Thoughts of home have filled my last few days.
Or perhaps I should say thoughts about the many homes I know.
I realized that no matter how much I like New York, where I now live; no matter how much I like Louisville where I spent ten years and where I make many trips for work; no matter how much I like Cleveland Heights where Tricia lives now and we raised our family; no matter how much, and most days how much means a great deal, I will always, always, always bleed black and gold.
But this week also saw our ministry host a group from First Presbyterian Church of Albuquerque, New Mexico. And in our conversations I found myself longing for Ghost Ranch and Northern New Mexico, the home of my soul, the place where, every time I visit, I know I belong in a way like I belong in no other place on the planet.
Home of my childhood.
Home of my family.
Home of transition.
Home of the present.
Home of my soul.
All precious places. All blur together.
I give thanks for my homes and I pray and work for the day when all people have a safe place to call home.
See you along the Trail.