Poetry Wednesday, Vol. 67

We are home! Last night we loaded up all our stuff, into our van and Grandma's van - Mike's car had broken down last week, so all his work was loaded into our van - and we set out for home.

I had spent the week thinking about how little it takes to make us happy, and headed home determined to get rid of things, to have less. With Advent coming it seems a perfect time to divest ourselves of all the extra things that get in our way. I rode home thinking of what I will get rid of, where it will go, how can we make do with less.

Our arrival home was a great happiness as we viewed our perfect floors. No one was more surprised at how nicely our floors turned out than the floor guy. When they began the job he was full of warnings - These floors are real bad. I don't know if they'll clean up. Don't expect too much. We didn't, but they turned out beautifully. And now we are home.

Our arrival home was also one of great sadness when we discovered that the freezer downstairs was not on. There was black stuff leaking out of it. All that meat! All those pounds of fruit we picked this summer! That turkey! Those guayabas for ponche! Through my tears I told Mike to leave it alone, don't even open it, we'll deal with it tomorrow, and I went upstairs to cry a little. Just when I had gotten myself together and was viewing the loss a little more philosophically, Didn't I want less? Don't I want to get rid of things? In my head I was beginning to sing "Dios Cuida De Mi...." when Mike came up with good news. He had opened the freezer, and the black stuff was cherry juice from a leaky bag. All the meat was still completely frozen! A fuse had been thrown, but he had fixed it! I would hasten to add that it is not fixed completely. This morning we found it barely holding on to its frozen state. I will have to do some fancy maneuvering to pack everything into my freezer under the fridge, but we will make do.

I've known this since I was little, but needed a week to remember it. Home is your family and where you are at that moment. Yes, it is nice to have your house with your things, but you must have your little family to be truly home. At Grandma and Grandpa's house we had our Bible, our poetry, our book of Saints. We had our hymns and our songs we have been learning and we had each other. We had home.

Home, My Little Children, Here Are Songs For You
by Robert Louis Stevenson

COME, my little children, here are songs for you;
Some are short and some are long, and all, all are new.
You must learn to sing them very small and clear,
Very true to time and tune and pleasing to the ear.

Mark the note that rises, mark the notes that fall,
Mark the time when broken, and the swing of it all.
So when night is come, and you have gone to bed,
All the songs you love to sing shall echo in your head.