The girls and I made the short trek to my grandparents house this week.  My Grandma and Papaw.  I've frequented their house often, since I was a little girl.  I've played in the hallways, bounded around corners, skipped and hopped outside.  Many an adventure has been had at this house.  When I think back to being at their house, not one single negative memory comes up.  It's a real-life Narnia to me.  And so, it is my greatest pleasure to take the girls there also.  

 There's my Papaw's shop, that holds things exactly as I remember them when I was little.  I like that familiarity.  The walls in this shop hold a story, they could tell many a detail of the people who have wafted in and out over the years.  The Sara that used to be frightened to even look at a cow,
and now lives on a farm with whole herds of them.

 My Grandma shared her knowledge of these succulents, which I find incredibly detailed and beautiful, and then potted some for me to take home.  She said they'd been there since they moved in, over 30 years ago I believe.  As with a lot of things in life, I think part of their beauty must come from how long they've been around.  How many seasons they've endured.  I'm drawn to things that are beautiful in a quiet, unassuming way.  These succulents have such a strength for continuing to be bravely beautiful and intricate, whether noticed or not.  

A lesson we could learn, no? 

 Some of my favorite story-tellers are hands. 

 And then, these.

 Papaw had a few green bottles he found on their land and offered to let me have them.  And then Grandma took his generosity a step further and offered to let me have a whole bag full of old bottles.  I think they are just stunning.  What secrets and stories do you think these hold?

 This is what I want my little girls to know. 
That people and their stories matter.

That God is the ultimate story-teller. 
That our histories play into our future, but certainly don't dictate the path ahead. 

That a gal frightened of animals can grow up to live on a farm. 

That what was lost can be found,
beauty can be unearthed in even the dirtiest of vessels. 

That light shining through the vessel of us makes a totally new kind of beauty.

God's light makes our lives bolder, our stories stronger,
our colors richer.

 We are all a beautiful story. 
We are page after page of old mixed with new,
beauty found in brokenness.

We are exciting chapters and hidden mysteries. 
We are main characters, 
and supporting roles. 

What story is God writing in your life?
He is teaching me to love my real-life people well,
show practical help to those around me,
and bless all.
not just "blessing the blessed". 


  1. Beautiful story Sara,beautifully told. love, Momma

  2. Thank you for the story. We have very fond and blessed memories of you being here as a little girl
    Now we are enjoying you with your little girls
    what a blessing
    Love Grandma


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