A Touch of Heaven

 When I look at this picture, I am carried back to my childhood and the memory of a group of kids who used the pastures and fields of this old farm for their playground.

I know if I look closely at the corner of the house I will see my granddad leaning against the house in a straight-backed chair, taking a rest from the heat of the day before he goes back into the fields to work. I see a dear little lady's shadow as she passes back and forth across the kitchen door. She was always preparing the meals of the day...From early morning until late afternoon there was food cooking on the old wood burning stove. Pies or cakes either in the oven baking or sitting on the table to cool.

MY grandmother was the most gentle woman I ever knew. She raised ten children, cared for so many of her grandchildren I cannot count them now, and not once did I ever see her angry or raise her voice to any of us children. She never spanked and I cannot remember  her scolding us. Although I am sure there were times when she should have hanged us all up by the toes in a nearby oak tree, this dear Christian granny let us be children.

 I can still see the old water well sitting in the backyard, always needing to be primed before it would belch out one drop of water; and the hen house where my grandma gathered eggs using her apron as a basket to hold them.

 I remember how the smell of fresh mowed hay lingered for days after my granddad and his team of mules cut it down and left it lying in the field to dry before storing it in the barn.  

I wonder if any parts of the old barns are still standing. Is the pond still there, are the frogs still jumping in making big circles on the water; and is the dragonflies still dancing around the cattails that grew on the edges of the pond. Are the once rolling pastures now covered with trees not man planted, but God placed. I wonder if the pasture has long since reverted to its uninhabited nature. It would not surprise me if the sound of the cowbells can still be heard as in the days when they roamed the open pastures of the old home place, long ago?

Is it still a place of sweet serenity as the early dusk falls and there is not much stirring except a gentle breeze floating across the open green fields? I wish I knew if the old apple tree is still standing on the hill...

Is there an echo of children’s voices as the wind blows across the fields and pastures where they spent hours at play… can young girl's giggles still be heard coming from the spot where the old homestead stood as they made their way up the stairs to bed.  More importantly, do wild roses still grow on the green slopes, and do they have enough sun to bring them into bloom when summer returns to the place where my grandpa lived…

Growing up on that farm was like a touch of Heaven... or that is the way I see it.

Have a blessed day in the Lord!
Mary Frances King





 My dear precious grandmother....