I did not sleep much last night as the rhythmic noise of the fan in the room below ours kept me wide awake. I put words to the rhythms and made up songs, my mind took me to many places in my childhood and my future, I thought a lot of issues through without coming up with any workable answers, and I tossed and turned while my husband laid quietly beside me.
Not that I minded at all, really. Because the rhythm of the fan meant that my youngest child was home for the night, and that is a very rare occasion these days. Upstairs, my daughter was sleeping in what is now the guestroom and used to be her room. My other two grown-up kids, Matthieu and Amber, had spent the day with us and were now on a one-night get-away.
We do get together for Christmas, Thanksgiving and some of our birthdays, and we occasionally see the kids one at a time for different reasons or for no reason at all, but we rarely see them all at the same time. This Sunday, we sat around a meal of corn and chicken, and laughed about the past, asked hard questions about the present, dreamed about the future. I heard conversations about investing and how to do it best in this difficult economy, I watched them encourage each other in the Lord, speak difficut truth in love, and be ridiculously goofy. I soaked it all in, listening quietly from my corner, drinking freely of the joy of being the mom.
This morning, the last two left. One was on her way to the mall before heading home, and the other was going back to the place he calls home now. We are not really home anymore. Maybe still homebase, safety from any storm that life might throw at them. And it is wonderful that way. They don’t need me to be their home anymore because they have found their own way in this world and have discovered the secret that is the key to all other secrets: JESUS Himself is their home, and they never leave home without Him. So I really don’t need to be their home anylonger, and I guess it is a sign of success for their father and I. But as they left today, I found myself chocking up. I love them so much it hurts. They have given me such joy, they are such pride to me. All is well with me, I just needed to readjust to the lovely peaceful silence in my home.

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