It has been five years since I heard him laugh or felt the touch of his hand. It has been five years since I looked into the beauty of his blue eyes or heard him call me Julie Bell. This past year has found him in more of my thoughts than in times past. I am sure that he has been there so often because it was a hard year, and when hard years come he was always a safe place. I remember when I was just fifteen years old. A small occurrence happened that seemed like the size of the universe to my young heart. He was watching t.v. on the couch. He called me to sit down beside him. I obeyed. As soon as he put his arm around me, my tears flowed like a river. He held me while I sat there and cried into his chest. He promised me that my heart would heal soon, and he was right. The feeling of safety that a Daddy's arms brings to a daughter never leaves... even when the Daddy leaves. Where there once were silly phrases like, "Cat for to make a pair of kitty britches with" now all that are left are memories of a long ago childhood. Memories that sometimes flood my mind and heart unexpectedly, and leave traces of tears running down my cheeks or laughter pouring from my lips. My older children have their own memories of this man that they called Papaw. My younger children have fewer memories of him. And the youngest child of all only knows him through the stories that are told to him.
But my memories are etched in my heart for a life time.
The musings of a godly husband and wife seeking a simpler life in today's world. Pour a cup of coffee and spend time with us as we ramble on about spirituality, raising children, farm steading, politics, sports, woodworking, and all the other things in life we enjoy.