We all know how it goes… Boy meets girl. He captures her heart. She blushes as she walks down the aisle.. We all wave and cheer as they head off, full of dreams and hopes into the future… Happily ever after…

Thanksgiving season 1949, things were busy on Mole Hill… Somewhere along the line, My Pappy Rhodes spent some time in the woods, so the wedding feast boasted some venison…  Reuben and Margaret Rhodes pledged heart and hand…

One hundred and twenty miles north, two days later, Stanley and Mary Horst took the same plunge… Til death do us part… in sickness and in health… Forever and always…

So, Sixty-five years later, I think about the irony of the fact both my grandparents were married this closely together.. How excitedly they must have embarked on the journey of “togetherness”.. and the lessons life brought..

My Horst grandparents have been gone for awhile now, but there are so many memories… Granddaddy Horst referring to “the good wife”. Spending hours playing board games with them. Both of them working on cleaning up the kitchen after a meal.. (no, washing dishes is not something their only son knows how to do.. but maybe there’s hope AFTER he retires-lol whenever that will be) Life was hard for them. Granddaddy lost his dad to pneumonia when he was 3. Farming was a struggle and after years of crop failure, they sold the farm and Granddaddy took a day job building houses for Foremost… looking forward to retiring… They loved to travel, and Father remembers often taking a “drive to stay alive” and just heading several hours in one direction or another (see, it’s in my heritage 🙂 ) In fact, they were in Key West, Florida celebrating their anniversary when they called to VA to check in. And just as they were wrapping up the conversation, Father casually mentioned “Oh, by the way, you have another granddaughter, born on your anniversary.. Kendra Dawn..” Thanks for remembering to mention..

But through it all… Sickness and Health… And the last number of years of Granddaddy’s life- there was a lot of sickness… They were committed… To each other..(sure, we loved to pick on Grandmother about the men of her youth, but there was never any question..) To their family… But most importantly to the Lord… Another memory is they had matching recliners, that sat facing each other, and they’d spend hours in personal scripture reading…

My Rhodes grandparents continue to challenge me… I stopped by this past week, and things continue there much the same… They still reside at the farm they moved on to when my mom was 6 weeks old. Pappy especially has slowed down, but there are still chickens running through the yard and a horse and a few calves in the pasture… With hard work as their life story, Grandmother has managed to still plug on. It’s not uncommon to ask about her day and hear “well, I had so much work to do, that I got up this morn at 5..” And just last week, she was spotted sweeping leaves off the porch roof with a broom… (!!Much to the chagrin of her family…!!) Twenty-One years ago, she experienced a debilitating stroke, we are so so thankful for the fact that she is so spunky now…

Survivors of the Great Depression, my Rhodes Grandparents spent their lives, working hard, and saving… Pappy has nicknames for a lot of people and “Dimples” always got him a dimply smile from his lady love.. Grandmother is a wonderful cook ( and Pappy loves his food) Mother mentioned recently that thinks she has plenty of cookbooks and Grandmother says “I can sit and look through cookbooks for hours..” People of the land, my memories from Cooks Creek will be honey, fresh butchered meat (Pappy loved nothing more than to supply his loved ones with a chicken) garden produce, sewing projects, baked goods fresh from the oven… They love music, and rarely does a family gathering pass, that the song books don’t get dug out and passed around and everyone lifts their voice in Praise..

Together Still -author unknown

Let me hold your hand as we go down the hill.

We have shared out strength and we share it still.

It hasn’t been easy to make the climb,

But the way has been eased by your hand in mine…

At the foot of the slope let us stop and rest,

Look back through the years, we’ve been truly blessed.

We’ve been spared the grief of being torn apart,

By death that brings a broken heart.

The view ahead is one of the best,

Just a little bit farther  and then we can rest.

We move more slowly now, but together still,

Let me hold your hand as we go down the hill.

Photo Credit- Thelma Martin

But, maybe your family lineage looks different than mine… Or maybe you are like me, and haven’t taken the plunge and signed “the papers”… I’m afraid this commitment thing doesn’t let us off the hook, that easily… It’s awesome to see couples who are committed to each other. But our world needs more than that. We need people who are committed- most importantly- to Christ and His church… to reaching out to mankind around us… to being the Hands and Feet of Jesus… We need people who are serious about who they are, what they believe… In a fast paced, instant gratification society- we need people who understand a life time of loving, living, and serving…

This thanksgiving season, I’m thankful to be acquainted with a number of people who understand just that..

