Monday, June 14, 2010

Home where I belong

Home.  Dead tired and glad to see my own bed.  Awakened too early to take our Big Lug to the vet.  I should say, back to the vet, because while the kids and I were off partying in the Palouse, Beve was taking Jackson to the vet every single day.  Poor big dog had pieces of bone ground like sandstone into his intestines and couldn't blast it out no matter what they tried.  Poor Beve, trying to deal with a very sick dog on his own.  Now my husband is a capable, independent man, but ask him to deal with something medical, and he trembles in his size 15s.  It isn't that he can't do it, it's just that he hasn't had to.  But our vet said he did a masterful job in a very dicey situation and without him Jackson surely would have died.  For all that, I think Beve was more glad to see me get home than from any other trip...

Well, except maybe from the trip I took with my mom and sisters to Great Britain.  We had a whole entire other family living in our house with us, and it was a very difficult situation.  Beve felt like he did marriage counseling almost every night of the three weeks I was gone, and our kids often holed up in our bedroom just to get away from all the drama.  They were never so glad to see anyone in their lives as they were to see me get home that spring--home to deal with this family, help smooth the waters, help tell them they had to leave!

I'm always glad to get home, where I sleep better, have a set routine.  My body needs that.  My spirit needs that.  My dogs need it-- they have us home where we all belong!

But it was a great time in the Palouse.  A beautiful wedding, a wonderful time with family.  We took a whole lot of photos, ate a whole lot of great food, had many good conversations.  I'll be thinking about it for a while, posting thoughts later in the week.  The bride and groom were tall and beautiful together, fit fit like a glove when they vowed and kissed and danced together.

This bride, my niece, grew up with a plan for her life.  She and my youngest daughter had always talked about their futures.  They are both planners, come from a long line of planners (it's in my family's DNA), and 'knew' exactly what their futures would be, as SK reminded us in her toast Saturday.  L, the Bride, intended to leave her hometown when she graduated from college, go off and work in the hotel/hospitality industry.  She loves the farm and ranch she grew up on, but intended something else for her life.  She didn't want to marry a farmer.  However, God has a way of interrupting human plans.  He always does, if we're paying attention to Him.  The older L grew the more she grew into the place of her birth.  I watched it happen.  When she was a child and even an adolescent, farming and all its accouterments sat uncomfortably on her tall thin shoulders.  But a few years ago L spent a summer away from home, in the hospitality industry, and when she returned, something had shifted.  Home looked better, the land looked richer, the draws where she rode her horses were more beautiful and the sky wider than where she'd been.  She'd been away and learned that, like Dorothy, if she couldn't find it in her own backyard (and her backyard is miles wide, waving with grain), then maybe it's not worth having.  This was her place in all the world.  God grew her out of her childhood dreams and showed her who she really was.  This was her true 'home where I belong' in all the earth.

It wasn't a year later that she met P, a farmer. And not just a farmer, but one who farms in the same county, one who, if you follow the flats just down the hill from her own farm far enough, you'd come to his family's farm, though it's a town, and 45 minutes, away.  A farmer who knows the same rhythm of the land, seasons and life that she's lived, that her family's lived for four generations.  She didn't think she wanted such a life until she grew up and realized it was the only life she wanted.  God interrupted her dreams to give her a reality, because, in no small way, her brand-new husband is also her 'home-where-I-belong'.

As He does.  Because He knows us.  He lets us dream, lets our imaginations run wild, and then, if our flights of fancy soar too far off course, He reins us in, interrupts us by showing us who we really are, and giving us who we really need.  Showing us where home is.  He did for my niece.  He did for me, when He let me wander far, far away, then led me back to the boy next door to spend my life with.  And He does it again, every time He brings me home.  This--yes, this--is where I belong.

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