There is no place more precious and simple, than back home.
I am decades far from the little one I used to be on the farm. The buildings are worn in places and the landscape has altered a bit.
We were wealthy in every way that mattered and will continue to matter–faith, heart, soul, family and friends.
We never went hungry. Ate better than most from the land and the creatures, who provided to us without knowing. We thought we worked hard, yet our parents outdid us at every turn.
Complaints were momentary because everything else depended on the ethic of follow-through or “something wouldn’t get done before the weather changed.” And just as quickly, keeping its promise, the weather would change.
We had friends in abundance and family gatherings that were to be the role-model for what my heart believes they should all contain–laughter, thankfulness to the Lord that we could still gather, some sighs and tears for the ones who’ve gone.
To the loved ones we’ve known and to those still here who are “losing” their memories to age or health, let us remember to be gentle.
Let them go where love once carved deep grooves.
Perhaps it is their only road Home.