Mourning doves and trains

I've taken notice, the last few mornings...I hear the mourning doves on the roof of the neighbor's house. They may have been there all winter, but it seems that only now I'm turning a keen ear to hear them again. And now and then, I hear a train rolling by, two miles down the road from my house. And those two sounds, together, remind me of my childhood...hot summer days and snowy Thanksgivings in the sleepy town of Chapin, Illinois. The first time I remember hearing mourning doves was when I would first wake up in my grandpa's house...I couldn't have been more than six or eight years old. And the train would come through Chapin twice a day, if I remember correctly...once early morning and again around 10pm. If I think about it, I can still smell my grandpa's house, the warm feeling when I walked through the back door into the kitchen; I can see the old stove, the white enamel table that sat against the window, right next to the sink. When I close my eyes, I can still walk through the house...the leaded glass in the front door that, when the sunlight hit it just right, would throw colored light into the foyer. It was here, in Chapin, that I grew to love the simplicity that life could hold...time was just on hold when I came here. 

My sweet grandpa ran the only general store in this town of 300...a store that smelled of nutmeg and aged wood, and sold everything from union suits to nails to Borax. I acquired a taste for ice cold Frostie Root Beer and cinnamon candies, scalloped oysters (without the oysters), pumpkin pie and Norman Rockwell.

And my grandpa was a treasure to me...the only grandparent I ever knew...and what a fascination he held for me! Somehow, those sights and smells and sounds seem to be right here, right in front of me now, and I can remember the peace and joy I found in the simple gentleness of those days in southern Illinois. 

Now, I sit before my computer, sometimes still fighting a losing battle with technology, video downloads and weak internet connections on my iphone. And off in the distance, I might hear the distant horn on the passing train or the sweet cooing of the doves next door, and I stop...and I'm thankful. I'm am thankful for the One who brought me into my family, into this time and this place, for such a time as this. All those days in Chapin, the days of my childhood, the mistakes and wrong turns of young adulthood, have all brought me to today...and I am who I am by His grace alone! I am thankful that the tapestry of my life included so much family, so many experiences, richness and brokenness. And so I've come to another day, shaped and fashioned for His use and His glory...and I'm thankful for it all. 

Gracious Father, would you remind me today, to embrace the simplicity of sitting quietly in Your presence, seeing the beauty of creation and hearing you speak gently through Your word. And help me to be thankful for every good gift that comes from Your generous hand.