On Home and Dreams

 Fall is coming. Soon. I know it not just because of the date on the calendar, but also for the gloom outside my window. It seems summer can never go quietly. It must kick and scream and heave great, dying gasps in thunder clap and lightning flash. Every year, always the same.

I always love the coming of fall despite all the clouds and rain. There is something particularly cozy about this season. There is something about it that makes me want to swing wide my front door and usher the world into my kitchen and plop down a steaming bowl of pot pie and a plate of apple crisp.

Actually, just about every season makes me want to do that - share my home and a meal. And when we moved into this place I had grand dreams of all the people we would make welcome in our home. But as dreams often do, this one didn't quite turn out the way I had...well....dreamed.

Don't get me wrong. We did have family and even a couple friends come stay. We've hosted a few couples here and there. Sports have been watched. Games have been played. But the visions of regular dinner parties and game nights and backyard barbecues didn't exactly pan out.

For a short time, the unrealized goal felt like a bit of a failure. Like I hadn't accomplished the things for which I felt this home was given to me. And I told myself it must have been because I wasn't gracious or generous or selfless enough. But the truth is, this house really does have an open door. It is here for anyone who needs it, and we meet those needs as we can. And just because 50 people haven't been packed in at once, and we haven't had a standing weekly dinner for folks doesn't mean it isn't full to the brim with love and hope and peace that rubs off on those who have come.

So this fall, I will remember that the few are as important as the many. For my true dream is to use this place as just another tool to share the light of the gospel - regardless of how many are here.