Home is my destination

I am walking, running, and skipping my way down this long, winding road; the journey that leads home. 

I see long, lonely stretches and busy market places; small towns and huge cities, smooth road and rocky hills, safe places and dangers, distractions that take my attention off the goal - my destination.  Sometimes there are footprints in the dust and sometimes I try to mimic them, but far too often I try to cut my own road - alone.  I want to share the journey, shoulder-to-shoulder, with my family and friends.  I don't want to make this journey alone.   I am afraid of making a wrong turn, being mugged, or giving up altogether.  I want company so we can keep each other on the right road, point out certain beauty we might miss, wake each other when we nap too long, and to remind us why we’re on this road; to help us when (not if) we stumble, introduce us to new friends, to make the trip interesting and fun.  Fun is good.

I love this road - this journey.  The path has more than its share of “white crosses” on the shoulder.  Friends have been lost along the way, some wanted to take a different road, some were distracted not watching where they went, some ran ahead and I’ll see them soon.  There are beautiful places to rest, cool streams, green grass; safe places, we think, but many were scared of the unknown road ahead, or content to rest here and stay too long.  Feeling safe here is false security.   This road is not our home.    

I am so very thankful for the scenic route, but home is my destination.