So I read a poem to my Son the other night…
He always listens patiently – he knows the writer through her words.
He listened a bit more carefully this time…
She was telling a story about a place he knows well.
As is usual, by the time I was through, there were tears flowing down.
Normally he would just spend a quiet moment – he’s that way.
We took a picture.
I remember the things she wrote about – I was there.
I just wanted her to be able to see it.
It’s three buildings away from a certain Lutheran Church…
I’ll share that too.
Sometimes, all we want is a bit of home.