Sunday, April 10, 2011

Dearest God,

How do you know our heart's desire? How do you create the environment for an answer to prayer?

I have longed for a return to the family farm. I wanted to walk the rooms where love lived, welcoming family, friend, and stranger all the same. I wanted to breathe in the memories, perhaps catching a glimpse of the past.

Today we traveled the hour drive to the hospital to spend time with my ailing uncle, one of my favorites. We talked about his childhood home so when we left I asked my husband if he would mind if we drove past our revered family farmhouse.

As we drove slowly by I saw a man working close to the gravel road. I asked Harold to stop. I got out of the car and identified myself. Tom took me into the house and showed me an old sign and then he handed it to me.

Over the next two hours I got my wish. I carefully stepped down the ancient, rickety steps to the old musty cellar where Grandpa used to make birdhouses. I moved to the other side where Grandma used to store all her preserved foods. By the old rock concrete shower I saw the ghost one of my cousins had drawn where we once made a haunted house.

Back upstairs I stood in the dining room recalling the dozens of African violets near the window, the buffet and huge dining room table and chairs, the antique table and Zenith radio from the 30's or 40's. I could see the homemade food lined up on the buffet and table and I could hear my family carrying on wondering when we were going to eat.

The owners took me into the front room where my father and uncles were all born in the log house. I told them stories and they asked me questions. Then we moved to the only bathroom and then to the kitchen where we had to step down a small step. I swear I could smell the roast cooking in the pressure cooker. I showed her where the hand pump used to be before they brought in indoor plumbing. I could see my aunts, mother, and grandmother canning tomatoes and I remembered sitting at the table where Grandpa read us the Upper Room devotion and prayed before breakfast.

I opened the door and stood where the old broken down stoop used to be where I sat with my grandmother breaking green beans. I looked out in the woods and caught a glimpse of when we grandkids used to explore, pretending we were George Washington and Daniel Boone. I remembered wading in the creek.

Back on the front porch I recalled the countless times Grandma opened the door to all of us, the aromas of favorite foods wafting outdoors. I pointed to the hill where we used to slide down in the winter and the place Grandma planted the truck patch that fed family, friends and needy families in town. All in all I was flooded with the sweetness of bygone times with people I loved most in all the world. As we started to leave, I told the lady that the foundation of their home was built on so much love.

As we drove down the hill and back up and made the couple of twists in the road, I gazed at the land made so happy by my grandmother's presence. I wasn't dressed properly to walk down the valley and over the slight hill to the creek to stand in the water or to lean down to smell the wildflowers growing but what I did do was breathe out my prayers of thanksgiving for the many gifts and blessings provided throughout the years to so many.

Generous God,
how can
I ever
thank you?
How can
I ever
bless you
for all
your blessings
to me?
You touch me,
inspire me,
grace me,
forgive and
love me.
You provide
so much.
I haven't
the ability
to show you
all my gratitude.
Thank you,
thank you,
thank you.

Love always, Andy