home

It is so good to know that I will be home tomorrow. Life on the road for the better part of the last three weeks has left me drained. I feel like a plow mule who has been worked to exhaustion and is finally being allowed to trudge back to his stable to rest. A pile of hay to sleep on and a roof over my head seems pretty inviting to tell the truth, as long as it is home. I want to look at a Georgia sky for a change; you know the kind I am talking about. The kind of day when an hour or two of winter light remains in the afternoon, but the filter of a brooding storm casts a false twilight across the pines. I want to watch the storm move off the coast, and for that last moment of sunlight to hit me as the sun slips behind the horizon. I want to see my friends and family. I want to be home. I’ll be there tomorrow. I can’t wait.

I am so fortunate to have some great friends that have made the last couple weeks on the road a little more bearable. Seclusion or loneliness comes in two basic varieties. When it results from a desire for solitude, loneliness is a door we close against the world. When the world instead rejects us, loneliness is an open door, unused. I didn’t experience either of them on my trip. My friends came walking through that door everyday while I was away. They weren’t with me physically, but I could feel them with me nonetheless. For those of you who were with me, I say thank you. Your friendship means the world to me, and I do not take you for granted. Just as you were there for me, I promise to be there for you no matter where life’s journey takes you. You can count on that.

I can't wait to be home.