My husband and I recently had the opportunity to take a trip out to Ashley, North Dakota, an old farm town full of German-Russian culture where my friend Jenny at Prairie Californian lives. If you don't know Jenny, she transplanted to Ashley, ND after marrying a sunflower farmer. I plan on sharing you more about our vacation, what I learned about North Dakota culture and how mine and Jenny's friendship formed. But for now, I want to share with you one of my favorite moments from Ashley, North Dakota.
Jenny is a very talented photographer and enjoys the same subject matter that I do including old farm homes. Of course she had to take us out to some of her favorite places including this old little house pictured above. We took a few shots from afar and as we drew closer to this old home, my eye kept drawing towards that front door housed by a little porch.
My imagination began running wild as I began thinking about how many times someone ran inside and outside of that door. As we approached and I was able to get even closer to the front door, the old rusty door knob caught my eye. I stared at it for a long time.
I wanted to touch it, but I couldn't.
It wasn't mine to touch.
This doorknob was turned by a farm family of eleven children.
Eleven lives were raised in that home. Eleven lives that all had an impact on this little North Dakota community.
I'm sure if door knobs could talk, this one would have some stories to tell.
It's interesting to think about each time the doorknob turned as each child went out out that door for the last time.
Which direction did they go?
Every time we turn a knob and walk out a door, we make a decision. Sometimes we choose to go places we dread.
Sometimes we go places we love.
Sometimes we go places we've never been. Those places may changes our lives forever.
No matter where we go, #home will always be the place where we made our very first choice.
And #home is where we will make our last...
...because home is where the heart is.