Give me my scallop-shell of quiet,
My staff of faith to walk upon,
My script of joy, immortal diet,
y bottle of salvation.
My gown of glory, hopes true gauge,
And thus I'll take my pilgrimage.

~Sir Walter Raleigh

A hiker, walking for pleasure, likes to choose between several alluring trails.
The pilgrim desires only the road that leads home.

~Frank W. Boreham

Wednesday, February 20, 2013

Painting over, but the chickens stay.

"Lord, you have been our dwelling place in all generations..."

This, then has been the blessing of the house these last years of sojourn.  Stenciled with care, by the creative hands of the dear daughter-in-law,  they have been the overarching  prayer and praise. Painted on the arch, these words greeted and comforted each time entering the front door. They were/are the perfect statement of my thoughts and concept of what a home is: refuge.The big picture, the broader, greater reality is that no matter the  physical geography, our dwelling place and abiding is in Him.

Now we ready our home to become a marketable house. Painting over, while a sad thing, must be done.  Thankfully that does not alter the facts concerning our one true Refuge.  Praise Him.

But there is another matter.  The names.

If memory serves, writing the names of the Grands on a wall began three houses back - fifteen years or so.

At that time, as the pattern was stenciled, there were only nine names.  To make all  come out right names were added.  I remember that Fitzwilliam Darcy, Lizzy Bennett, Anne Shirley and Christopher Robin were among he extra chosen.  After all, the room in question was the Grands guest quarters when they visited.

But this time, with the Grands, the Lads and the Greats, there was no need to add.  Faced with this painting task, there was a heart sadness.  Then I remembered that while these are the dear names, the darlings that go with those names remain. (Get a grip, old girl)  

I confess.  I painted slowly.  Each name and the one it belonged to was thought about, remembered in a special way and then prayed for carefully as the paint was applied.  It still was not an easy task. It became a very personal meditation, a sacrifice of praise, if you will.  Sweet memories woven with hopes for the future.  Sanctified.  Blessed.

Then there is the matter of the chickens outside.  Conclusion:  outside is where chickens belong and the chicken mural, again so beautifully painted by the afore mentioned daughter-in-law will remain.  It would take a hard-hearted  person to paint over these. I leave them to the new owner as our statement "we have been here".  I do hope they continue to bring smiles.


  1. And yet, a new home with new walls to take a brush to, to rename....

  2. Awww, well you do inherit some chickens with your new home! :) And, the ones you leave behind are at least not too messy.