Home is where the sweet happens

So… a late Saturday morning ramble… over a particularly delicious cup of coffee that I didn’t make (thank you, Kathryn, Mmmm mmm mmm). Being away from home this week has made me increasingly more appreciative of the things that make home: home. I was keenly aware this past week that there are wonderful things that are and that happen at home that aren’t and don’t happen anywhere else. The familiar makes home: home. Memories and children – children and memories… these are what make home: home. History makes home: home. The Lord makes home: home. The familiar, the security… the acceptance, the freedom to say and do and think things – these also make home: home. Or, rather, the freedom to say and do and think things without fear or with confidence of acceptance… well, these are what make home: home. Confidence of acceptance… what a wonderful thing… home is.

So… it’s so good to be home. O, and, don’t get me wrong… it was good to have a little time away, too. But the very cool thing was that the ‘gettaway’ wasn’t to get: away. It was to run to, and not from, something… it was to go to, and not away, from something. But, even still, though it was a tremendous time… a wonderful place to be and a delightful way to spend days and was very profitable and refreshing… it still wasn’t: home.

Home is where the good things are… home is where the good times are… home is where the sweet happens.

Sadly, I know this isn’t always true in every home. And, for many women, home is really the last place they want to be. So, through the week I have been mulling over… what makes home: home? and what can women do (or what can men do) to make home *the* place to be – *the* place to *want* to be?

This thought, or these thoughts actually, was on my mind all week as we spent time away on a semi-working holiday. We were learning a new webpage design program and were putting together the contents of the site. It’s slow going for me… bcz I can never seem to make a decision and stick with it… and the learning curve is steep for me. But my husband is patient and kind and flexible and loving and on and on. Along with our long, long talks about life and the season ahead, we talked about what we want to accomplish. I don’t know that we needed to get “away” to do this and I don’t know if it took a heart attack to do this or just what… but I do know that the Lord is surely directing the path… and we’re just seeking to order our steps aright.

What a delight to be welcomed home last night… by our children and grandchildren. Home is… sweet home. Home is where sweet happens.