Today, after my class was over, my intermission for studying fulfilled, the dialogue appointment for Arabic successfully executed, and a slow, meandering walk home in a drizzly atmosphere, and after I had straightened the humble abode in which I dwell, I picked up the phone and dialed 9-1800-506-9511-46XX-85XX-39XX-701-282-72XX.
Twelve hundred miles away, my mother answered, her voice as clear as the gentle wind. At my home in far away North Dakota, in the southern corner of the state, outside the town called Fargo, in a nook of the Sheyenne River, in a two story pale blue house, in a large kitchen painted forest green with shimmering flecks of gold, the daycare children were making puzzles out of homemade drawings.
Amanda was inquisitive, Jacob was commanding, Alexandra was adorably sweet, Shandra was whimpering. Amy was humming, Adam was passing through, and Mom was reading a letter from Elizabeth. Elizabeth was relaying a story of gratitude for my mother. Ashley was rehearsing for her play. Daddy was working with a client.
And I was left in awe.
This truly is God’s Work and His Glory.
The Family.
My family.
2 comments:
Lately I'm find myself homesick which is extremely unusual to me seeing as how I haven't lived at home in 3 years.
After my last visit home however, I can entirely identify.
I like you. You nailed it.
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