“Welcome home.”  That’s what Mallory’s mom said as she greeted me at their house where the wedding was set to happen the following day.  I cannot even tell you how great that felt to hear that.  I lived there, where much of my dad’s family still lives, until I was three years old.

Here’s a shot of me on my birthday at our old house on Cane Run Road.  That’s my brother over my right shoulder.  Nice looking bunch of kiddos, eh?

I continued to spend many weekends there during my elementary years visiting with my grandparents, Bruce and Lurlene Ring.  They’ve been gone for nearly 20 years now, and though I rarely get back to visit with extended family, I’ve got some fond memories of my time in Carlisle with my grandparents.

I remember sailing through the air in that swing hanging from the maple in their front yard. 

I remember sitting on the front porch with my grandfather (Papaw is what I called him), waving at the traffic passing by on Morefield Road.  Papaw was quite the carpenter, so he would let me practice driving nails into scrap wood while we sat there.  We both loved math.  I was a pretty quick learner, so he went ahead and showed me how to do long division and larger multiplication well ahead of time. I can still recall the way that pencil looked—hand sharpened with a pocket knife, and no eraser.  No mistakes! 

Mamaw and I were close.  My mom tells me even now that I remind her a lot of Mamaw.  Isn’t it funny how that happens?  Is it genetic, I wonder, or did I soak up that gentle temperament during my early years?  I would read poems to her from her devotional book in the evenings before we went to sleep.  She’d let me crawl up into bed and sleep there resting on her arm.

I set out for Carlisle early on the day of Mallory’s and Kyle’s rehearsal.  I drove around to some of the spots I remembered visiting as a child and then wound up pulling into the driveway of what used to be my grandparents’ house.  The current owner was kind enough to let me walk around, retrace my steps, and photograph a few of the spots that still stand out in my mind.

Here’s that same tree I was swinging from in the previous pic. 

The fence I used to climb over.

I flew my first kite in the expanse of tall grasses in the field behind their house.  I had that kite so high in the air that I could scarcely make out its shape any longer.  I was out in the wind long enough that day that I developed a pretty painful earache.  Mamaw stayed up with me through the night because the pain was keeping me awake and in tears.

20 years later.  No kite. 

On Sunday mornings, we’d head down into Morefield to that iconic white country church. Papaw would ask me if I was going to be preaching that morning after seeing me all dressed up in my short-sleeve buttondown and clip-on tie.  I was looking sharp!

Here I am on my birthday in April of 1989 visiting with Mamaw in the hospital.  This is the last photograph I have of us together.  She passed away later that year.  Papaw joined her in early 1991.  I remember shortly before his death, answering a late night phone call from him in which he seemed disoriented.  Before I handed the phone to my dad, I heard him asking if we knew where Lurlene was.  Dang.  That pains my heart even now.  Must have been missing her terribly.  I can’t imagine.

Thanks again to everyone at the wedding who welcomed me right in.  It’s a reminder to me of the wonderful roots I have in Carlisle and that I need not wait so long to go back and visit again.