Home

Home. Home is at my grandparents. The one place that was always the same, no matter how many times we moved. The place where so many childhood memories still linger. I can almost see us. My sister, brother and me, running around.

But then they moved. I was 18. But I still needed my childhood refuge!

Home. Is us. our jolly family of 7. Us 3 oldest ones talking to loud, mom thumping a broomstick on their bedroom door to shut us up.my sister climbing on our bunkbed with her cup of tea when i wanted to sleep, me grumbling but loving it. Sitting for hours at the table, drinking coffee and talking, laughing, having heated discussions with little children running and climbing around us.

Home is the dirty old pond on the farm in the west flanders. The creek and the pantry in minnesota. The living room in North Carolina and the rope swing on the tree in the old house where Loorke was born and where Seppe died, our dear little goat that we bottle fed because his mama had died soon after she had him.

We moved grew up, got married. But home is in our hearts, home is when we get together around the table once more, home is when we will be together in heaven and all my longing for bits and pieces of people and places and times that I loved and now miss so, will be reunited and fulfilled because together we will see His face and praise Him for eternity.

I image sometimes we will be chasing little white goats in green meadows there.

linking up with www.lisajobaker.com for five minute friday: