Dusty Roads to the Heart

Has your heart ever whispered to you? Have you ever felt the little nudge it was giving you?  Have you ever felt this way, but on the other hand you are scared. You want it so bad but will you be good enough? Will you really be able to fulfill your dream that has been hidden from the world for years? Your dream that you were afraid to let surface. A dream that you no longer can hid from the world. You can no longer keep within yourself. A dream that you have to share with others. A few weeks ago, I did something that I never dreamed possible. I called Hospice and I asked to be a volunteer. I have now been accepted and have completed my steps of fulfilling my dream. I had my picture taken and my badge was made. Every step I take toward the beauty of this new world I'm stepping into I wonder...why did it take me so long to see the magical wonderment of compassion, the magical wonderment of loving, of caring for the sick? I am not a n...

This is the season of rushing here and there. Everyone is busy preparing for family get together's. I have decided to give my dear "editor" a very needed break from her job editing my stories. It will be nice to have a little time myself. So we will not be posting anymore chapters in our book "Little by Little....Side by Side" until after the first of the year. Please come back to us then and walk with Mark and Amy as they see their Bret and Kate through  high school years, college years and finally attend their beautiful weddings. These will be the final chapters of the book. We will cry together, be happy together, and tell our young man and woman good bye as they start their life with their spouse. So until then..... Happy Holidays to all our dear friends. We hope you enjoy your families and friends.

Days turned into weeks, weeks into months, and months into years. Little people grew up. Daddy changed to Dad and Mommy to Mom. People fall in love and marry. Neighborhoods change. Geese fly north, then back again. Spring comes with buds popping out on tree branches, then summer with its warm barefoot days and wheat trucks and the smell of new cut alfalfa and cows grazing peacefully in green grasses. The leaves turn a crimson and start to fall to the ground, covering the grass. Then snowflakes fall on your nose and in your hair. So was life here on our little farm. BB guns were exchanged, with first a shotgun, and then a rifle. Pack rat hunting and turtle targets changed to walking quietly through tall grasses hoping a pheasant would fly up. A young man would so willingly get out of bed early in the morning to dress up in camouflage from head to foot, drag his sister out of her warm bed, and go sit for hours, waiting for a turkey. They would walk south into the pasture grasses on...

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 ...

"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...