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The place I call home is full of memories, it’s full of my family and it’s comfortable. There is a sigh of peace and relief when I walk through the door. It is safe. Even though I haven’t lived in that home for over 10 years, there is something about leaving. Each time I leave there is a an ache in my heart. It doesn’t last as long as it used to because I have my own home to go back to. Filled with my own family and memories. But the ache still comes just for a bit. The ache doesn’t make me sad but thankful. I am thankful I have a home to go back to that I long to visit. I am thankful to bring my family there to experience that same richness. I am thankful that there are many, many good memories that fill that home.

My prayer is that our kids will have the same feelings of home when they leave one day. That home will be a safe, comfortable place to return to. A place filled with love and encouragement. A place where they can be themselves.

I realize that it isn’t the “home” itself that makes those feelings well up inside of me but the people who created the home. My parents and grandparents created this. I pray it will continue with us.

