Sunday, March 10, 2013

Going Home Again

I don't care what they say - you can go home again, at least for a little while.

I moved to Nashville when I was eight years old.  I graduated high school here.  After law school and marriage, Gena and I came back here to live for thirteen years.  So I have lived here for 22 or 23 years of my life.  We have been back periodically over the last ten years since we left, and I always feel that I am coming home again.

I do not mean to disparage my current home town.  We have a good life where we are, with friends, good jobs, and a church family.

Still. if you ask me where "home" is, I will always say Nashville.

Staying with good friends.  Driving around the city.  Going to church.  It is home.

But home really is people.  Some people are out of town this weekend.  We haven't seen them all.  But we have seen plenty.  I will change the names here, since I have not asked permission, but my friends will recognize themselves.

Craig and Lisa shared all about their kids who are now in college.  I was in their wedding in a different state, and I have known him for many years.  There is nothing to "catch up on" when we get back together.  There is nothing discernable that has been missed.  We simply pick back up.

Greg and Norma immediately dive into conversation with us.  We have traveled together, raised kids together, gone through heartache together.  And now we sit and talk once again.

Peter knows me in ways nobody else does.  I don't exactly know why, except that he and I are cut from the same cloth.  We understand each other with nothing more than an exchange of looks across a room.

Leslie does not change.  I have known her since I was in high school and she was just out of college, and she and her husband Bob have always been something of role models for Gena and me.  She never changes.

I sat in the congreagation and looked up into the choir loft, where I had my place for years.  I saw dozens of faces, some new but mostly of folks with whom I sang and communed and grew and shared and lived.

We went to the hospital this afternoon.  It happens that while we are home, our friend Sharon has just had surgery, so we dropped in to see her and her husband Mike.  Another friend of a couple of dozen years, Rob, was there as well.

Lunch with several families.  Conversations.  Just seeing some faces.  Sam and Angie.  Stan and Mary.  Melissa.

The buildings are nice.  The streets are largely the same.  The scenery brings back memories.

But when I see and talk with and love on the people, I know that I have come home again.

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