Tell Me The Story

When I am out driving on the country roads I am always looking for interesting old buildings to photograph.  Yesterday on my way home from work I drove past this old building.

It is a building that I drive by nearly every day.  It sits on an abandoned homestead site.  I usually see it from the end as I drive by instead of this view from the south. 

Today I parked my car along the roadside and got out and walked in to get a closer look at the buildings.  It was already starting to get dark so the picture is darker than I would have liked.  I will have to go back to get some sunny day photos.

Whenever I see abandoned buildings broken and empty I can’t help but wonder what the stories are from the people who lived there.  Was it a family with children?  How did they spend their days?  What games did they play in the surrounding hills?

Tell me the story was something I used to hear from my oldest daughter.  The story she is talking about was the day she was born.  She loved to have her Daddy tell her about the day she was born.  She has two older brothers and she delighted in hearing how special it was to have a little girl at our home.

Her eyes would never leave my husband’s face as he told her the story about how he went with nurses for her first bath and how I was asking everyone where my little girl was.  Her eyes would twinkle as he told her how he held her all day long the day she was born and how she was his little princess.

I try to imagine what the stories were that were told in the empty homes.  Were they stories of hardship or delight?  Stories of pain or pleasure?  I’d like to know.  I think about the people who live in our old home and wonder if they think about who lived there before them.  I wonder who will live in our home when we no longer live here.  Will it be our children living in our home or someone unrelated?

When I look at this building I imagine a family huddled around a fireplace or wood stove trying to keep warm on a cold winter’s night.  I imagine the Dad of the family telling his children the story of how they came to live in cold Minnesota and what his dreams are for their future. 

I imagine the children exploring the hills around the home and games of hide and seek.  I imagine a Mom heating water to prepare a meal, to wash the family’s clothes or for a bath in a washtub.  Most of all I imagine a family blessed to have each other to share their days in the comfort of their home built with love.

As we approach Christmas this week I love to hear the story of Jesus’ birth and His plans for our future.  It is a story that never grows old with its telling.  Take some time in the week to come to share His story.  I love how His story is told in Matthew 1:18 – 2:12. 

Each year one of the oldest men from our church sits in a rocking chair in front of church with all the little children gathered around him on the floor.  He reads by candlelight the best Christmas story ever told with all the little faces gazing upon him.  A precious sight of delight!