Heartland

Today was rather warm and although I am inclined to complain about this (and the gathering mosquitoes), I'll instead count my blessings... The morning began with a prayer, Matthew 6:33: "Seek ye first the kingdom of God, and His righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you."
Then came my favorite drink...

Fortunately, those who have never enjoyed the infinite fruits of Central Dairy don't know what they're missing. For those who have, but have moved away...well, you're longing for it still. (Click on the link to visit the dairy. What a treat!) As for me, I know what "fresh as a Missouri morning" really means.

Church today was a blessing...It had escaped me that today was Pentecost Sunday (see Acts 2) and minister Harland did a fabulous job of reminding us of the birthday of the church. And doesn't a good sermon always work up an appetite?

Check out this month's edition of Missouri Life magazine!

And even though I prepare for bed as my chores remain but works in progress, I am thankful to live in the Heartland...so much that I prolonged my late night trip to the store in order to detour and snap this picture for you.

Missouri Waltz
~J. R. Shannon

Hush-a-bye, ma baby, slumbertime is comin' soon;
Rest yo' head upon my breast while Mommy hums a tune;
The sandman is callin' where shadows are fallin',
While the soft breezes sigh as in days long gone by.

Way down in Missouri where I heard this melody,
When I was a little child upon my Mommy's knee;
The old folks were hummin'; their banjos were strummin';
So sweet and low.

Strum, strum, strum, strum, strum,
Seems I hear those banjos playin' once again,
Hum, hum, hum, hum, hum,
That same old plaintive strain.

Hear that mournful melody,
It just haunts you the whole day long,
And you wander in dreams back to Dixie, it seems,
When you hear that old time song.

Hush-a-bye ma baby, go to sleep on Mommy's knee,
Journey back to Dixieland in dreams again with me;
It seems like your Mommy is there once again,
And the old folks were strummin' that same old refrain.

Way down in Missouri where I learned this lullaby,
When the stars were blinkin' and the moon was climbin' high,
Seems I hear voices low, as in days long ago,
Singin' hush-a-bye.

Missing Appalachia

It's been awhile since I left the

mountains. It was only a brief encounter,

but I left behind a piece (or two or three) of my heart. It beats with a

longing until I return...

"History with its flickering lamp stumbles along the trail

of the past, trying to reconstruct its scenes, to revive its echoes, and kindle with pale gleams the passion of

former days." -Winston Churchill

I love an old house...a really old house--say, 225 years old or so. Someday I'll build my 'old' house and have been looking at the plans of McKie Roth. I am not a purist, though. To me, a strict adherance to a particular period makes a statement. I like making statements (believe me, I do), but in my home, I want to tell a story...The layers of years added by a family create the history that blankets us in remembrances.

Most recently I've taken comfort in the simpler days of my childhood, and those of my mother and grandmothers. Perhaps this is why I feel so welcome at Aunt Ruthie's Sugar Pie Farmhouse. It truly is down-home goodness with a scent of warm pie.

Sugar Pie Farmhouse

"Greater love has no man than this, that he lay down his life for his friends." John 15:13

Remembering my father, Carl J. Sanders,

on Memorial Day.

1941 - 2008

This was the one verse highlighted in his small black Bible, given to him by the United States Navy during his service.

USS Franklin D. Roosevelt, Cuban Missile Crisis.

Once upon a time--
My father was a giant…and I, a small child whose hand was easily lost in his.
When I was a little girl, my father was a king…and I was his princess.
He was a character…a jovial man who played yo-yo, the fiddle, and enjoyed water fights. I was the little one who laughed.
Years ago my father was a chef. His chili warmed the cold evenings of winter. I remember this still.
When I was young, my father was a carpenter. He created treasures with his hands from blocks of wood. These gifts are with me even today.
A long time ago, my father was a teacher. I learned important things from him, like buying just one pair of shoes is never enough.
As a child my father was invincible, but as I grew older, I knew that someday I would have to say good-bye.
But once upon a time, my father was a giant and I was his child, and nothing will ever take that away.

"Our days are numbered. One of the primary goals in our lives should be to prepare for our last day. The legacy we leave is not just in our possessions but in the quality of our lives. What preparations should we be making now? The greatest waste in all of our earth, which cannot be recycled or reclaimed, is our waste of the time God has given us each day."

-Billy Graham

She had a curious sense of her own roots
twined about the old house.
-Alice Tisdale Hobart

I found this quote on a blog, My Messy, Thrilling Life. Brin is living a Freeman House dream. I want to as well.