Home is Where the Heart Is

Where we live in Mississippi is out in the country, on a pothole-filled county road that runs between our house, Hannah and Adam's house, and Adam's parents and sister's houses. The maximum distance between all four places is about 100 yards, give or take. Hannah's three kids run between the four houses at all hours of the day, and we know that if we can't find a rugrat underfoot, they will be at one of the four places.

But because people are crazy fast drivers out on these country roads, we also have trained the kids to be very careful when crossing and walking near the road. Y'all—when I tell you people fly so fast down this road, it is not at all an understatement. Sometimes, they hit the potholes so hard and fast that I see their heads hitting the ceiling of their cars from the impact!

And because of that Daytona 500 Speedway factor, one of us adults will make sure the kids' treks between houses is a safe one. One day recently, Tate (6) asked me to watch him walk down to Big Mama's house (his other grandma), so I stood in my front yard as he started down the hill to her place. Usually, he takes off walking/running and doesn't give me another thought. But on this day, for some reason, he walked a bit more slowly, and every few steps, he would look back over his shoulder to make sure I was still watching him. He would see me, smile, and keep on truckin'. The entire length of his walk, he would repeat that check-in process. And every time, he would find me in the same spot--waving, watching, and smiling at him.

Even when he reached her yard, he looked back and made sure I was there, and just before he disappeared into her garage, he stopped and waved his little hands wildly while looking back up the hill at me. I laughed and waved back at that little goofball, then headed back inside.

That little speck inside the circle is my Tate! 

We all need that, don't we? That assurance that someone cares about where we are going, whether we will get there safely, and that we can always, always return home for a smile and a hug. My youngest at college, on the precipice of her next big adventure, still wants to know I will drive down for a lunch date and a Mama touch. My adult son, now building his own family, still touches home plate several times a week by calling to share little and big news. The nightly FaceTime sessions with his baby boy are the highlight of this long-distance Granna's evenings. My oldest, living right across the street, still wants to go on daily walks with me. 

We all need to be needed, and we all need to have a place and a heart to call home and to call our sanctuary. I am so thankful the Lord, in His goodness and grace, has equipped me to be that for my precious family, just as He has been for me. God longs to be our home plate as well, and no matter how far we are walking, we can always look back over our shoulder and find Him there, waiting, watching, and waving from His front yard. 

 

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