“He and his family had a great big house. It felt as empty as a gun barrel. The old married couple had a little bitty house yet it felt full to over flowing with happiness. You couldn’t hardly turn around in it, but there was always something good a going on every time I ever visited and always something good to eat on the table.”
Last night’s video: The Thread That Runs So True 14.
Tipper
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Was talking to a family member just this morning, when we were kids…”family and neighbors took care of family and neighbors”
I grew up in a tiny house with four kids and two bedrooms. We had bunk beds for the two youngest and a full bed for the two older sisters all in one big bedroom. Mama and dad had a tiny bedroom that barely had room for a double bed and a nightstand. Our house was always filled with love. Mama washed and cleaned and made us a hot supper every evening where we all sat around the kitchen table eating together. One older couple that lived next door would come over and sit in the living room talking for what seemed like hours enjoying coffee mama made. Other neighbors would drop by to talk to dad. We always had neighborhood kids playing in our yard. One time our tv broke, and we didn’t have one for a year. It took that long to get the money for one I suppose. In the meantime, we had a big, old piano, and I had taken lessons from the older woman that lived next door. By the way, those piano lessons cost 75 cents a week—I seriously don’t know where mama got the extra money for them— but she did. Every evening, instead of watching tv, we would gather in the living room singing hymns I had learned to play. Sometimes mom and dad would sit on the couch, and us kids would make up a show and “perform” for them—hairbrush microphones in hand. Love doesn’t have to have a big house or lots of money. It just needs a family that cares about each other.
This reminds me of all the people who sat on our little porch, sometimes overflow on the floor or on the steps. And there were seldom enough beds for visitors. We had a couch that made into a bed but even then there were usually many pallets on the floors. And there was always food no matter how many people showed up unexpectedly. You have brought up many memories.
Such a sad truth to this – I am thankful I grew up where the door was always open and our table could always could sit another one or more who came along.
Lovely and so often true. People get wrapped up in possessions and lose the loving connections that make life so happy.
It’s never really about the place, it’s actually about the people.
When there is true love in a home, one will find people there with hearts to serve, an attitude of generosity and laughter is plentiful.
hi Tipper the picture that you posted on August 8th of you and Granny is so beautiful what a treasure! And praising the Lord with you for his healing touch on her life!
Bigger ain’t necessarily better as most hillbillies would attest! If there’s no love there’s no home! I’ve been in very cold mansions-like Biltmore. They can have it!!! Lol Give me a tent and peace any day over fancy digs!!! God bless you all!!
My grandparents were visiting. We had just finished our noon meal, and he had moved out to the front porch. A shabbily dressed older man came up the sidewalk, and Grandpa Chris howdyed him. My grandpa never met a stranger, and this one wasn’t a stranger for long. The two had talked a while before Grandpa sensed that the man was hungry but wouldn’t come right out and say it. My mom was just inside the house, within easy earshot, so Grandpa called to her through the screen door and asked her if she would fix a plate for the passerby. She did more. She not only agreed to feed the man, but invited him inside and sat him at the table to have his meal. We all retired to the front porch and gave him his privacy. I don’t recall all that Mom had prepared that day, but I do remember a platter of baked sweet potatoes. When our visitor left, he thanked Grandpa and my mother profusely for their kindness before continuing on his way. When mom went in to clear the table, she came out laughing and told us that no sweet potatoes were left for supper. Somehow, they all had managed to walk off.
Growing up our house was a small 3 bedroom 1 bath ranch. 7 kids. 5 of which were girls! 9 people in that small house! Loved and love my family!
Linda, there were 5 girls, wife, and then her daddy in my wife’s family and one bathroom. My father in law never saw his bathroom. He passed away 11 years ago, I joke and say the bushes around the edge of his back yard yard are just now beginning to look healthy again.
I’ve been in houses where I was afraid to touch anything or even sit down.
I’d rather visit a small home full to over flowing with warmth and hospitality than a big cold empty house any day. People reside in a house, they live in a home.
The home I was raised in was small and lot of the work in building it was done by Daddy and Granddaddy. It overflowed with joy and happiness within my family and from neighbors and friends visit. We always found room for them. My wife and I started our life out living in a single wide mobile home and was able later on to get a small double wide that I still live in. It has felt at times like living in a sardine can, but we raised our two children and sometimes our two grandchildren in it. It also allowed my wife to either work part time or even not at all and be with our children when they were small and not have put them in child care. It has kept our family close together, warm and dry and gave us a good place to sleep and eat and been filled with love for each other. What more could I ask for? I have never tried to impress anyone by what I owned.
Isn’t it the truth that genuine hospitality is felt and known. People who welcome
family and neighbors into homes made happy by love, and always in preparation of visitors with treats and meal invitations. Hospitality really is the formula for love your neighbor.
How strange is it that in our hearts we know already that money and things do not satisfy. We “learn” (not really) the same lessons over and over, forget and have to learn them again. A further odd thing is that thinking of others first creates such a welcoming feeling that what a place doesn’t have goes out of mind. I don’t remember what my Grandma didn’t have – if I ever noticed. But I remember she made gingerbread to have for the grandkids. I don’t even know if she liked it!
Amen to that, Nancy.