Coming Home

Coming Home

I wondered if there would ever come a day when my children would be grown up, leave home and start their own families. Looking back, it seemed like only yesterday that one by one they left home venturing out on their own. Eventually there was just Judy, the dog and me. It wasn’t like I thought it would be.

Not long ago, returning from a ministry trip with the two elders of our church, I listened to their excitement to be heading back home to their families. Both spoke with a father’s heart about their children. One said his son was sick with the flu and probably would give it to everybody else by the time he got there. The other commented on upcoming doctor, dentist and school appointments for his kids that clogged the calendar.

Their conversation triggered memories of the past wondering what I would find when I got home. Hugs at the front door. Toys and messes accumulated while away. Dishes and unwashed clothes forsaken for a weekend of frivolity while dad wasn’t there to bring order and discipline.

At the time I was sure I would not miss it. The dog still barks when I arrive and Judy hugs me and says she missed me. But the joy of little faces welcoming dad home isn’t there. Now if I want little kid hugs, I have to track down the grandkids who are busy with school and friends.

I didn’t realize back then that when the kids left so did the vibrancy of our home. Oh, I still see our grown kids but it’s not the same. Those days are gone and now only brought to mind by listening to two dads eager to end a road trip and be with their family.

On my nightstand I have a small, framed photo of our family taken at a time when there was real excitement as I walked in the door. The house is quite now and only interrupted when the doorbell rings and in comes the grandkids. Peace and quiet come at a cost.