Maybe he really is as good at his job then as he is now, but I didn’t know it because I was so singularly focused on something else.  

Our past doesn’t become the past until we let is pass.  As long as that box of magazines is in my home, it’s the present.  They are not magazines of yesterday, they’re the magazines in my attic today. They needed to become the past.  

Mom taught grammar for years, but isn’t a stickler for the details (except ‘finished’ and ‘done.’ Only turkeys on the kitchen table are ‘done.’  I, on the other hand am ‘finished’ with my homework.  I learned that one the hard way).

By this point, we’re creeping up on midnight and running out of the energy necessary to maintain decorum.  Magically, the clothes disappeared and she was able to finish the load.  

Why then, does he feel more aligned to the Creator in software than in church? Because those are his gifts. Because he is made imago Dei, in the image of the Creator.

Ben will find a new career.  He will find a place to exercise his talents in a healthy and productive way.  He may or may not lead hundreds, but I’d bet both the dollars in my pocket that Ben won’t forget. He won’t forget what he learned and how much of a better leader he is now as a result of his experience. 

Standing at the south end of this baby cage, I locked the rolling wheels and locked in my gaze on my boy: my bride made that.  She made him and him made me a father. Wow.    

As a man that has known the grace of God, I understand ‘home.’  I understand the feeling of ’not home’ as well.  I’ll leave the technicalities to the theologians, but I want my children and my neighbors and my co-workers to know ‘home.’  That feels a better description of grace.  Come home, won’t you.