It’s Good To Be Home

That’s what Boy Genius said when he climbed into the van in the parking lot of the Wal-mart in Holly Springs, Mississippi. That was the “halfway” point at which we met Mema & Danny on Saturday to pick up the kids from their week away. I’d hugged him as soon as he got out of her car, then The Girl when she filed out behind him. As I was heading toward Wonder Boy, Boy Genius climbed into the van and proclaimed “It’s good to be home.” Strange that he should say that about a vehicle, huh? After having lunch with Mema & Danny near our rendezvous spot, we trekked back to Little Rock, listening to the kids’ tales of the week. About three hours later (and sans any gas tank mishaps unlike our last road trip), we pulled to a stop in front of the townhome. Again, Boy Genius said, “It’s good to be home.”
His repetition got me thinking, in a rather sentimental way, of course, about how true that is, though “home” may not be what you first expect. I spent a few days in Hot Springs last week, while the kids were gone, at the Arkansas Bar Association Annual Meeting (I had to get all my continuing legal education hours for the year in one shot before the deadline of June 30). Staying with my grandmother was wonderful; I really enjoyed spending time with her. Nevertheless, I was happy to get back home. There was no doubt that Brix and Belle were excited to see me post a three-day absence. And when Bryan got home from work, we went to eat sushi and to the movies, for the third time in a week (that’s more than we normally go in a year since we’ve had children).
I’ve complained quite a bit at times about our transitional circumstances at the moment. Having just sold our house in Tennessee finally a little less than a month ago with less than promising prospects here and a lease that expires at the end of July … it’s sometimes easy to forget what home really means. Of course, sometimes you just have to listen to yourself talking to really hear your heart. While in Hot Springs I was telling my mother how no matter where she lived after her divorce was final, it would only be temporary. I mean, I know deep down that our circumstances (2 adults, 3 kids and 2 dogs in a 1000 s.f. townhome!) are only temporary. Then, in one of those moments that can only be described as God speaking through me, I said, “this whole life is just temporary, Mom, I’ve got treasures stored up for me in Heaven.” And I really meant it.
That’s the sort of thing I need to remember as we meander our way through this transitional time. That and knowing that — whether it’s a house, an apartment, a van, or a parking lot — with Bryan and the kids, it’s always good to be home.

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