tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20104292.post1569702221835564105..comments2024-02-10T21:04:22.822-05:00Comments on The Familyhood Church: StompingKevin Knoxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16788817477327510023noreply@blogger.comBlogger4125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20104292.post-31824853019299075552007-11-11T19:32:00.000-05:002007-11-11T19:32:00.000-05:00Beautiful.Beautiful.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20104292.post-15981207343817133982007-11-11T16:18:00.000-05:002007-11-11T16:18:00.000-05:00You got me thinking about home.. at least back to ...You got me thinking about home.. at least back to where I grew up. Even in NY I lived with acres of woods all around me. Last time I was home all of the woods had given way to suburbia.. sigh.<BR/><BR/>Thanks for the memories.. yours and mine CP!kc bobhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/17440862813109808755noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20104292.post-13280743541466509842007-11-09T15:50:00.000-05:002007-11-09T15:50:00.000-05:00Thanks for taking us home with you. I’m with Salgu...Thanks for taking us home with you. I’m with Salguod you took us back to our youth. If you ever make it this way I’ll take you to that special place I where the violets grow wild and you can hear God whisper through the trees. If you’re still and quiet the wild life will come to drink from the stream. Or my dad stands out of your sight to be sure that you’re ok. Truly God created these places for us.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20104292.post-83153718586354438922007-11-09T12:44:00.000-05:002007-11-09T12:44:00.000-05:00My Mom and Dad still live in the house that border...My Mom and Dad still live in the house that bordered the fields I pedaled around in. No woods, but there were man made hills from some incomplete construction project along the creek. We rode our bikes all over those trails and hills.<BR/><BR/>My trails haven't been taken over by the park service. The construction eventually got done, the hills pushed back into the ditch to cover the sewer and drainage pipes. Condos, apartments and homes sit where we used to ride.<BR/><BR/>I wish I could go back there and remember the days spent jumping the ramp that was made where the smaller mound met the larger (we didn't name our hills.) I wish I could check out the place where the trail through the field met the mounds of dirt. It seemed near vertical, insurmountable. I can remember coming up on it for the first time, pausing for a moment and then having at it. It took a few tries, but I can recall the pride in making it to the top the first time, looking back down at what I'd conquered.<BR/><BR/>I can remember bits and pieces, but there's nothing like being there again to stir the mind and bring deeply hidden memories.<BR/><BR/>Your post did a little bit of that for me, thanks.salguodhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/14707268782911156269noreply@blogger.com