a month and four days since I have posted a blog. Here is the blog Roy, as promised. I hope you enjoy it..smiles.

I was thinking of what to write about and “my mind is always going going home.” A Joe Diffie Song that Roy brought to my attention over a month ago. A song that brings comfort and memories to me and my brother(s) while growing up in our house.

It will be five years since I came home in May, 2004.

My Dad, my brother, Pat, and my son, Brad, came to my apartment in Kansas City, loaded up the rental truck a week before I took that long road home.

The only thing

I see ahead is
Just the heat a rising off the road
The rainbows I've been chasing keep on fading before I find my pot of gold
But more and more I'm thinking, that the only treasures that I'll ever know
Are long ago and far behind and wrapped up in my memories of home

Home for me is filled with pleasant memories and a safe place to be. It’s a place where I can go and be “me.” A place that is filled with unconditional love. A place I needed to be after traveling down a hard road I was on.

Home was a swimming hole and a fishing pole and the feel of a muddy row between my toe

Home was a back porch swing where I would sit and mom would sing amazing grace
While she hung out the clothes,
Home was an easy chair with my daddy there and the smell of Sunday supper on the stove
My footsteps carry me away but in my mind I'm always going home

As a child, I remember rolling up my pant legs, leaving my shoes and socks behind next to the tall grass and walking along the bank of a river. The feeling the muddy row between my toes were soft and warm compare to the cold water in the springtime. All the while, the smell of the fishy river water would fill my nostrils, which reminds me of the simple times in life. Afterward, we would wash our feet in the cold water before putting back on our shoes and socks and hop into the old green station wagon to go home for ice cream at Tastee Freeze for Mom’s favorite flavor of the week on Sundays, which was lemon.

Swinging in the porch swing with mom would bring endless conversations and words of wisdoms that will be cherished forever. Although mom is no longer with us physically, memories of her will always be in our hearts. The porch swing is still there, and I am looking forward to sitting in that porch swing, watching the traffic go by and listening to her words of wisdom in my heart this spring.

Do you remember the old wringer washer? The washer was in the basement next to the outside cellar entrance door. As you walked down the basement stairs from the kitchen, it was dark, musky and full of spider webs. The shelves were covered with green Mason jars that my grandmother had canned from the many vegetable garden years before. The same washer that my brother, Todd, put his arm through when running down the cellar steps.

On laundry day, the heavy wooden cellar door would open up along with the outside cellar door and bring light in to the basement. There would be the washer and tubs for rinsing. The clothes lines would be filled with clothes flapping in the breeze.

Every week, mom would put fresh sheets on our bed after they were washed and hung out. Every week I would look forward to climbing into bed that night and take in the smell of fresh linen. There is nothing like it.

The chair I remembered dad sitting in was a salmon pink color chair with arms big enough for us kids to sit on. He would be watching a John Wayne or Clint Eastwood movie. We would be at his feet as he would shaved off a piece of block cheese with his pocket knife and give each of us a piece. On other nights he would also have a big mixing bowl of popcorn to share.

Every sunday, mom fixed roast beef dinner with potatoes and gravy, carrots and onions. I can almost taste them now.

Now the miles I put behind me ain't as hard as the miles that lay ahead
And its much to late to listen to the words of wisdom that my daddy said
The straight and narrow path he showed me turned into a thousand winding roads,

My footsteps carry me away, but in my mind I'm always going home.

When I listen to these verses, it takes me back to the Father. The road taken was away from the Father when I became a teenager and got married. Both my dad and my Father in heaven gave me words of wisdom while growing up, but I chose to ignore them. As a result, I traveled on long winding roads. When at the crossroad, I would choose the more traveled roads that were full of twist and turns and not the narrow road that was chosen for me by God.

On September 12, 1999, I returned home. I was in my easy chair in the living room and gave my life back to the Lord. There were many crossroads since then and it has never been easy. But it’s the road that I want to be on. A road that leads to eternal life. A road where I would meet people along the way and show them the door to the Father.

The heavy wooden door…. will you knock? I assure you that when you knock, the door would open and the room will be filled with light.

My footsteps carry me away, but in my mind I'm always going home. Come home.

Home--Joe Diffie

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