I wrote this post several years ago but with moving away from my hometown several weeks ago, home has been on my mind a lot, so I loved reading back over this post.

Thank you Lord for the wonderful godly home I grew up in. We were not perfect but love, so much love, joy and peace filled my life.

My childhood home, was the home I was brought straight too from the hospital and lived there until I married. All of the streets in our neighborhood were named after trees and my street was Elm. I didn’t think too much of it growing up, for you see it was big, old and rambling. Large rooms, all hardwood floors and had four fireplaces. At the time, all my friends lived in new subdivision or apartments and I thought that was so cool. Of course, today I love big old rambling house and would pick one of those any day over a new home. Actually, I have only ever lived in one new home and I hated it. Every other house I have had has been older. There is just so much character in an older home.

My father died when I was a year old and my grandmother moved in with us. My mother worked, so she took care of me during the day. After she moved in, one of her nephews convinced her to build a small house on our property. He convinced her that Mother would one day remarry and that she would need a place to live. Of course, this nephew just happened to have a construction business and was more than happy to build this house. Well the house was dubbed “the little house” and it was never lived in. Several of the rooms were used for storage and one big room was what I called my playhouse. It was an actual house albeit it small but it has windows and curtains and all my friends thought my playhouse was so cool and of course, I did too. Oh we had many mud pie meals that we cooked in my little play kitchen. I remember our “husbands” were always Starsky and Hutch. (lol) I can’t tell you how many hours were spent in that playhouse and oh the memories I have today.

Our house was in a cul-de-sac and it had a long circular driveway that went from the side of the house all the way around the back. My friends and I spent much time riding our big wheels and then later bicycles around that driveway. We also spent a lot of time pretending it was a road that was taking us to far away places.

All my friends love coming to my home and it was always the place where we all hung out even as teenagers. There was just something there that everyone felt and that was loved and safe.

When ever I think of home, I always think of country breakfast that were cooked every morning and big southern breakfasts that were cooked every Sunday before church. You would never find a day at my house where there were not homemade biscuits made and a cake of cornbread, as my grandmother called it. Supper was eaten together every night as a family. We only had one TV until I about 13 or so and then Mother got me one for my room; I still never really watched it unless I had friends over. So most all of our TV watching was done together as a family. I know every Saturday night; we watched The Carol Burnett show without fail, as Mother was fixing my hair and my grandmother’s hair for church the next day.

Home to me was a safe haven. No matter what I might do and in all honesty I didn’t do anything but typical teenage stuff, I always new I could come home and be welcomed and loved. I never worried my Mother. Oh sure she worried because she was a mother but I never did things to intentionally worry her. To this day, I have never failed to call her if I am running late. I don’t like to be worried and don’t want to worry anyone.

We lived in an older neighborhood and summer nights, would find neighbors visiting and sitting out on the porch. I remember sitting in the swing with my Mother so many, many nights. It was a safe time and you never worried about robberies or such around our area. To be honest, we are still small enough that we don’t have to worry now about such things.

I remember reading books under the trees and playing Barbie’s with my girlfriends. Oh and I loved playing school and even got a real chalkboard for Christmas one year that I loved. I remember playing for hours on the swing set in the backyard. I remember game nights around the kitchen table, prayers at bedtime and Bible reading during the day.

Every Saturday my Mother baked a cake, for you just never knew what company might stop in after church on Sunday.

Holidays were always big meals and blessed times. Every Thanksgiving night, we always put up our Christmas tree without fail and as a child that was so exciting.

All happy wonderful memories. I place where I always felt safe and loved. However by the late nineties the neighborhood had started to go down. My grandmother died in 1998 and I did not like Mother living there alone. So in 1999 she sold the house to a developer and the house was torn down. That was a hard thing for me to see but the memories can’t be taken away from me and for that I will always be thankful.

Much love,

Lyndy