I recently spent a few days with my parents, a rare few days that were just me and them in the home where I grew up. I can’t even remember when that last happened. It seems that for so many decades my visits to them involved packing everyone and all of their stuff into the van for a road trip. This time, it was just me and my overnight bag.
Supposedly I was there to help, but instead it seemed like I landed briefly in a protected haven of simplicity and acceptance. It was good for my soul.
A few glimpses of what going home was like…
- A cheery good morning hug from mom as I stumbled into the kitchen looking for coffee.
- Starting the day with the daily sudoku and crossword. Dad made a copy for each of us from the paper.
- Apple crisp.
- Devotions from Our Daily Bread after dinner.
- Washing the plastic bread bags and aluminum foil when doing dishes.
- Playing board games in the evening.
They say you can’t go back, but once in awhile it sure is nice to visit.