Oh, that Methodist Thrift store!
Here's a funny thing- on the sign in front of the church it says,"Prayer is not a wish list," yet on the counter of the thrift store there's a jar you can put prayer requests into. Which seems...I don't know...contradictory?
Well, so much of life is.
I would like to stay long enough to do all the laundry, make the bed up fresh, fold clean towels and put them back where we found them. I guess that's silly but I swear to you, that's exactly what I did the first time I ever stayed here. "Oh, can't leave yet. Gotta wash this dish towel!"
But yes, but no. We have to go home. I miss my boys or to be more exact, perhaps, I am thinking of them fondly. I have to teach Gibson to say MerMer. He is calling me MeeMee and although that is darling, it will not do. Owen named me as is his right, being the first grandson and thus it is.
So yes. We have to go home which is a fine, fine place to be. It's just hard to leave.
And that's all I can say about that. I cried when we got here and I'll probably cry when we leave and I don't pray but it is my most definite wish to come back and tears are the heart's prayer to make it so.
See you at home.