Home

The voice mail on our home answering machine said the following "I don't know why you own a home, you are never there". No, "Hi, this is ______. " No, "sorry I missed you this is ____give me a call when you have a second". Certainly not, "Hi honey, it's ______, call me". Even in it's brevity it's a rather telling message.

Truth is we spend a lot of time here. We start and end the day here. In fact, our hearts are always here, and our minds/body/spirits call it a place of rest. Our favorite things are here, and our most treasured memories are here. The dogs are here. When our kids visit, our home takes on new meaning, is filled with extra love and a multitude of warm fuzzies. Naturally work (for some of us), and other responsibilities, requires us to leave it, but we always come back.

It's not shelter magazine pretty, or a mansion in any way shape or form. It's simple, it has dog fur in it, on it, and around it. There may be some dishes needing to be washed, mail to be dealt with, dusting to be done. The family room tends to be really cold in the winter months, and the upstairs hot in the summer months. But it's home.

So, while last night we weren't physically home, in reality part of us is always home. And we are darned blessed to have it. Last nights message really wasn't about owning a home, or even being there, or not being there as the case may be.

But, it made me pause to appreciate our home. And to give thanks for it. All in all - that's a very good thing.