down on the farm

While I was looking for pics for yesterday’s post, I came across some from October 15, another day the girls didn’t have school (Ohio-wide teacher something-or-other). Bethany and I met Mom at Grandma’s and then headed back to Mom and Dad’s for awhile.

When we were a few hundred feet from their driveway, we passed a couple of farmers combining the last row of corn in a neighboring field. When we realized who they were, we backed up and jumped out of the van to say hi.

That’s my uncle Tim (one of Dad’s five brothers) on the left and our long-time friend, Wes, on the right.

I talked them into getting their picture taken. I may or may not have implied that it would be the only one I’d make them pose for.

But the sky was so blue and the combine so yellow and the field so open and expansive, I couldn’t resist getting a closer look at it all. Stunning, huh?

This whole little unplanned and unexpected excursion filled me with warm, nostalgic fuzzies coupled with a nagging feeling that time is marching on and people are getting older (I’m 35. Wowza. And my parents turn 60 in a couple months.) and nothing will ever quite be the same again.

But I think as long as we live in the moment and make the most of every opportunity God gives us, we’re going to be a-okay.

I love this pic of Ava and Isabelle. Ava’s got some killer natural mothering instincts. Little ones love her.

She asked me the other day while we were driving if we could adopt a baby. I wasn’t sure what to say, but I’ll admit, I tried to sway her to my point of view–I’m so done with the baby thing, but an older child? That’s another story. God, you let us know.

Ava and Isabelle are six years apart, just like Bethany and me. It’s hard to imagine that someday they might be married and having babies at the same time.

This is my mom and dad’s house. Sigh. Something about this picture just makes me want to curl up on the porch swing with a bunch of pillows and books and a tall Tupperware cup of grape juice and be 14 again. I know one thing–I never appreciated that sky and those fields back in the day.

A lot has been written (and sung) about Going Home Again. And really, out of all the places from my past, there’s nowhere I care to go again (that I can think of off the top of my head) except for my mom and dad’s house. (Well, except Okinawa. And Cambodia, but that’s not really the “past”–just a few months ago.)

Mom and Dad’s (and Gabe’s mom and dad’s too) just feels homey. And comfortable. And safe. And smells really good. Except when you’re downwind from the neighbor’s pig farm.

Do you like Going Home? What’s your favorite part of it?

12 thoughts on “down on the farm

  1. Rhonda

    Our family moved several times while we were growing up. Now we live on my parents’ farm just a field away from them and my sister is a field away on the other side. I wouldn’t change a thing. I love having family so close. Even though my parents didn’t live there until I was grown, I find that wherever they are is the place where I feel a warm, fuzzy, homey feeling. Everything tastes better at their house too. I’m so thankful for my family. Part of the reason I became a foster parent was that I felt a strong need to be a good steward of the family God blessed me with.

  2. katie neer

    this post and your last one made me a little homesick 🙂 i didn’t appreciate the beautiful scenery back home either. till i lived here in FLAT indiana for about 8 years then one weekend we were home and God opened my eyes to all the hills we grew up around. i had never noticed them before.

  3. Jen Hanson

    I love going home my parent’s house. They live in the country and all the fresh air makes me never want to exhale, but just keep breathing it in. Plus, because they are so far from the city, the stars at night are beyond incredible. I love it.

  4. Sheree G.

    This is so great, I am such a nostalgic nut. But what really caught my attention was the adoption suggestion; God is surrounding me with this theme lately. Which is rather bizarre, considering I am a single mom of 2, working full-time ministry, and barely making ends meet. But that is where God comes in, and I love it. He will prepare and make a way where He wants. I must choose to be the willing servant, living in the middle of His will. Thanks for the post!!

  5. Cheryl Pickett

    I happen to live next door to the home I grew up in and my parents still live there. My house is the farmhouse house my mom’s parent’s lived in when I was younger. There’s good and bad to both situations but mostly good.

    There’s a lot new now that it’s our house, but on occasion there will be a certain smell or something else that triggers a flashback for me of when it was my grandparents home and that’s pretty cool.

  6. Krysten

    I love going home! I lived on a farm my grandparents bought and they gave their daughters (one is my mom) land to live on. I only live a few miles away now and am hoping to be able to move back “home.”

  7. ali

    I didn’t grow up in the same house, so going home is going back to the house where I spent my high-school years and other misc. years when I lived at home in my adulthood. But nonetheless, it’s cozy. And it’s natural. And I still feel awkward using the guest bathroom and not MY bathroom upstairs.

  8. Claudia Porpiglia

    I am not a terribly nostalgic person but the few times I have gone back to my hometown, I have enjoyed going by the houses we lived in, the church we attended, my high school. Driving by certain areas will cause me to think about certain people and almost always bring a smile to my face. The last time I went north, I drove by the Dairy Queen where my parents would take us (in our PJs) for ice cream in the summer…All these years later it is still there.

  9. Rachelle

    I am lovin’,lovin’ these pics! We also run New Holland combines, to harvest wheat and grain sorghum (not corn).Those “yellows” are a fairly rare sight in this area. I guess there’s some sort of fraternizing that goes in with guys that run the same type of machines as you… 🙂
    Oh how I love rural life~ What I love more is the way your daughters are having their hearts broken for others, thank you Jesus for allowing us to witness your mercy.

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