Down Memory Lane… The Hand Muffs

Sherry and Patsy Craig  Bruneau, Id

I am so glad I found this photo.  A short time back, my sister Pat and I were visiting with our Dad, recalling old memories of Bruneau and Boise.  This picture captures memories of both places.

Christmas in Bruneau..and our beloved fluffy, soft, white as snow, hand muffs!  I loved that hand muff.  It was better than any pair of gloves I’ve ever had.  It not only kept my hands warm, but it pampered me.  I felt sophisticated, and important wearing my little fur coat for my hands.

Then there was the trip to Boise.  We were shopping, walking down the sidewalk.  I was holding Mom’s hand.  I let go of her hand, snuggled my hand in that muff, admiring it, and lagging behind everyone.  I heard my name.  It was in a tone that said ” Get up here with us now!”

I ran up to Mom and grabbed her hand again as we walked. She was wearing white gloves.  I didn’t remember Mom wearing gloves.  I asked her where she got her gloves and looked up at her sweet face. …… Horror!  She did have a nice face, and she was smiling at me….but that was NOT MY MOTHER’S FACE!

I still remember the feeling of blood rushing to my face.  I was so embarrassed!  And I was frightened!  I started crying.  Then I heard my name again.  It was in a tone that said “Come here, it’s ok.”  That was my Mother’s voice.  It was such a sweet and loving voice.

I loved that voice.  I loved her face.  I loved the feel of her hand holding mine.  I still do.  I miss them all.  Some day I will hold her hand again.  I love you Mom.

As a post script, I love the picture of my Dad on the table.  Also I can remember wearing hair barrettes, like the one in Pat’s hair up to my pre-teen years.

Down Memory Lane…Bill & Jean

My Uncle Bill and Aunt Jean Dipp

Bill Dipp was my mother’s brother.  He was a kind, gentle man.  He had a deep voice and quiet sense of humor.  He left this life to be with Jesus several years ago. We all miss him, but no one more than Aunt Jean.

Jean carried on in faith, knowing that someday she would see Bill again.  They both loved Jesus, and shared their faith with many, including me.

I have many fond memories of them both.  Aunt Jean was a good cook and I have many of her recipes.  She always had a smile on her face, an infectious laugh, and gave bear hugs that could “almost” bruise your ribs!

We lived close by for most of my young years and spent lots of family time together.

When my grandparents moved to Montana, Bill and Jean followed not long after, and were always there to help Grandma and Granddad in their later years.

This is a sad day for me.  Aunt Jean’s funeral is today in Twin Falls, ID.  I so wish I could have been there for her.  I hope her children, Carolyn, and Connie, know how much I loved her and Uncle Bill.

Although I am sad for me, I am very happy for Aunt Jean…and Uncle Bill.  I know that they are finally together again,  They are in a place where they will know nothing but the joy and peace they always believed in.

God bless you both forever in Eternity!

Down Memory Lane… The homestead

Old Bruneau Homestead maybe late 1890s 001
Halverson Homestead Bruneau, ID about 1800  – Gran,(Suzie Halverson) in pasture.

My life has changed the last few years.  It has changed from that of a simple country girl…woman ( I haven’t been a girl for many decades!) to that of city life.  I say city life, because that is what it is to me.  Actually, I live in what most would still consider a small town.

I am still the same person, but I am out of my natural element.  The things I do everyday are different.  The things my eyes see are different.  The things my ears hear are different.  The things I smell are different.  The way I feel here is different.  But memories….they haven’t changed!  I can take them with me wherever I go.  They can make me laugh.  They can make me cry.  They can make me feel young and carefree.  They restore my spirit when it needs it.

I’ve met a lot of different people since I’ve been living in town.  I’ve worked with a lot of young people.  I’ve learned a lot from them.  I’ve learned that not everyone has been as lucky as I have been.  Not everyone has good memories.

But I do.  My childhood was the kind that every child should have.  I was raised with loving parents.  My mom was such a sweet, kind, and patient woman.  My Dad was, and still is, always there for me.  His hands were gentle when needed, and strong when needed.  My parents loved each other and they loved us.

It was their foundation of love that blessed me with such a good life.  It was their foundation that overflowed to me and helped provide the foundation for my marriage, and I believe it has overflowed to my children’s lives, as well as my grandchildren’s lives.

Thank you Mom and Dad for such great memories.

And now I’d like to take a little trip; a trip down memory lane.

I’m going to share some memories with the help of old photos, and some that only have a picture in my mind and heart.

If any photos or memories I share spark memories of family members or friends, if you have any specific facts; where, dates, occasions, etc, please share on the comments of my blog.  I’d like this to be the start of a history for our family.

My memories started where my family started, in a little place called Bruneau, ID.

This is a picture of the family homestead.  I may be wrong, but I believe it was first homesteaded by my great, great, grandparents, Gran, (Suzie) and Ed Halverson.  That is Gran standing in the pasture.

I was only five years old when we left Bruneau, so I don’t have a lot of vivid memories from there.  Most of my memories come from returning visits over the years.  But I do have a few.

One of my first ones was when my sister Pat’s pony, Tootsie, ran away with me.  She was running down that tree-lined lane leading up to the house.  I can remember being so scared, and crying for my daddy to save me…and he did!  I can remember how warm and safe his arms felt around me.  Now I know that in reality, Tootsie was probably bearly in a trot, but in this little girl’s memory, she was in a dead out death run!  And my Dad was my hero!  Still is!

My sister, “Patsy” on Tootsie (Aren’t they cute?)

Easter Memories

I’ve decided to repost this blog every Easter in honor of Jesus and his selfless sacrifice for us all. Hope you all enjoy a blessed day and don’t forget why we celebrate.


