Issue 15
“The steps of the godly are directed by the Lord. He delights in every detail of their lives.” Psalm 37:23
Dear Friends and Family,
It is good to be back at the ranch in Texas. The sun is shinning and it is still summer here, and this is one reason why I am glad to be “home” in Port A: the trip to Cleveland cured my homesickness! God provided perfect fall weather for the first week or so of our visit, and I enjoyed watching the leaves change and all the beautiful Ohio fall landscapes. (See lame photos attached.) But as usual in Cleveland, good weather is rare. It inevitably turned cold, rainy and dreary, and something we’d forgotten about happened to us: we just wanted to crawl into bed at 8pm and put the covers over our heads. We couldn’t wait to get back to blue skies and sunshine and warmth.
It appears distance does not have an effect on true friendship. I was hanging out, jazzercising, eating, and just doing dumb stuff with my friends like I had never left. It was great. To all my friends in Cleveland, thanks for spending time with us. It was really appreciated and I feel very loved.
My trip to Cleveland was an odd package of sensations and emotions. From the moment we arrived and hustled down the familiar dingy corridors of Cleveland Hopkins Airport to get our luggage it felt like an out of body experience. I recalled how many times those halls used to mean the end of the journey, the last leg of coming home. We would always be so tired but have just enough energy left to gather up our suitcases, find our car, and head home with a sigh of relief to our little haven, our little dog, and flop into our familiar bed. But this time there was no sigh of relief. In fact, although familiar it all seemed different, as if the perspective was off. Everything in Cleveland held that sensation of being a diorama of my life. It was a nostalgic and contemplative journey that made me wonder, “where is home?”
I am without a doubt a product of Cleveland; its dust is in my bones. My grandparents and parents are buried in its dirt. As I trekked up and down the old streets of Cleveland and reacquainted myself with many favorite landmarks, I noticed how worn away the town looks from generations of souls calling this place home. I felt the collective pressure of a city full of people living out there lives here. I wondered at how tenuously we live on this planet. When we are born we are dispensed into this world like a gumball, and where we land is where we call home. I think Cleveland will always be home in the sense that it is where I grew up and lived for over half my life, but home is more than that. Home is where we spend our time. Where we spend our time eating and resting. Where we spend our time with people we love. Home can be wherever we create that restorative, safe, and private place.
I feel at home now in my little townhouse by the ocean. I believe God has directed our steps to Port Aransas and I feel safe and at home in His hands.
May God bless you and give you much time to live and love.
Your Friend,
Janis