Ah! It is the weekend. I run around for work, chores, and errands all week. The weekend has its own pace, of course. We are all home together. Dorothy says “oh Auntie Em, there’s no place like home”. The song says “be it ever so humble, there’s no place like home’.
I love that we have hours together to talk, share, get a few things done, head to church, and re-group and restore our minds, souls, and bodies. It makes me feel like I am walking on a lovely path through a forest next to a pretty lake like in this picture.
This week some people lost their jobs and/or homes. They may not have the luxury this week of having or keeping their homes. Each of us may at some point be in that position. That is unsettling. Reality is difficult at times. Yet we discover, in the midst of difficult struggles and loss that we are most definitely not alone in this world. People do reach out to you when you are facing difficulties. That doesn’t fix everything, but boy I think it speaks volumes in this world.
In my mind’s eye it is like the scene late in the movie ‘It’s a Wonderful Life’. True, Capra’s world doesn’t necessarily exist in a literal sense. The bank will and does foreclose on folks. People do lose their jobs. People do have health issues. Yet in the midst of that, someone reaches out and lets them know they are loved. The rest will be sorted out somehow. Boy it is scary and often uncharted waters. But when people have other people—those other people actually become the essence of home. It isn’t just a building. I hope that this weekend you have a feeling of home and being loved. I pray that your heart was lightened by someone or something this week. I am ending with a poem that I came across by Joyce Kilmer (Yeh the guy that wrote the Trees Poem).
Roofs – by Joyce Kilmer
‘The road is wide and the stars are out and the breath of the night is
And this is the time when wanderlust should seize upon my feet.
But I’m glad to turn from the open road and the starlight on my
And leave the splendor of out-of-doors for a human dwelling place”.
That’s my favorite part of the poem. The rest of it is about gypsies, vagabonds and the like. Not really in the mood for that part of the poem. But I loved the image of turning from the starlight on my face and trading it for a human dwelling place. Where is my human dwelling place? Where my loved ones are—no matter what the physical structure happens to be.