Wednesday, March 7, 2012

Were you born in a barn?

Old Fashioned Barn

“Close the door please,” yelled my Dad, “Do you think you were born in a barn?”

Did you ever hear those words when you were a kid? I did many a time, but I never associated the words with a real barn.

My mother was born in a genuine barn. Yes, one end was the living quarters and the other end was where the animals were kept at night.

My Grandparents were keepers of a cow, a horse, and some chickens, and the animals were happy to be close to people. Grandpa was a share cropper and worked for a man who allowed them to live on the premises and to use the horse to plow the fields. The cow provided them with milk while the chickens contributed both eggs and meat.

Some years later, my grandfather moved his family to a ranch that God enabled him to purchase. There he raised oranges and olives for his livelihood, and a garden that produced vegetables a plenty.

Grandpa would drive his old truck to town, and sell his produce and eggs. Maneuvering his truck down the narrow alley, he would knock on his customer’s back door and call out, “Egg man, egg man.” After several hours he was able to return home with coins for his trouble.

Years later, my Mother tried to find that old barn again so she could snap a photo, but it was not to be. She did try to paint a picture from memory, and it hangs on one of my bedroom walls.

Both my parents come from humble beginnings, and work was always a part of their lives. The Bible tells us that, he who does not work, shall not eat. Oh how we need to train that concept into our young people today.

Even as young children they can perform work.

Teach your children to sort their clothes by colors, and how to do their own laundry. Include showing them how to change the sheets off their bed, and wash and dry them, and remake their bed. Teach them to dig in the yard and plant a garden, and take care of it. They can learn to use a needle, and mend their shirt where it is coming apart at the seams. Show them how to prepare a simple meal. You will be surprised how quickly children can learn to become self sufficient.

No, I was not born in a barn, but it was my grandparent’s old farm house. My dwellings have been shacks, shanties, nice apartments and grand houses, but what does it matter if I gained the whole world and lost my own soul?

Finding Jesus and inviting Him into my heart was my wisest decision, and that also means that Jesus is busy at work building me a mansion that will be mine some day.

So the question is not “Were you born in a Barn?” but the important question is:

“Have you been Born – Again?”

John 3:3 Jesus answered and said to him, “Most assuredly, I say to you, unless one is born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God.”

This post has been Linked to the Mama Zone at Friends Day Wednesday

also is linked to Bonnie's  Faith Barista Jam  
and also linked to "Tell Me a True Story" at: 


  1. I love your stories... I know I've said it many times, but there is nothing better than the stories of your life and how it relates to our society now. How I'd love to see it in a book.

    My dad was born into a sharecropper's family... I guess that's why I relate so well to your stories, they are close to my heart. As my heart is close to yours my friend...

  2. I certainly heard that phrase many times growing up, and have used it on my own daughters as well! (So funny to hear my oldest daughter now using with her own children!):)

    Beautiful story Hazel!

    Blessings and hugs,

  3. Your mother's birth sounds similar to childbirth among Finnish immigrants--or rural Finland a couple generations ago. I appreciated the description of your grandfather's work ethic. We do need to teach our young people!
    Great post!

  4. I so enjoyed just reading this story. I agree that work is important and truly, life giving. Thanks for the way you demonstrated this with words. It encourages me as a mother today.

  5. I'm sorry your mom couldn't find that barn. I went looking for my grandparents' house a few years ago--where I used to spend a lot of time in the summer, but it was gone. My mom's house is now a funeral home parking lot. I hate when we lose those parts of our history. I'm glad your mother could paint from memory. At least you have that tangible piece of history and sentiment.

  6. Yep, He's all that counts in terms of where and how we live. I lived pretty poorly until I married Dave. We usually live very practically, and that is a good thing. And being where the Lord wants us to be is all that counts.

    Good sharing.


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