THE PAINTING IS HOMETOWN CHAPEL
by
THOMAS KINKADE
This is a letter I once wrote to a special friend, to
give him a small sample of what my childhood was
like. It is nothing special, but I hope you see some
of yourself as a child, as you read.
When I was a little girl about 9 or 10, I lived in a small
town in Ohio, and our house was at the foot of a
mountain. After supper, almost every evening, except
in winter, I would go up on the mountain for a walk
alone. I would stop at the creek flowing down through
the hollow. I used to make dams in it, and run from
johnnie crawls. Ugh! I hated those things, and was
always so afraid of their pinchers. I don't know if they
pinch or not, but I believed they did. I didn't take the
chance.
Then, I would wander across the fields on top
of the mountain, to the cemetery. It was just filled with
my ancestors and old family friends. I actually used to
stop at each well manicured grave and speak to each
of them. I really had never met any of them as all my
grandparents were still alive. I was the luckiest child
alive. I didn't lose a grandparent, till I was 24 years old.
Ohhh, did that hurt, when I finally did. Actually, it still
hurts yet today. I had the most wonderful grandparent's
any child could have had. I pray they know I miss and
love them, deeply yet today. Each was very different
but special, in their own way.
There were beautiful new tombstones as well as old
worn ones, where the dates were no longer visible.
My great grandfather was a brick layer, and he built
several small brick mausoleum's up there, with barred
windows that I always had to have a peek into. I think
I always expected to see someone come alive in one.
Yes, I did have to yell a little whoo - whoo into them,
to hear the echo.
I loved to go back to the Catholic cemetery, which
was in the back section and see their stones. They actually
had their pictures under glass on them. I thought that
was, and still think it was a wonderful idea. It was there
I would see several sweet old Italian neighbor ladies,
faithfully visiting the graves of their husbands, parents
or children everyday. They would gather greens and
poke going down off the mountain, in their apron's as
I sometimes quietly walked along with them.
Then there was a grungy section of the cemetery that
no one took care of at all. The weeds were so high you
could barely see the stones. I had always heard that this
was the section where the poor Catholics were buried,
because their families didn't have enough money to pay
the priest, to pray them out of purgatory. Sad wasn't it?
I am not sure, but that was what I was told. By the time,
I had got there I had gathered enough assorted wild flowers,
that I had enough to put on a few of the poor lost souls
graves. (not lost to God, I am sure) By that time I would
have circled the whole cemetery, and was back to the flats
where I had a view forever. Oh sooooo magnificent!
I used to be up there on the mountain about 6 o'clock
almost every evening. There was a church over next to
the river that would play chimes for the whole town to
hear. Even at that young age I used to sit on top of the
mountain and look over the city and wonder at the
beauty of the things that God had created. Right
beyond the city was the Ohio River winding around
the mountains. Such a beautiful site! There were the
buildings in the distance, dotting the city, with the lights,
just coming on. I also saw many types of flowering
wild cherry and apple trees in the spring, and with
drooping branches of fruit, in late summer. Field
flowers of all colors were swaying in the breezes.
I would be up there alone, with just God and all
those that had gone on, in the cemetery. They were
wonderful (quiet) company, and I was never afraid.
At the stroke of six o'clock, the chimes of the church
would start playing. I would find an old rock and perch
myself on top, or just lay down in the
tall grass, with a piece of grass in
my teeth, and watch the clouds form almost anything
I wanted, as the music chimed. I think that was the most
melodious, heavenly music, I ever heard. Even to this
day it is engraved into my memory.
I had to go down off the mountain and back home
before dark, which was an unspoken law. Walking
back into the house, my Mom would ask where I
had been, and I remember vividly saying to her, "Oh,
no place Mom, just out walking." I was making
memories to last a life time, and didn't know it. This
version of "Amazing Grace," comes as close as anything
I have ever heard to remind me of my wonderful
"God" and my childhood walks on the mountain.
Actually, "Amazing Grace" has a double meaning
for me. My Mom was about to leave my Dad, because
he was an alcoholic. Life was beginning to become
unbearable for her. One Sunday morning, as she
was packing our clothes to leave, this song came
on the radio, and he was very touched by it. He gave
his life to Christ, then and there, and we became a
happy family. He has been a Christian for many
years now. Thank God.
I hope you like the song too!
Love Mindy
Update: My wonderful Dad went to his
heavenly home on Sept.4th, 2000.
"Amazing Grace" was played
at his funeral.
He is now out of the abuse
and pain in this life. I miss
him so much, but I
know
he is with the Lord, my Mother, my son
and all his loved ones, gone on before. I miss and
love you all. When my days on
this earth are over, I will join you.
"MY PRECIOUS AWARD"
Thanks very much Gloria, for this very
precious award. With all your beautiful
pages, it means so much to me.
To see Gloria's beautiful work, please
copy and paste the address below.
http://gloriasglen.homestead.com/glorias.html
View My Guestbook
Sign My Guestbook
|
