We are here. Grandpa and Grandma’s. My mom and dad’s. What was planned to be a day trip for tomorrow to do yard work for Grandpa after his carpal tunnel surgery, became an overnight trip when the pressure valve thingys on our well pump gave up and quiet cooperating.
We are always welcome. My daughter teased that we should just show up on their doorstep in case Grandpa said no. He got a laugh out of that. When does Grandpa ever say no? Well, unless it is critical 🙂
Here. Where we are always welcome, where it feels like home even though this was never my home. They left my childhood home after 27 years, when I was 30, with two little boys. Those little boys don’t remember my home and yet this is home.
My parents are aging, aren’t we all? Sometimes that is hard, but I am so, so grateful for home.
My dad reading to my youngest boys at Christmastime.
Philippians 4:4 (KJV)
“Rejoice in the Lord always: and again I say, Rejoice.”