The Easter season fills me with memories from my childhood. I can remember like it was yesterday, the excitement I felt when we started the egg dying ritual. I can see clear drink glasses, each with different bright colored water. I can smell the vinegar that filled the kitchen.

We each colored our own eggs and put our names on one or two. It was a family ritual, not just us kids. I think that was what made it so much fun as a kid; to have Mom and Dad decorating eggs with us.

Easter morning we would wake up with Dad singing “Here comes Peter Cotton Tail, hopping down the bunny trail.” That is something Dad did until we left home. The rest of the morning found my sister and me racing around the house in a mad dash to out do each other. And of course there was…

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Family Traits

Odessa and Ed Craig with sons, Jim and Bob

Family traits are odd things when you think about them.  I used to think family traits were things that were passed down from generation to generation because of the time spent together, and learned behaviors.  I still believe that is a large part of it.  However, I have learned of people who were adopted at birth or separated since early childhood and then re-connected with family members to discover they had many of the same habits, likes, dislikes, and well…family traits.

The picture above is of my grandparents, my dad, and my uncle.  I love this picture of the people I love so much.  They have given me so many wonderful memories.  They provided the values and lifestyle I grew up with and into. They have handed down family traditions, family work ethics, their sense of humor, and many of their family traits.

If you look at that picture you will notice one of the traits that have passed through the generations.  Everyone of them is standing with their hands in their pockets. That is something I do most of the time.  I have also noticed my kids and grandkids often standing the same way.

Family traditions, and family traits.  Thank you Craig family for the ones you’ve given me.

Cloudy Skies


It has been a long, cold, snowy, winter.  I can tolerate a few days here and there of bone-chilling cold, a few days of snow, a few gloomy days.  But this year has got me screaming, “Enough already!” The cloudy gray skies are oppressive.  They are pushing me to the edge of depression.  Will winter never end?  Will Spring ever come?  I want to see daffodils smiling in flower beds.  I want to hear birds chirping in trees with green leaves.  I want to feel the warmth of sunshine beating down on me.

If like me, this winter is testing your endurance, then you know the feeling of oppressive, cloudy gray skies.

Life in general, has its’ seasons.  There are seasons of heart bursting joy, seasons of soul breaking grief, seasons of plenty, and of great need.  There are seasons of health, hope, and excitement, and some of illness, trauma, and desperation, and stress.

Right now we are in that last life season.  In the last 2-3 weeks, my husband has had 4 trips to the ER, and a couple of Dr. visits in between.  My father has been in the hospital and faces some extended time in rehab, my father-in-law is going through health issues, as is my brother-in-law. Health issues alone cause stress.  More loved ones…more stress.  More health issues, more financial issues.  The snowball keeps on rolling!  Inside we are screaming, “Enough already!”

I look at that picture.  I see the winter snow, the dark, dreary, storm clouds that make the day feel cold and hard.

I take a second look and I see something else.  I see the clouds trying to rise.  I see a very small blue patch at the edge of darkness.  A small vision of hope, that the storm will soon pass, and blue skies and sunnier times lie ahead.

Jesus said he will never leave me nor forsake me.  He told me not to worry about tomorrow, today has enough troubles of its own.  He told me he looks after the sparrow, and I am worth much more than the sparrow.

Thank you Jesus for your word, for your truth, your guidance, and your hope, and encouragement in times of cloudy skies.  Thank you Jesus, for never leaving me.



Mikaylee Belle


The miracle of birth..that’s a phrase we hear all the time.  The thing is, it really is a miracle.  Our minds are too small to truly comprehend the process and creation of life.  Our Creator, who “knew us before He formed us in our mother’s womb”, tells us “His ways are higher than our ways, and His thoughts, higher than our thoughts.”

Although I may never truly comprehend it, I will always be in awe of it, revere it, appreciate it, and do my best to defend, and protect it.

There is nothing that can bring tears of joy to my eyes, and fill my heart with pure love and adoration, as holding a newborn baby.

I have been so blessed.  I have three wonderful kids, and nine also wonderful grandkids.

Number nine arrived on December 9, 2016.  She is a beautiful little girl who has stolen my heart.  Of course, so did numbers one through eight!

Mikaylee Belle.  She sounds like a little southern belle.  I see her in ruffles and lace, carrying a perisol in the hot summer sun, her long curls peeking out of a floppy hat.

Of course I know she will more than likely be a little cowgirl, dressed in blue jeans, and cowboy boots, her long curls, braided into pigtails, peeking out of a cowboy hat. And that is fine with me.  That was just like her mama.

This little girl is so sweet, so irresistable, and adorable.  I just want to soak up every moment of her babyness.  I want to snuggle her.  I want to stare into her big, sparkling eyes, and drown in her little giggles and smiles.  She is perfection.

This new addition to our family was named after a couple of people who are so dear to me.  Mikaylee is in honor of her grandpa Mike; my husband, and Belle was the middle name of my mother, Harriett Craig.  Belle was also the name of her dad’s great grandma, so she carries a lot of heritage with her name.

I wish for this baby to be blessed with the purest love throughout her lifetime.  I wish for her the kind of childhood I had; one with a mom and dad that was always there everyday.  Meals shared together around the table.  Family games played around that same table.  I wish for her to know and love nature and all its beauty.  I want for her the simple joys of country life.  I want her to have a lifetime bond with her big brother; a friendship that withstands all storms. I wish for her to grow into a strong, independent woman full of compassion and love, and respect for others.  I wish for her a loving, loyal husband and children of her own.

But more than all this, I wish for this baby to know Jesus, to grow under His love and guidance.  To know His word, and to walk in His ways.  I want her to know Him as her friend, to know He will never leave her nor forsake her.

Mikaylee Belle…you sweet little gift from God, you wonder of this miracle we call birth, I wish for you to know how much your Grandma loves you!