Instead of waking to kisses from Little Guy and eating breakfast, watching waves crash on the shoreline, I woke to my alarm clock blaring and a driveway covered in snow. My feet hit the floor running. I bought breakfast on the way to the church for Morning Break registration and a meeting, before I went grocery shopping. No rest for the wicked…or is that for the weary?
I can’t say that I was thrilled to be heading home Tuesday morning after a week of relaxing on a sandy beach, in a bubbling hot tub, or on the boardwalks. I knew it would be a long day waiting in airports. I knew I was heading back to gray skies, freezing temperatures, and ice and snow. I cried during my last walk on the beach Monday night. I even shed a few tears the next morning as I watched the ocean disappear outside the tiny airplane window. I felt like I was leaving behind a “friend” that I wouldn’t see again for a long time. I am ridiculously aware of how unbalanced I sound…and I’m hoping a few good nights sleep will cure a lot of my melancholia.
I can honestly say I did not miss the crunch of snow underfoot, the sound of fire trucks and trains wailing in the night, or the way the street light assaults me through the crack in the curtains. But it did feel good to slip into flannel pjs and fuzzy socks (especially for my sun-burned feet – the only visible sign that I have been any where warm or sunny), and to sleep in my own bed without the need for earplugs or a pile of pillows on my head.
Our flight had been changed by the airline a few weeks ago, but we didn’t realize that we were on stand-by until we arrived in Detroit. The flight had been overbooked and there were at least 4 additional passengers who were also without seats. Later flights were also overbooked. For awhile I wasn’t sure if we were going to make it home Tuesday night. Thank you to the 3 passengers who gave up their seats so we could get home. I realize they were compensated by the airline, but it still meant that they would not arrive home until the next morning.
Home is more than walls and a roof. It is more than a collection of familiar belongings or personal treasures. Michael Card wrote, “Home is a comfort and home is a light, a place to leave the darkness outside. Home is a peaceful and ever full feeling, a place where the soul safely hides”…it was so good to have a holiday, but in many ways, it is good to be home again.
“Home” by Michael Card © 1981 Mole End Music (Admin. by Word Music Group, Inc.)