Place

I’m sharing from Five Minute Friday…

Part of the launch team!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

When I was about eleven years old, my parents moved us to a larger house and I can remember vividly crying my eyes out for weeks. I was the only girl in our little neighborhood, but one who was two years younger. We were best friends.

 

We moved out of county and I went to another school. It was the end of my life. I was terribly shy and awkward, and had just finished fourth grade. School was a scary place.

 

Years later, as a pastor’s wife we moved several times. Moving from place to place became the place God was sending us to…next. I tried hard to make the children comfortable, but some moves turned out downright hard. In fact, they seemed wrong for us.  But in most places, I dug the earth to plant a garden, and flowers. If in planting I was not planted to that place, it would not plant my children there either.

 

We had missionaries and neighbors in our home. Family joined us for the holidays. We came together at the table, occasionally food was hastily thrown together, and always something I baked. Baking bread always made a place feel like home to me. And then, of course, popcorn with a movie.

 

Moving is difficult, but without the right attitude of making a place become home, there is a disconnect. God has a place for all of us, and we only need take hold of his gift. Life struggles are always there, but He is your place, your peace.

 

 

 

 

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6 thoughts on “Place

  1. Like you, I have found that planting flowers and a garden is something that helps establish the feeling of home. I grew up in Michigan but I have lived in Illinois for 42 years. I still think of Michigan as my home state.

  2. I never had a sense of place;
    a house was just a hootch.
    Guns and web gear were the grace
    and the fount of truth.
    I wih that I could feel the ground
    firm beneath my boots,
    and take comfort in the sound
    of gently growing roots.
    My nose is to a window pressed
    seeing blessings not for me,
    a merc in desert cammies dressed
    for a dubious victory.
    There’s a longing that I try to stifle,
    for my true home is my rifle.

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