Summer has officially kicked off. We have been working hard on the yard and helping some of the kids begin new ventures.  Weekends at home are sacrosanct however – especially holiday weekends.  This first long weekend of summer took us all over town.  The sun set on a good number of us here at home afterwards with hot dogs grilled over the fire and backyard games.  It's what we do and I love that even though they can go where they please these days they still sometimes choose to come here.

20 odd years ago I had a friend who was one of 13 children.  Her husband came from a similarly sized family.  She mentioned how much they loved going "home" to get together.  Over the years her in-law's had made thoughtful additions to their modest midwestern family home to ensure their growing clan always enjoyed their time there.  A swingset one year.  A swimming pool later.  A ping pong table.  It was one of those casual conversations that planted a seed in my mind.  

Everything we do around here is with an eye towards the time we spend together.  What would make it nice sitting on the deck or what games could half a dozen people play at once in the yard?

I never take for granted that the time our adult children take to come here is their vacation.  It's such a blessing when they choose to spend it with us.  There is nothing better than falling asleep with the windows open on a summer night and hearing their laughter and shouts wafting up to us.  

We are not perfect.  Neither are they. Sometimes we step on toes.  Sometimes we make grave missteps.  I hope they always appreciate the gift they have in each other and the ability to come home, no matter what else the world is offering.  

Child of mine
Come as you grow
In youth you will learn the secret places
The cave behind the waterfall
The arms of the oak that hold you high
The stars so near on a desert ledge
The important places
And as with age you choose your own way among the many faces of a busy world
May you always remember the path that leads you back
Back to the important places

(Dad to Forest, 1986 – Forest Woodward)