They say life is stranger than fiction. I concur.
When last I wrote my kids and I were vacationing in the Pacific Northwest and having a great time. We went to the market in Seattle, saw the country side in and around Bellingham, spent much-needed time catching up with family and even managed to get in some whale watching. It was one of the best and dare I say most comfortable vacations I’ve ever been on.
Thank you to my brother and sis-in-law for being the best hosts ever!
Everything was lovely until 12:03 am on 7/7/15. I received a phone call…my home was on fire. I was in shock and a little disbelieving. I wanted confirmation. It didn’t seem possible that my beloved family home was burning to the ground and I was in Washington helpless to do anything about it. A video was taken on a phone and sent to me. I could see the second story was outlined clearly by the tall flames shooting out from the roof. I woke my brother up and shortly the rest of the house was up too. We were helpless to do anything. The fire fighters were working as best they could. I was later told the house was gone in minutes. While I stood in my brothers living room feeling all was lost I remembered that my God had this. So, I took just a minute and stepped out on the deck to pray. I thanked God that my family was safe. We were all safe in Washington. It was all I could think to say.
This farm house was more than just a place to live. It was a place of refuge in my times of trouble. It represented the love of family, safety and security. I healed wounds there more than once. The Farm served as my family’s base. Imagine the Kennedy’s at their Hyannis Port compound, now move it about 2,300 miles to the middle of nowhere Oklahoma and drop it smack dab in the middle of sixty acres, take away the wealth and the ocean and you have the Davis Farm. Ok, drop the glamor too. But seriously, my memories and my roots run deep here. Dad ran cattle on the land until he retired from farming long after he had retired from a career in Plant Management. Mom despite working full-time up until her retirement, still found time to cooked Sunday dinners every week. The dining room sported a huge table that could get all the adults (9) around it for dinner and a smaller able in the “little dining” room for the kids. My Nanny taught me to make her chicken and dumplings’ in the kitchen. My nephew who is now 22 years old came home from the hospital as a new-born to The Farm. Christmas was here every year along with the other major holidays. There were Memorial Day BBQ’s, Family Reunions, Wedding Receptions, Halloween parties and lots of birthday parties. I have a big family and with big families comes a lot of celebrating. Lots of food and sitting around after dinner talking. I was so glad when all the grandkids were officially old enough to do the dishes after dinner. That blessed event got me and my sis-in-law off the hook. Dishes for 13 people, no thank you. LOL. The Farm is responsible for “afancyfarmgirl”. It’s part of my identity.
I loved this place. I miss it. It feels like a part of me is gone. Part of my history is gone.
I don’t miss my stuff. Not really. Stuff is just stuff. It can be replaced. I have a short list of “things” I miss.
1. My Gund Teddy bear Xavier. I’ve had him since I was 11.
2. My first Bible that Dad and Mom gave me. I had recently started carrying it to church again. Dad inscribed it with the following, “May His light burn bright in your life.” Christmas 1983
3. My children’s pictures. Once upon a time an avid scrapbooker. I did crazy elaborate scrapbook pages for my kids documenting their every move when they were small. Those books represent hours and hours of my life. So many memories.
Like I said it’s a short list.
Life goes on. WE are still here. I have what’s most important, MY FAMILY. Without them The Farm would have never held my heart the way it did.
There’s always something to be thankful for. Always.
Coffee, Daisies and Chocolates,