Dusty Roads to the Heart

I stand at the window of our little home on the plains. Behind me the fire burns warm and strong behind the hearth. I am warm, I am safe...I am warm and I am safe, but my heart, my soul, my mind, is outside this window. Its outside this window because someone I love is out in the storm. Outside the storm rages. That dark, black cloud bank had appeared in the west and had climbed all day toward our little farmstead on the plains of the west. Then the snow started to fall thick, the north winds howl around the little house, beating at its walls, its windows, its door, threating to break in. But I was safe and warm, but he had gone outside into the storm to put the milk cow and the horses into the barn. I stood there at the window, looking out into the raging storm, watching for the small flicker of his lantern telling me he is coming home, but I see nothing. What can I do? How can I help? I want to fling open the door and run out into the storm...screaming his name...looking arou

"Who will give me five?" "Now six?" "Seven anyone?" The auctioneer stood beside the flat bed trailor pointing his finger to first this person and then that one. "Seven....seven.....gone to number 36" He turned to the guy standing on the trailer and asked. "Now what do we have here?" "Looks like a couple of nice looking pitch forks. Who will give me ten for both?" It seemed just like yesterday that dad and mom had moved to the ranch down on the creek where they lived for some 25 years. Mark and his siblings have great memories of their days there on the ranch, checking the fence and cattle. Putting up hay up the creek under the stars. Harvesting wheat way into the night. Listening to the turtle dove, or the pheasant or the quail as they called to each other down by the creek on a quiet summer day. Fighting snow drifts and blizzard conditions to feed the calves across the creek. Riding three miles to the mailb

Sometimes the deepest, heartfelt lessons are learned at the bedside of your dear gray haired friend. At the bedside of someone who is far wiser that yourself. At the bedside of someone who has loved you like a daughter. This is my story. Those three little words "I love you" are so small but yet so strong, so beautiful. They are as beautiful as God Himself. They can go deep into the human heart, softening every part and changing you for always. Those three little words can bring you pure sunshine, especially if they are whispered into your ear by a dear friend. I have regrets. I have very deep regrets. They tear deep at my soul, my heart. You see when my own father, my dear husband's mother, and a small number of my other dear friends were in the hospital, I could not go to them. I have never stepped my foot into a hospital room. I just couldn't. I couldn't because my heart was not willing to trust. So I will forever live with regrets. I will forever wish I

It was a beautiful May day. Bret and Kate stood with me, one on both sides, my arms around their small sholders. We were gathered in a quiet little country cemetery. My eyes rested on Mark as he stood behind the hearse, beside five other men. They reached out and quietly lifted the casket out and slowly placed it under the green tent. Our dear friend Roy was gone. It was so hard to believe. He left a deep hole in the farming community and an even larger one in our little family. He will never know how much he meant to Bret and Kate, and both Mark and me. Just last night, our family gathered around the piano to sing a few hymns. We would do this once in a while. We would take turns choosing a hymn each. Last night Bret asked us to sing a certain one and then he said, "I dedicate this to Roy." He was not kidding. He was a very serious little boy that evening. Roy meant the world to our children. He meant the world to us and left a huge hole, but one thing we knew was th

Every wife likes to feel special don't we? Even us "farm" wifes. I love being a farm wife, don't get me wrong. It always makes me feel special, but just an "ordinary day" special. You know like: "Oh yea honey could you stop past Del's while your in town? The starter for the White is done and ready to pick up." Or during wheat planting time: "Honey I don't want to stop for lunch so could you bring it to me....say 12:30?" Note: I was to bring him lunch....no mention of "I wonder if you would plant {actually drive the tractor} while I went home to eat lunch." Then there is: "Could you run to the elevator and get 3000 pounds of Rock 40 fertilizer and bring it over to the south 80?" Or riding with him so you can spoon hamburger hash and pieces of baked potato and beans into his mouth so he can keep the combine moving. How could he ever trust you to drive that huge monster? Or when we are fixing fence. He