My kids have learned over the years that home is simply where you lay your head. When you travel for a couple of months at a time, it just makes it easier. Still, there is something so refreshing about returning to the place where your bed belongs to none other than you.
We returned home last Wednesday, but we didn’t just return to our own beds. We came back to family. As I opened my car door, they were there. Lots of them. These people that have no blood relation but carry the bonds of family from a place deep within. As the entourage followed us into our house, I couldn’t believe what greeted me…a beautiful bouquet of flowers perfectly centered on the kitchen table, food in the fridge, chocolate on the beds, and merlot and dark chocolate with sea salt? How did they know the latter two were our favorites? Oh, and did I mention that the house was clean, too? If it weren’t for my travel weary, sleep deprived, foggy brain that could barely will the power to utter complete sentences, I would have burst into tears. How could they know how much this meant to me?
After everyone unloaded our many bags, Jeremy pulled out his new guitar, the one he got for Father’s Day, the one that two very excited children suggested to the grandparents thinking he might like. I watched that same entourage excitedly gather around as he strummed a few notes, and my heart leapt. These non-blood “relatives” were just as happy for him. Their smiles were evidence of that. Perhaps the African cultural voices were also thinking, “Yes! We got a guitar!”
Yes, we did get a guitar, but we, Jeremy, Jen, Joshua, and Emma Grace, we have so much more. We have these beautiful people that enrich our lives.
We have family.