Day Two: Thanksgiving Week
I am thankful for places. My childhood and teen years were spent in Wellston, Missouri, right outside St. Louis. (Go Cardinals!) Most of it was spent on Chatham Avenue. Grandma lived behind us, Ziff cousins right up the street, our church--Chatham Bible Church--was up on the next block, the greatest bakery in the history of the world at the top of the block (Krausse's I think was its name.) High school was a nice walk--"ten miles uphill in the snow; there and back" Mr. Winkler with his horse and fresh vegetable truck--with chunks of ice on hot St. Louis days. Even more refreshing than a Pepsi. Basketball in the alley with Eddie; baseball in the streets. I envy no one his or her childhood--the growing up years.
College and the few years afterward were a number of unmemorable hangouts. The next place that is dear to my heart is a little garage turned into an apartment in Bainbridge, Georgia. Out in the country, fishing pond behind it. Brad was born while we lived there. I would gladly trade that garage home for many of the places I've lived in my nomadic life. And, of course, the little home the boys and I lived in in South Carolina after Susan left us. My sister, Janice, and her husband, Dewey, let us live their for practically nothing--one of our lives greatest blessings. Woods behind for the boys to explore and wander and get lost in. Brad the Trailblazer would always find the way home. A place of quiet healing for us. The name of the town says it all: Traveler's Rest. Indeed--for body and soul.
All the places after that kind of blend together--Clintonville, down near campus, East side, apartments in the Worthington area. Stops along the way. Good places for the most part. The hearts make the home, do they not?
And now, finally (I hope and pray) The Acres. The perfect place for me (perfect but not perfected)--a place in the country with room for all the things I cherish--quiet, solitude, beauty. (Wish you could have joined me on my early morning walk in the dark and the snowfall today.) Dick Ault was the friend God used to find The Acres for me. (I'm sure one of the many stars in his crown was for leading me here.) It has everything a flower lover could covet--areas of bright sun, dappled shade, deep shade, a pond, a bog (come on, how many people have their own swamp?) Any flower can find a place to thrive here. And feathered friends are abundant as well--the colors of winter. God saved the "best place" for last. By His grace it will be my final place on this gorgeous earth. I am resting contentedly in Philippians 1--to live is Christ, to die gain, to go home so much better, to be used to touch lives for Him until my calling is complete.
Places. He has undoubtedly led me to each and every place with love and patience and provision. And, of course, by His grace the actual "best place"--perfect and perfected, still awaits. Home. He has gone to prepare a place for me in His Father's House. Thank You, Lord, for the places you have planted me along the way in my journey Home. And thank You for this place, The Acres! I couldn't have chosen a better one for my olden times. For the beauty of my place on earth, I give you thankful praise!
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