Delightful Stories from the Heart of Maine

By Diana Perkins

Diana is a creative writer who skillfully entwines biblical truths and principles with interesting stories of everyday living. Since her early childhood, the Bible has been planted in her heart through Bible story books, tapes, and LP records, and the love for telling stories has been nurtured.
Within these pages, you will meet characters from various walks of life. Some will bring a smile to your face, and others will give you food for thought. The stories are true, though some names have been changed to protect the privacy of individuals. Whether you prefer lighthearted stories or more serious tales, there are stories that can entertain you.
Maine culture is carefully portrayed in the characters that come alive within the pages. Be uplifted and encouraged by stories of people whose faith in God has helped them overcome many difficulties in their lives. Read stories of a visit from an angel, a single moms special Christmas, the cat that is the boss at a garage, Mainers whose wealth is measured by love, and the way a homeless veteran found hope. Each story brings home a spiritual truth that once embraced will bring light to your path and strength for the journey.

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: Feb 28, 2013
• ISBN: 9781449770020

Diana Perkins

Diana Perkins was born and raised in Maine. Her parents were pastors; the Bible was taught daily. She earned a master’s degree from Freelandia Bible College located in Virginia and is ordained by the United Christian Church located in Tennessee. Her family includes her husband, Leroy; six children; and grandchildren.

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A BOY AND HIS DOG

A s far back as I remember in my childhood there was a large, long haired, chocolate colored dog that lived at my grandmother’s house in Garland, Maine. He had been given to the Giles family by a neighbor, Fred Day, who named him Lucky because he felt that the puppy would be given all the love and attention he would need placed with a large family. My grandparents had ten children so Fred was right. The furry little dog was dearly loved by everyone. By the time I remember Lucky, he was a full grown dog and Rodney was the last child home so Lucky was his responsibility. All of the grandchildren loved the dog, but the only persons that Lucky would obey were Rodney and my grandmother, Leonie. Lucky looked a lot like a bear with a pointed nose, dark eyes and a full fur coat. His long pink tongue and crooked white teeth were quite a contrast to his dark fur body. He was gentle and obedient and when Rodney was at school, he followed my grandmother from room to room as she did her housework. Finally she would say, Lucky, go lay down. With a look of disappointment, he would go behind the kitchen wood stove and soon be asleep. In the afternoon around 3:30, Gram Leonie would tell him, Lucky, go wait for the bus. Go meet Rodney. Lucky’s ears would perk up and he would race to the front door, wait for Grammy to open the door and then run down the driveway and wait patiently with his tail wagging, at the edge of the highway for the big, yellow bus. As soon as Rodney got off the bus, he would be greeted by Lucky who would jump up and put his front paws on Rodney’s shoulders to get a hug and a pat on the head. Then both of them would head towards the house. As soon as they got into the house, the snack that Grammy Giles had ready for Rodney was devoured. Lucky waited patiently for his share of the treat and never was disappointed. I don’t ever remember hearing Lucky bark except when Rodney would tell him to speak. He got rewarded with dog biscuits and praise whenever he obeyed commands from his master. Life was good for Lucky. The two friends would wrestle on the bed and run in the fields together. When Rodney jumped on his bicycle, Lucky tagged along and together they ran errands and visited with neighbors. Lucky was always there as a side kick. Rodney would oftentimes get Lucky to dance with him. He would turn on his small record player. We called it a Victrola. Lucky would stand on his hind legs and try his best to keep time with the music. We would laugh so hard because the dog and Rodney looked hilarious. Sometimes I would try to get Lucky to obey my commands, but his devotion was for Rodney alone. He was certainly Rodney’s best friend. As the years went by, things changed at the farmhouse. Rodney set aside his bicycle in exchange for a car. Lucky started getting lame and he slept more hours behind the wood stove. He didn’t race after the car like he had the bicycle. He was content to lie on Rodney’s bed and snuggle up with him to watch TV during the evening hours. He didn’t have the energy to follow Grammy around the house. He was content to rest most of the time.

