sentimental words // J A N U A R Y

 Precious Memories

traditional gospel song

J.B.F Wright 

1925

 

Precious memories, unseen angels
Sent from somewhere to my soul
How they linger, ever near me
And the sacred past unfolds

 

Precious memories how they linger
How they ever flood my soul
In the stillness, of the midnight
Precious sacred scenes unfold

 

Precious father, loving mother
Fly across the lonely years
And old home scenes of my childhood
In fond memory appears

 

Precious memories how they linger
How they ever flood my soul
In the stillness, of the midnight

Precious sacred scenes unfold

sentimental words // D E C E M B E R

Something was shining bright in the top of Laura's stocking. She squealed and jumped out of bed. So did Mary, but Laura beat her to the fireplace. And the shining thing was a glittering new tin cup.
Mary had one exactly like it.
These new tin cups were their very own. Now they each had a cup to drink out of. Laura jumped up and down and shouted and laughed, but Mary stood still and looked with shining eyes at her own tin cup.
Then they plunged their hands into the stocking again. And they pulled out two long, long sticks of candy. It was peppermint candy, striped red and white. They looked and looked at the beautiful candy, and Laura licked her stick, just one lick. But Mary was not so greedy. She didn't even take one lick of her stick.
Those stockings weren't empty yet. Mary and Laura pulled out two small packages. They unwrapped them, and each found a little heart-shaped cake. Over their delicate brown tops were sprinkled white sugar. The sparkling grains lay like tiny drifts of snow.

There had never been such a Christmas.

- Little House on the Prairie by Laura Ingalls Wilder

sentimental words // N O V E M B E R

How many of you have seen the 1994 version of Louisa May Alcott's Little Women?
I absolutely loved that movie as a little girl. The music. The dresses. The songs. Everything.
One scene, even as a very young child, always without fail caused me to have a lump in my throat.

The scene where Jo says goodbye to Beth.

Beth - "If God wants me with Him there is none that will stop Him. I don't mind. I was never like the rest of you, making plans about the great things I'd do. I never saw myself as anything much. Not a great writer, like you."

Jo - "Oh Beth, I'm not a great writer."

Beth - "But you will be. Oh Jo, I've missed you so. Why does everyone want to go away? I love being home. But I don't like being left behind. Now I am the one going ahead. I am not afraid. I can be brave like you but I know I shall be homesick for you, even in Heaven."

Cue the music. Cue the tears.

sentimental words // O C T O B E R

Do you ever hear a hum that strikes a familiar feeling in you heart? Perhaps its a song. A worn out blanket. A smell.

I thought it may be fun each month to post something that is sentimental to me. In word form. Perhaps it will be a song. A poem. A quote. Or even just a little story.

This month we will start with an old "diddy" that I go way back with. I began playing it to myself and, to my great surprise, a lump came to my throat. How odd.

These words are from an old movie I grew up watching - Where the Red Fern Grows.
The movie itself is quite dear to me. But the song at the beginning? Enough to get your heart fluttering and the memories rolling.

In the Morning of My Life 

Andy Williams 

In the morning of my life I ran through the hills 

and the whippoorwills sang their songs just for me

and each brand new day was a sweet melody

 In the morning of my life we'd swim in the creek

playing hide and seek like the wind wild and free

and each brand new day was a sweet melody 

But now the world has grown so old

the songs have been sung

there's no one left for me to hold 

but all of my memories remain so young 

In the twilight of my life I dream of the hills

and the whippoorwills who once sang just for me

day is fading fast and now alas

the evening is near