thesoulpurposedotorg

I’m home for the holiday this year….well, one of my homes…actually my Mother’s home built where our family garden and fruit trees once fed us. My husband and I walked through the neighborhood yesterday (he called it a forced march as he hates all forms of exercise). My running comentary was designed to distract him from his aches and pains. “That house was my grandparents where my mother grew up but it was a bungalow then.” My brothers and I practically lived there, grandma’s basement being a place of adventure and exploration. “There’s where the field and forest was that we played in, creating forts in trees and under their branches and climbing trees and having picnics.” It’s now filled with homes and there’s no creek where once we caught frogs and snails and crayfish. On and on, every space holds memories, wonderful memories of my childhood. The lot where Mrs. Russell’s house used to stand; Mrs. Russell taught me about Jesus in vacation Bible school and her joy made me want to know more. Not all the memories are so great. We walked past the grade school where I have more shaming memories than joyful ones. But all these memories, the dark ones, the light ones, and the shades of grey ultimately were divinely created for me to be formed, sometimes chiseled, into the human vessel called Peg. I am supremely grateful this Thanksgiving to be home and to remember who I am. I am thankful for these memories and for a childhood filled with Grace, both that from God and for my mother whose name is Grace and who allowed my brother’s and I to have such a blessed childhood.