Their Memories of Home

While I was in the kitchen tonight, making homemade beef stew, I watched the sun set out the front window. I turned on a lamp and tidied up. I stirred the food and then turned on some old gospel music. This is the kind of music my father listened to in the house, while we children were growing up. I kept playing one song over and over again, "Without Him," because there is a portion of the song, where the singer almost cries and says, "My Precious Jesus... without him... how lost I would be.." And tears came to my eyes.

Lately, I have been listening to Beethoven and Bach while I clean my house. This background music is quiet, but it is heard by all. Somehow, my soul got weak and dry and tired. And I forgot about the joy and sorrowful happiness I get from listening to "Daddy's" Old music.

Then I remembered my goal as a mother. I don't want my children remembering me as worldly, or even grumpy! I want them to remember me reading the Bible each day with a contented spirit. I want them to remember me listening to the old gospel songs and seeing the soaring faith from the look in my eyes.

Their memories of home. . that will teach them. . . those things cannot be conveyed in words. This kind of life is passed on from generation to generation, but only if we remember to make the effort to do the old tasks - the old religious duties.

Blessings
Mrs. White

Grandpa's example - Holiness from the Gragage.

Very difficult - Fighting the Money - Seeking Mentality

Precious - An Old Fashioned Home


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