I haven’t been home in a long time.

I grew up 5 hours away from where I have made my home for the last 28 years. And since I left in 1991 I have maybe returned three times before this. Once when my father died. Once for a class reunion. Once for a family reunion. I think that’s about it.

I’m not sure why really. Many of my childhood friends are still there. Some of my extended family still lives there. But once my father died and my mother moved away, I think it just didn’t feel like home anymore. My mom and dad were my home and they weren’t there any longer.

I grew up in a small town with a small lake right in the middle of it.  Our hometown parades marched right through the middle of town and past the lake. I can remember marching in those parades twirling a baton and later as a cheerleader and drill team member with our high school band. Christmas parades were magical to me then.

When I was young, our little town was sheltered from the “big city” nearby.  That’s not the case any longer. We had one high school. I graduated with about 400 students in my graduating class but we all seemed to know each other. And thanks to Facebook many of us have reconnected at least virtually. It’s funny to look at those faces on Facebook and in a second my mind’s eye sees them as they were in high school the last time I saw them. I graduated from high school in 1983…how in the world did time pass by so quickly?

The house I lived in when I was born was on “Main Street” and was a two lane road. Today that area of town has been swallowed by franchise restaurants, Wal-Mart, Jiffy Lubes and a Holiday Inn Express and is now a four lane highway.  I would have never imagined it. I later moved to another end of town in 5th grade…a small wood frame house on a dirt road that my dad added on to and let me pick out shag carpet for my new bedroom. Man that was a big deal! I can still see it now!

A recent family wedding gave me the chance to make a trip home. My  husband and one of our daughters went with me. It was fun for Jack and I to find our first house ( a rental)  and also the house we built before we moved and where our first daughter was born. We drove through the town where we passed the old drugstore…still the same…where my dad would take me when I was a small child to get orange pineapple icecream at the soda fountain.  We were able to show our daughter the church where we were married, my high school and also the baseball complex that was named after my father a few years ago.

Lyndsay never met her grandfather, as he passed while I was pregnant with her…but he would have loved her. Our oldest daughter Lauren was the apple of his eye. Oh how he lit up when he was around her as a baby.

Lyndsay has some of his sense of humor. And she was an athlete which he would also have loved! My father started league baseball in our town back in the 1940’s. It was a mill town and he decided the kids needed something to do. So he did what he had to to make it happen. Now he wasn’t a wealthy man. He first worked in the local mills (who he talked into sponsoring the first team) and then a custodian at the local high school. But he had a heart for the community and the community loved him. Many players from those baseball teams went on to play college ball and some even went to the major league.

In 2008 the town named a baseball complex in my dad’s honor…the Pat Caulder Baseball Complex and in 2013 established the Pat Caulder Baseball Award. When giving the first award to a young player, the town leaders stated “This award is not necessarily for the best ball player, the one that had the most home runs or the best batting average,” Hall said. “It’s for a person who demonstrates leadership abilities, character, integrity, sportsmanship and a good attitude.” Those words could describe my dad. He would have been humbled and proud. It’s a great example that you don’t have to be rich or highly educated to make a difference in your community. You just have to care.

The wedding was a great celebration and gave us a special time with my family, my mother’s family. Since her passing a few years ago, that left just three of her eight siblings still with us. Our weekend gave us a time to visit with my 95 year old aunt and my 87 year old uncle. They are precious and when I talk with them I see my mother in their features…their eyes, their smile, their hand gestures. We talked about funny stories, and the time my grandparents brought all 8 of their children in the back of a car from Arkansas to North Carolina . My grandfather traded a man a cow to drive his wife and children across the country…he was already in NC at his new job. Oh the stories they told of that trip!

My trip home also gave me a short window to visit with a dear friend. We grabbed breakfast together on Sunday morning. She was my very best friend in high school and I had not seen her in close to 30 years. How is that possible that we let that much time go by? As soon as I got out of the car she came running from the restaurant and we hugged and reconnected as if no time had passed. We talked of the crazy antics we did, the night of NC State’s basketball championship in 1983 when we drove around in her sports car with the windows down and the radio blasting while we screamed through the town celebrating, our fond memories of our high school band performances! She was still the same best friend from high school…gosh the memories came rushing back and we talked non stop for over an hour recalling good times, catching up on news of the Town and other friends…my heart was at home.

Going home can mean a lot of things. It can bring good and bad memories for so many. For me, this trip home with my husband and daughter was a good thing. It’s funny how just being in the town of your childhood transports you back to that time. To the person you were then.  It’s a reminder of who I am. My roots.  Connecting with family just ties your heartstrings together again. And it makes me proud of my family’s heritage and their generations of faith in God.

Going home has a way of saying to you…you went away and thought you had grown up to be someone else as you allow the world and circumstances  and experiences press on you and try to change you….nope remember…this is who you are. These are the places and the people who formed who you are.  Just remember who you are.

And on this earth, aren’t we all just trying to “go home”. To go home to see our Father? To that heavenly home that is waiting on us? As much as we love those places and people here who create “home” for us…there is no comparison to our heavenly home.

This life can be hard. And sad. And full of worry and doubt. But our true home is waiting on us with our loved ones and a loving Father eagerly waiting for us to join them.

As we make our way towards that home, we must remember that while here we are all trying to make that journey. We need to help one another on the way home. We need to remember that some people we know don’t know about that Home…they don’t know how to get there. We need to come up beside others, friends and enemies, and help each other on our journey to meet the Father.

Sometimes we are more like stumbling blocks to others though. I’m sad that I have probably been a stumbling block to others at times. And I can tell  you that I have had stumbling blocks in my way too. But gosh that is sure not God’s will.

Romans 14:13
Therefore let us not pass judgment on one another any longer, but rather decide never to put a stumbling block or hindrance in the way of a brother.

Let me be reminded that the thought of going home should bring a smile to our hearts, a longing in our soul for a place where we belong, a place where our Father calls us by name. A place where our Father longs for us to be with Him.

And a reminder that we are to help others in their journey Home too. Encourage one another. Share your testimony with someone who needs to hear what God has done for you. Make their burden lighter and their journey easier…after all,  you are going to be sharing a home one day.

M

A sweet time catching up with my childhood BFF

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