Home is a Great Place

Leaving town was very exciting. It was exhausting to try and keep things on track but the trip went great. Lots of good times. M-E is exhausted by all of it but it was well worth it. We are still recovering from the after affects, my suitcase is not unpacked. The house could use a little work and Lucy is still not very happy with us.

I decided I just needed to rest and sew a bit today. I have not done that for awhile and it was good to see that I knew how to cut and paste a bit.

I was in the car by myself on the way home. It was the first time I had been so far from home. I was remembering the long drive from Chelan to Seattle. I just started to cry. The tears just came from nowhere. I realize I have been under enormous stress for a very very long time. I had not had time to just sit with it and make it my friend. I needed to do that. We are a family that moves onward and upward and forward and one of no regrets. It tends to keep you in motion which is good but sometimes you have to stop and check in. I did some checking in on that right home.

I stopped for a hamburger at BurgerVille. I grabbed some things from the back of the car and found a poem in the St. Joe's bulletin. Father Chris was discussing the death of John Paul II and shared this poem with us. Granted it is a poem about death but more than that is a lesson in how to live.

When death comes
like the hungry bear in autumn;
when death comes and takes all the bright coins from his purse
to buy me, and snaps the purse shut;
when death comes
like the measly-pox;
when death comes
like an iceberg between the shoulder blade,
I want to step through the door full of curiosity, wondering;
what is it going to be like, that cottage of darkness?
And therefore I look upon everything
as a brotherhood and a sisterhood,
and I look upon time as no more than an idea,
and I consider eternity as another possiblity,
and I think of each life as a flower, as common
as a field daisy, and as singular,
and each name a comfortable music in the mouth
tending as all music does, toward silence,
and each body a lion of courage, and something
precious to the earth.
When it's over, I want to say: all of my life
I was a bride married to amazement.
I was a bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.
When it's over, I don't want to wonder
if I have made of my life something particular, and real.
I don't want to find myself sighing and frightened
or full of argument.
I don't want to end up simply having visited this world.

by Mary Oliver

I am glad we went on our little adventure. I am glad that I had a few moments to sit with myself. I am glad that I found the poem and that we are home. I feel pretty confident that we are living to the fullest and more than just visitors.