September was a unique month for me. I was able to go back to where I grew up. I connected with some of the kids I went to school with at a reunion. I spent quality time with each of my siblings. I even spent time with my dad’s last remaining sister.
To say nostalgia was rampant would be an understatement.
Some things have changed. That’s inevitable.
The family farm has been sold. The fields across the street from it are being developed into its own farm by an Amish family.
The cemetery that I worked at isn’t as well kept as it was back in the day.
My hometown of White Cloud is struggling.
Some things have remained much the same.
Four of my six siblings live in the same homes they were in twenty years ago.
People are still dying to get into the cemetery.
The sign coming into town still reads: White Cloud, where the north begins and pure waters flow.
It was good traipsing around my old stomping grounds. Many of the landmarks brought back sweet memories. A few of the trees hinted at the coming season of change. I smiled at them. October was always my favorite month to drive around Michigan.
After mom died some of my siblings wanted me to move back. I could have lived in the farmhouse.
I remember a brief conversation I had with a co-worker the last October I lived in Michigan. The leaves were in full color. The air was crisp not cold.
Normally the excitement of the season was upon me by then. Hunting season brought the promise of fresh venison through the winter.
I felt nothing as I stood in the warehouse doorway. Bob walked out next to me.
Before he could speak I said, “I don’t belong here anymore.”
Barb and I had moved back, yet again, about a year and a half before that time. We had returned after another failed attempt to live out west. Out of frustration I told her we were never leaving Michigan again if we moved back then.
I have lived in my apartment for ten years now. Have been a member of the church I attend twelve years.
The entire drive back to Texas I never shook the feeling that I was heading home. It felt good to admit that.
Even now I’m not completely satisfied. I want to be physically closer to my siblings and attend “my” church.
The 100 degree days in Texas are unbearable at times, especially when I’m wrestling king-sized mattresses in a trailer.
My hands are still the first part of me that freezes when winter rolls in.
I know what the deep seated problem is…I’m still not Home.
Yeah, Home with a capital H.
Heaven is my ultimate Home.
The Bible says heaven has perfect living conditions. There won’t even be any shadows because God is the source of light.
Of course we’ll be in glorified spiritual bodies that won’t feel cold or heat. We won’t need to kill anything to survive. We won’t be separated by seas or distance from those we love.
My corpse will be planted in a cemetery somewhere unless it disappears in the rapture.
I won’t even worry about hauling any of my stuff there. I like that thought.
Do you want to know what keeps me going here and now?
I don’t want to go there alone. I want to bring as many folks with me as I can get to come.
That’s what I love about this writing journey I’m on. I get to reach people I’ll never see. They can even read my stuff after I’m Home.
I pray you catch this passion, too. Let’s tell everybody that Jesus thinks they’re to die for.
Unfortunately too few will want what we have. They’re too caught up in the trappings of this world to care.
They can’t see heaven so they refuse to believe it exists.
Don’t let that stop you. It’s not up to us to make them believe.
We need to tell them so they know. What they do with that information is up to them.
They definitely won’t believe if we never tell them. How can they?
Do what you can. So will I.
I’ll see you later. Wade
