Every now and again, I find myself missing home. I miss the solitude of the farm, beautiful plants and shrubbery growing out of fertile ground, being surrounded by family who know and love you intimately. Sometimes, I just want to go to a place where I can sit on the front porch in screened in contentment while my children run in the huge space around them with no worries of cars hitting them or strangers because the land is just that much of an expanse. Sometimes the drive is more urgent than others—just like it was this weekend. On the way from work Friday afternoon, I knew I needed to go home. I wanted peace and tranquility. I always seem to find a moment of reflection when I am home. Decision made, I checked the weather and selected clothes for my daughter to wear. I told my son we would be visiting NC and to dress accordingly.
Saturday morning, I woke at 7, cooked the kids a yummy breakfast, and was on the road with them by 8:40. Three hours later we were pulling into my my aunt and uncles’ home so they could catch up with the family, see the preggo belly, and talk about life in general. My eldest LOVES stopping at their home when we visit. He likes to play with the drums and his cousin, if he happens to be there.
|Visiting the elders…|
I try to come here as often as I visit because I feel so much better when I do. In this cemetery are grandparents, great-grandparents, great-great grandparents, aunts, and uncles. I come to speak to every last one of them. I feel they are aware of what is going on with me, but I like to share anyway. I talked with them about the baby and life and the delivery. I asked if they would each speak to God on my behalf and ask for a safe delivery. Then, I took the kids up the road to visit another aunt.
Her husband, my uncle, passed away a few months ago. It was great spending time with her because she has such a wisdom and such a strong love of Christ. She and my uncle were foster parents for years and fostered well over 100 children, eventually adopting three, and having their daughter adopt one. She and I share a love of family history. She recently did a DNA search and discovered that she is almost half British! Her breakdown had a significant portion of her genetic materials coming from Ireland! BUT, what’s crazy is we’ve always been taught our family tree starts at a freed slave and a Native American. Her DNA says she is less than 1% Native American. How crazy is that?! She wants me to do mine and I told her I would consider it. I am a bit of a conspiracy nut and haven’t yet decided if I trust having my DNA on file somewhere. But I think it’s super cool that it’s an option.
After I left visiting with her, I took the kids to get a quick bite to eat, enjoyed some burgers and fries, and then rolled to our eldest child’s grandparents’ home. They only recently got the news we were expecting, so that was more than a little fun. We chatted about the pregnancy, about weather, and life in general and it was time to get on the road and return home. I grabbed a quick snack for the kids to eat and made the three hour trek home, stopping only to meet S. and our nephew for dinner
As soon as I got home, my plan was to go straight to bed. I had to get up early the next morning for church service and I wanted to at least be in decent position when I did so..or try to be. But baby girl’s head needed work, so I washed, shampooed, and conditioned her, and then plaited it before bedtime.
That was our weekend. Family, food, fellowship. Hope yours was equally as enjoyable. I’ll talk to you soon!