It’s good to return home after being away. Our cat has been kneading his paws in the air; a sure sign of contentment. As a child visiting family, I remember falling asleep to the lullaby of cicadas. There was no air conditioning in that home, so open windows allowed the rhythmic cicada chorus to reach forte dynamics. Then they would all decrescendo together before gradually reaching forte again. Each summer while visiting family near the ocean, the distant sound of a foghorn from the lighthouse would lull me to sleep. The foggy night air no longer resonates with the horn’s baritone voice. I miss that lonely, comforting sound. Even when far from home, certain memories can still be comforting. These memories seem to be full of love. Where love is, and where the heart lives, that’s home.
The heart is where Christ dwells in us. –2 Corinthians 13:5
Bread for the Journey 