One day I entered the house and sensed that something was missing. The dog didn’t come to greet me and Grammy Giles told me that he had died. Rodney had buried him in the field behind the house where they had raced together for so many years. Rodney was brokenhearted as he laid his childhood friend to rest and there he placed a marker on his grave. He had been a friend to him for many years and now he was gone. I stood reverently by the spot to see what was written there. It said simply Lucky. My heart was heavy as I realized that the farmhouse would never be quite the same again. I had very little experience with death, and I wondered about some things. Where did Lucky go? Is he in heaven? Will we ever see him again? Those questions I kept to myself and didn’t verbalize them to anyone. I just knew that an important member of the family was missing and I felt sad. It seemed that my parents, siblings, grandparents, aunts and uncles would always be with me so I took comfort in that. It would be a few years before I would realize that the house that I loved to visit was only special because of the people who lived there. I would see the old farm house from the top of the hill and get so excited that I couldn’t wait to pull in the driveway. My grandmother Leonie would always have a big hug for me and she would get some homemade biscuits out of her tin breadbox and smother them with peanut butter for us. What a treat that was.

Eventually Rodney married and my grandparents were left alone. Rodney was drafted into the army and he went to serve in the war in Vietnam. I listened to my grandmother pray for his safe return day after day. She loved her son, Rodney. He was her baby boy and she pleaded with God to bring him home safely. She would then list each of her children by name to God and bring her concerns to the throne of grace. She prayed for all of her grandchildren and I would listen for my name. She never failed to pray for me. After my grandparent’s death, Rodney moved his family into the old homestead. It is still home to me and the old house has nostalgia that will remain with me for the rest of my life. When I close my eyes, I can picture every room just as it was years ago.

Grammy was a woman of faith and she believed that God would answer her prayers. She read the Scriptures and claimed the promise that if you train up a child in the way he should go that when he is old he will not depart from it. She told me that God’s eye is on the sparrow and he values people far above sparrows. I learned from her that all the hairs of our heads are numbered and God will supply our needs if we have faith in him. She taught us to take care of each other and if I know my grandmother, she is waiting at the pearly gates to welcome each one of her children home to eternal life. My questions have never been answered about Lucky and those things that perplexed me as a child, I still don’t understand. I do know that God is faithful, God is just and he has prepared for us things that we have never thought of and never dreamed of. He has our family members secure in his hands and in his home. There will be no tears in heaven and the Lord will be there with us forever. I hope that you are preparing to be there someday also.

BEAUTY IS IN THE EYE OF THE BEHOLDER

A s a child, I dreamed of one day living in a neat little white cottage with black shutters and red checked curtains hanging in the kitchen windows. My hope was to have a fire place in the living room, a white picket fence surrounding the perimeters of the home, and rose bushes gracing the front lawn. I had seen pictures like this in many story books and I longed for a home that I could say was mine. My parents lived in rented housing most of my life and I wanted something that I could be proud of to raise my family in, a home that I could decorate and not have landlords telling me what I could and couldn’t do with my residence. In one house we lived in, a brook flowed by our house and the sound of the water rippling over rocks was comforting to me at bedtime. I desired to have one just like that close by when I grew up. I imagined big oak trees all around the house and birds singing and building their nests in the branches. I would have a tire swing on the strong branches for children to enjoy and we would sit under the shade of the tree sharing picnics and stories. Oh, yes, my idea of an ideal home was etched in my mind and I would one day make it a reality.

Eddie and I married when I was still a teenager, and the home that we bought was nothing like the one that was in my thoughts. Eddie called it a temporary home and he would one day build my dream house. If I would be patient, he would pay for this house quickly and then we could save for a permanent home. It sounded reasonable and good, so we put our hearts and efforts into making it a comfortable and pleasant home for us. However, as many young lovers learn, marriage was even more difficult than we had anticipated. The large, old house was much more expensive to renovate than we expected and the upkeep of a big, rambling, old house was endless. There was never enough money to complete all the repairs that we needed to work on and children added a new dimension to our lives that neither one of us was really prepared for. We had four children born to us and the house became a permanent dwelling place for all of us. I lost my vision and hope of ever making my childhood dream of a cottage by a brook a reality and I resigned myself to the fact that this was the best that I would ever have. Bitterness and anger replaced the dreams in my heart and my thoughts centered on lack of money, broken promises and the enormous workload that I carried trying to make this old house a home for six people and meeting all the needs of my family. My unhappiness and discontent overshadowed many of the blessings that I had at hand and my focus was too often on the negative aspects of life. Eventually my marriage dissolved and when my youngest daughter was twelve years old and the last child at home, I moved her to a new town and a sweet little house that I thought she would be happy with. To my surprise, Sharon missed the old house that had been her home all of her life and she mourned over leaving it with all the wonderful memories that she had of home. My heart ached for her. There were times that I considered moving her back to the big, old house, but eventually she settled in and we moved on with our lives.

