Scott City Musings: Warm to the heart

I was driving down to church the other evening when I drove past an old friend’s house. The old gardener probably passed away 20 years ago and his dear wife only a year or two ago. One of the kids still lives there. As I drove past, the thought came to mind, I’ll bet the old brick home is cold and I was kind of thinking cold from lack of heat. But my mind also jumped on the thought, maybe cold feeling wise because Mom and Dad were gone. I’m not even sure how to say it or even how to describe it but them being gone made a difference.

Back in the ’50s and ’60s, we’d go up to Grandpa and Grandma’s old sod house and there was a warmth there, a feeling of family, a “you're welcome” kind of feeling. A good expression from back then was “the old sod house was lived in.” Being a sod house the windowsills were deep, maybe almost 2 feet. Grandma had these filled with spider plants and geraniums and violets. Some were mature, while others were just starting out as sprigs or cuttings in glass quart jars. Grandma probably had her apron on. It was the kind that had a loop over the neck and tied in the back. There were pockets in the front with a cloth hankie in them. Usually, something was cooking in the kitchen and the smell made one’s belly growl. But there was a warmth there that was more than heat from the old coal oil stove.

There were times we went to some friends of Mom and Dad's and there wasn’t that warmth. The house was plenty warm heat-wise, but there was a coldness there that you felt. We seemed to be welcome, and I enjoyed going there to visit, but it wasn’t like Grandma and Grandpa's. I don’t know why there was a difference, but there was.

But on the other hand, I remember a little house a couple blocks west of the old post office in Arthur, Nebraska. It was a little two- or three-bedroom house with low ceilings and a kind of flat roof. Mom and Dad used to sell the old couple eggs and cream. I think it was Steinke’s house. It seemed like Mrs. Seinke always had cookies or sweets or something to eat. What I remember is that it felt like home. Inviting. Warm. Friendly. Maybe it was the cookies or the open door inviting you in or the friendliness of the Steinkes. I don’t know.

The size of the home or the income level of the inhabitants doesn’t seem to matter. For many years, I installed alert systems that notified authorities if there was an accident. Falls or medical emergencies could be called in and First Aid notified immediately. From plush huge homes to one-room dilapidated trailers it didn’t matter. When I walked into the homes some felt, feeling wise, warm and inviting, while others were cold and unfeeling. The fanciness of the home, nor the size didn’t seem to make a difference. Some simply weren’t inviting while others seemed like they rolled out the “You're Welcome” mat.

So what makes the difference? One thing I fully believe makes a difference is the house is filled with love, love for each other and for their guests and love for life. Love is invisible, but just as real as the ground we walk on. But along with love, I wonder if there isn’t a presence there, a Godly presence if you will. When I was in Seminary, one of the teachers, a mentor of mine, would talk about when we as young preachers would visit the sick or the needy. He said we didn’t need to say a whole lot simply because God’s presence was there with us. This presence is a constant companion to those who believe, whether at home or wherever we are.

As we journey into the Christmas season, let’s endeavor to make our homes a sanctuary of love and peace and blessing.

Just me,

Rennie

Phillips began life as a cowboy, then husband and father, carpenter, a minister, gardener and writer. He may be reached at phillipsrb@hotmail.com.