Today was the last day of our lo-o-o-ong journey. Eleven or so hours of driving, and we arrived, at long last, at my Mr.'s parents' house. Home, sort of.
On the way we stopped to visit my grandmother. I felt the anticipation build, as we drove past Great Uncle Jesse's barn, past the house where my grandpa was born, and then to the place I have always known as my grandparents' house. Everything seemed to whisper, "home, home, home".
Grandma & grandpa's house has always been a safe place, due mostly to the wonderful faith and unconditional love of the people who lived there. Although things feel a little different now that grandpa has gone Home, my history and roots are there. The double row of trees in the backyard were planted by my great-great-grandpa.
And although I have pulled up my own roots and am wandering to distant places of the world, I am more stable knowing who I am and where I have come from. And in knowing that I am loved.
But even more importantly, as I go through life, I am learning to identify with my true Home. I am finding that security only comes by remembering Whose I am, and where I am going. And in knowing that I am loved.
When it comes my turn to go Home, many of the people who have loved me here on earth will be waiting there for me. I am truly blessed to have such a heritage and such a future.
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