The day came that Sharon moved out and went on to college. One day I opened the mail box and pulled out a big manila envelope. I opened it and found a term paper that Sharon had written with a grade A on it. I was curious to read the paper but was very surprised with what I discovered.

The name of the paper was The old House on the Hill. Tears came to my eyes and conviction gripped my heart as I read the words that flowed from my daughter’s hand. It was evident that my thoughts over the years had clouded my happiness and had affected the family that God had given to me. Sharon described the beautiful snowy hill in our back yard that all the children in the neighborhood loved and gathered so often to slide down the slopes during the winter weather on their sleds. She described me as a stay at home mom so all the children in the neighborhood came to our house for homemade cookies and a dish of macaroni and cheese. At Christmastime, we spent hours making cookies, candy, and decorations for our Charlie Brown Christmas tree. Children’s laughter filled the room for they were the ones that went out into the woods with their dad, brought the tree home and they were encouraged to decorate it any way they wished. Christmas music added to the festivity of the season. Lack of money for gifts was always a big concern for me but evidently it had not been so important to our children. She remembered that the house was often filled with aromas of homemade bread and sauces for spaghetti, pizza, and pastries that delighted our family. Our cellar was filled with jars of preserves, soups, pickles, vegetables, potatoes and fruits that I had gathered and preserved for the winter months. The children were always there helping me in whatever way they could. Absent from the story was the description of the unpainted trim on our house. The hard work of cutting trees, loading them onto a truck and stacking wood into the cellar wasn’t mentioned. There wasn’t a word about the uneven heat that filtered through the drafty house. Sharon didn’t write about the dining room table being piled with craft projects, or the creaking windows that brought in cold air for lack of storm windows. She overlooked the fact that the housework oftentimes was overwhelming and impossible for us to keep up with. What she focused on was the beautiful characteristics of the old house and the love that was there for all the children who wanted to come and spend time with us as I blended them right in with our own children. There was no mention of the lack of store bought toys or fashionable clothes, just the sweet memories of childhood delight. As I finished reading the story, I felt humbled and sad that I had not appreciated that which I had, but so often set my sights on that which was beyond my reach, causing me to be discontented and unhappy. Bitterness ate away at my spirit until I had been depleted of hope and joy.

Oh, to see things through the eyes of a child. Jesus said, Except you become as a little child, you cannot enter the kingdom of God. See Matthew 18:3. Children gathered around him, sat on his knees, and were blessed by Him. They didn’t have all the questions and suspicions that the religious leaders of his time had; they accepted his love unconditionally. The disciples didn’t appreciate the value of children for they tried to send them away telling their mothers that Jesus didn’t have time to spend with them. Jesus rebuked the disciples and told them not to forbid the children to come unto him for such is the kingdom of God.

Many people missed out on the blessing of having a relationship with Jesus because they focused on his outward appearance and the circumstances of his earthly life. See Mark 6:1-6. Many took offence at his teaching because he told them that he came from heaven and that he is the Son of God. They refused to believe his claims and forsook him. The Bible says that he was not handsome; his poor family came from the town of Nazareth which had no significant history. Joseph, his earthly father, made a living as a carpenter so he was not, in people’s minds, connected to royalty. He owned no property and it was written that he had no place to lay his head and he shaved with a borrowed razor. (See Matthew 8:20). He rode on a borrowed lowly donkey and the disciples used their clothing to place over the animal to proclaim his offer to be the king of the Jews. The Jews were not excited about accepting him as a king. This wasn’t what they had dreamed and hoped for. They wanted a king that would come in royal apparel, a warrior to lead an army against the Roman government, thus freeing them from oppressive rulers. Only a minority of people followed him and understood. Only a few looked beyond what they saw and clung to faith. The love, mercy and the miracles that he performed caused the common people to believe on him and to accept him. The hardened hearts and blinded