By Avis Richardson (Retired Reverend)
The Dream of Home
Sometimes I look around me and through the veil I see, my family in the kitchen where love flowed pure and free. Where life brought joy on sunshine each ordinary day and what once had been given would never pass away.
I see the little children who played within the house, with laughter in their corners and biscuits in their mouth. I see the old fire burning from the stove of long ago. Can smell the smoke of new cut logs and feel the warming glow.
That kept us full of goodness when troubles were about and in the deepest darkest hour somehow God led us out. Through joy and pain...
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