My Childhood Home

Mary, over at Owlhaven has a great idea for today. She wants us to write about our childhood home. I think that's a fun thing to think back about! I have to go back a few years to remember this but I think I can do it!

I grew up on a farm. When I was a kid, I didn't know how lucky I was to live where I did. I had fields around me, a creek to catch frogs in, a meteorite out in a back field (it was just a very large stone, but us kids thought it was a meteorite), hills to go sledding on and a barn to play in. One of my favorite memories is going to a hill that was out by the creek. This hill had a dry rocky side where we would go and find fossils. They really were fossils - very small ones from plants but they sure made great things to bring in for show and tell. (I still have a small bottle of them that I collected when this property was developed.) We spent a lot of time outdoors and our Mom didn't have to worry about us getting into too much trouble, other than getting stuck in mud or falling out of a tree. Our house was an old farmhouse. I hated the basement, because there was often some water on the floor and it was a dirty old basement. There was a tornado shelter that was dark, damp and I thought disgusting, and I hated to go into it when there was a warning. I shared a bedroom upstairs with my 2 sisters until I was in 8th grade and we built a new house. It wasn't a problem to share because most everyone I knew shared a room and we had a lot of fun talking and goofing around when we were supposed to be sleeping. Under the double bed I shared with my sister Terri, was a register grate. Our furnace was a gravity furnace and there were no ducts to the upstairs, so this grate was open. We would crawl under the bed and watch what was going on in the kitchen below. This was especially handy when we had a babysitter. We would watch what she ate and listen to her talking on the phone. (What naughty kids) When we heard Mom and Dad come home, we would crawl into bed and pretend to be sleeping!

When I think back to being a kid and my memories of my home, I am struck by the fact that it didn't matter that the house was old and not very big. The memories I have are colored by the fact that I knew I was loved as a child. I knew that no matter what had happened during the day, when I came home I was with my family who would always be there for me. I am reminded again of how blessed I am, not necessarily with material things, but with a God who saved me, a family who loves me and friends who care about me!

Now it's your turn - if you have a blog, write something about your childhood home and post about your blog with Mary. If you don't have a blog, you are welcome to leave a comment about it with me. Have fun remembering.