Dusty Roads to the Heart

Seven little boys and girls set in a straight line there on an old cement porch.  They are so cute and innocent setting there every which way.  One little girls face is turned away from the camera looking up at a grandpa and grandma setting there in two old chairs, each holding a baby boy on their lap.  The grandpa is a big man, holding that little boy on one knee, his arm tight around him.  Grandma a small petite little lady setting there in a plain dress.  A kind, gentle smile on her dear face.  Nine little cousins in all.  That was the year of 1957. An old 58 Chevy pickup is parked in the driveway of grandpa and grandma's farm house.  In the background stands a tall barn reaching into the sky.  Fourteen happy smiling young faces look out at me.  One little boy sets proud there on that old pickups cab roof.  His daddy owned that old Chevy pickup.  Ten little boys and girls stand every which way there in the bed.  One little boy's head is cocked to the side. Two little girls

Dear Dad, Today isn't any "special" day really.  Its not your birthday, or Fathers Day, or even Valentines Day.  Its just a regular day here on the farm, but my mind...my heart is wanting to talk with you...to give you a hug. You see, the other day someone sent us girls an idea for a pillow.  A little boys daddy had left and went to heaven, just like you did dad.  His mother took a shirt that his daddy wore.  She stuffed it to look like a pillow.  It was a flannel shirt with buttons down the front and a pocket on one side.  It was of colors blue, white, yellow and orange.  It reminded me of the shirts you use to wear.  On the front that mother had pinned a note and on it were these words:   "This is the shirt...I used to wear...And when you hold it...I'll be there"   Love Dad xxoo Sometimes when you are a "little person" you don't always see the love in your fathers heart.  You don't always understand why they tell you "no".

It has been three years ago now when I dialed the number of a Chiropractors office.  The reception's happy voice on the other end of the line said:  " This is Dr. ____ office.  How can we help you? My words came tumbling out.  " It may seem silly to call a chiropractor's office for my type of problem, but a good friend just told me that the good doctor teaches a class on positive thinking.  I need it badly and I was wondering how I could enroll and when. That was in September and the following January my husband {he was willing to go with me} and I were sitting in our first class.  They were once a month for a year with lots and lots of homework in between.  Along with the positive thinking class we were taught how to eat correctly and the importance of exercise. They all work together to help our minds.  I will focus on the positive thinking class as I personally benefited most from it.   If you read my post last week, you would know it was three years ago th

I have been asked quite a few times:  "How did you learn to write?"    "Did you go to college or something?"  My fast answer to both questions is,   "No. I didn't even like high school, except for the "fun" I had." But....you know I have given those two questions more thought as of late.  I have changed my answer.  "Yes, I did go to college, just not the one with all those big buildings, dorm rooms, and huge classrooms with a professor standing down in front.  In my college, I didn't learn to be a doctor, a nurse, an engineer, or a teacher.  In my college, I learned to forgive and to forget.  I learned how to say good bye to grudges.  I learned how to break down walls and let love and compassion flow into my heart.  I learned to accept myself and be thankful for the place God has put me in.  I learned to see the beauty all around me, and be thankful for all things, even the smallest little thing.  I learned how to choose to think p