Love, Kendra

The little green house sat beside the road for as long as I can remember… Quietly… There was never too much going on, but it was easy to tell its occupants loved it. A beautiful garden beside it told me that someone had a green thumb and didn’t mind to work… But I’m not sure I ever saw the family that lived there, unless it was the elderly lady mowing the lawn…

Years rolled by and the size of the garden decreased and then disappeared all  together. Emily became acquainted with the family through her emergency response… A man and lady, and their adult handicapped daughter. The couple was called Home fairly close together and the daughter was placed in a home, thus ending the chapter.

A “For Sale” sign showed up in the front yard, and my parents inquired about it, and basically fell through an open door. And before we knew it- my parents were the excited owners of a 1931 Sears and Roebuck house, needing some repairs. I laughed at the fact that we now have our own “thirty-one” house.

So we are in the process of breathing new life into this house. Integrity Builders are doing a wonderful job and it’s really exciting. But it’s a little sad too. As I watched the process of removing the roof and adding a half story, I grieved a little for that daughter and all those memories… And took a trip down my memory’s lane… You’re welcome to join me 😉

The House That Built Me -Tom Douglas Allen Shamblin

I know they say you can’t go home again
I just had to come back one last time
Ma’am, I know you don’t know me from Adam
But these hand prints on the front steps are mine

Up those stairs in that little back bedroom
Is where I did my homework and I learned to play guitar
And I bet you didn’t know under that live oak
My favorite dog is buried in the yard

Mama cut out pictures of houses for years
From ‘Better Homes and Garden’ magazines
Plans were drawn and concrete poured
And nail by nail and board by board
Daddy gave life to mama’s dream

You leave home, you move on
And you do the best you can
I got lost in this whole world
And forgot who I am

I thought if I could touch this place or feel it
This brokenness inside me might start healing
Out here it’s like I’m someone else
I thought that maybe I could find myself

If I could walk around, you know I’ll leave
Won’t take nothing but a memory
From the house that built me

Our “old house” was so old- no one knew when it was built. “They” said pre- Revolutionary War, but when we tore it down, they said that judging from the type of saw blade that cut the lumber, it was a lot newer than that- maybe pre- Civil War… But regardless, it was on old house. It didn’t have a basement, but it had an “old part” that had been added later. A faulty foundation caused it to be uninhabitable… We just stored stuff out there and Julia and I had a blast creating trails through the boxes and rollerblading for hours. We had a loop figured out that ran from the old part, across the back porch and around Mother’s kitchen table. As long as we went the same consistent speed, we’d meet at the two designated meeting spots and could sail past without slowing down at all. How Mother kept her sanity with her wild Indian daughters is beyond me…

Julia and I shared a bedroom and it overlooked a grape arbor, until one year spray drifted from the corn field and killed the grapes… But many nights, we would watch the same annoying possum stealing our grapes. Or at one point, we had a system going to transport things from the outside up the side of the house into our room… Julia also had a flag system worked up with one of the neighbors girls who was milking at our barn so they’d know when each other was around… Or occasionally we’d climb out on the back porch roof to watch the stars…

We had two staircases,both enclosed, with a spiral in them that made moving furniture upstairs quite an art… But on very special occasions, Father would play “ghost in the graveyard” with us… which was kind of a game of hide and seek/tag… And we would thunder up one set of stairs and tear down the other, shrieking as we went… Again about Mother’s sanity… Those were good days…

The day came when the “old house” was replaced by our current residence. While we were sad to say “good-bye”, we discovered the floor joist were about to break through thanks to termite activity.. So it was time. This place is chock full of memories as well… Soft pretzel parties, ping pong tournaments, shindigs… Turning off all the lights in the house, except the one outside, and all of the family hanging out in the living room, watching the snow fall… The sound of Julia slamming the door and running for the barn… Or Deborah calling her dog… Or the tones dropping at any hour and Emily’s feet hitting the floor and running to save the day… Mother’s sewing machine humming a thousand mile an hour… Father’s animated cell phone conversations…

But when it comes down to it- it’s not the house that matters. If I were on a quest to find what shaped me- pretty sure it wouldn’t be found in that pile of bricks and yellow pine mantles that’s all that is left from our old house… Nor in the cedar siding and windows of our new place… Instead I think it’d be in the time spent with the ones I hold so dear… As I go through my memories, it’s the people in it that play all the parts… Life isn’t perfect. But, by the grace of God,we have love and the ability to laugh.. And that makes the difference.

Kendra