last saturday we hit up our local farmers’ market; after seven point five years of living in this town i thought maybe we should give it a look-see. those farmish folk had fresh eggs and sweet corn and tiny cupcakes topped with slices of sugared lime: i was straight-up in love.
recently it dawned on me that this is likely our last american summer with the whole crew in house. if all swims along nicely, we’ll ship out in a year and not head back for home assignment till our oldest is in college. so suddenly there’s Serious Pressure to make these next couple months all kinds of memorable.
but i got to thinking about what i’d like our kids to associate with the US, and it’s not so much the fanfare of theme parks or national monuments or the big apple, as much as i love all those guys. mostly i want ‘the states’ to mean just the sort of every day midwesterny adventures we’ve been having: hayrides and sugar snap peas and backyard sprinklers.
(speaking of adventuring, i hopped online to check out baseball tickets for our minor league team, and pretty much it doesn’t matter what the price is, anything x 7 = expensive. but that very afternoon my nine year old won four tickets in our library’s weekly drawing. God still somehow stuns me with his sweetness.)
we came home from the market with honey, napa cabbage, naan and a pound of sweet peas. L was my fellow pea de-stringer, and as we worked i told her about snapping beans in the mudroom of my grandparents’ indiana farmhouse, and us kids climbing and skidding in the corn hoppers. about july thunderstorms and picking raspberries and how grandpa once bought a box of chicks from the hatchery. one of those feathered guys fell asleep in my lap on the truckride home, its downy frame pulsing quick with breath.
these are the slips of childhood summers that stick with me.
but even more than storing memories, i’m hoping God will sharpen our hunger for a home unseen. and that meanwhile, right here and kenya and all the wild and quiet spaces between will feel Just Like Home because He’s already there.
what says ‘home’ to you?