"Why can’t we get all the people together in the world that we really like and then just stay together? I guess that wouldn’t work. Someone would leave. Someone always leaves. Then we would have to say good-bye. I hate good-byes. I know what I need. I need more hellos." ~Charles M. Schulz

I grew up in a fairly small town.  I was blessed to have my extended family close by.  Granny and PawPaw lived a short 10-minute drive away.  It was easy and common to stop by their house anytime we were out and about.  Some of my most treasured memories of my Granny were the days I stopped by to visit with her as a young adult living on my own a few miles from her house.  I loved being able to pop in at Granny's house whenever I wanted.  Additionally, in my early life, Uncle James and Aunt Sallye lived within a short bicycle ride of our house. Uncle Bill and Aunt Billye also lived in the same town.  I have wonderful memories of ordinary days spent at their houses.  I had other aunts and uncles, but I never developed close relationships with any of them.  I tend to think a big part of that was distance.

As I think now about my own family, I was curious about how society has changed in the past generation.  I googled it and was surprised at what I found.  A study published in 2008 determined that the typical American lives only 18 miles from his or her mother.  As I continued to read, I learned that those who live farthest away from mom are those who are more highly educated.  So I guess Jeff and I should not have spent all of that money on those university degrees for our children!  Just kidding.  But my reality is that Sarah, Ryan and Lydia live 612 miles away, and Caleb lives 129 miles from us.  Becca and Jeff - who have been a close 65 miles away will be moving next week -- 448 miles from home.  And from Sarah's home to Becca's new location will be a whopping 995 miles.  At least we are in the middle - they can meet up here!

Where our children are concerned, Jeff and I have always taken the view that we were raising them to leave.  Maybe not in the 600+ mile way, but to make their own lives separate from us.  We have prayed for them to have their own faith, and to be a light in their own corners of the world.  They are doing just that, and we couldn't be more proud of them.  The two who are married have truly followed God's command to "leave and cleave," and I'm very proud of that as well.  They both have godly men who are leading their new homes and providing well for our girls, and we are thankful.

Unlike the generation I grew up in, we are blessed with technology that helps to keep us close.  I love the ability to FaceTime - my Friday morning FaceTime dates with Sarah and Lydia are priceless to me.  And the bluetooth capability in our vehicles is priceless as well - most of my phone visits with Caleb occur while he is on the road.  We are also blessed with the ability to span the miles between us in a relatively short time -- I can get to Nashville on a two-hour flight, or a nine-hour drive.  I know other families who are separated by much greater distances.

So next week when we load that truck and travel with Becca and Jeff to their new home in Midland,  I will try to remember all of that, and not dwell on the fact that we live outside of the "typical American" statistic.  I'll be happy for them and excited for this new phase of their journey together.  I'll come home and see the wood burning gift that Caleb made for me hanging on our kitchen wall, and I'll be reminded and thankful for the deep roots that keep us close.  Because after all - my children could all live within that statistical 18-mile radius and not have the close-knit bond that we enjoy in our family.  That would be much worse. And I'm already looking forward to this Friday's FaceTime call, the daily text messages, the on-the-road phone calls, and especially the next time all of my precious ones can gather under the same roof.  We are truly blessed.

"Man is a dog's idea of what God should be." ~Holbrook Jackson

For Caleb's 17th birthday, we gave him a puppy.  Jessie is now seven years old, weighs 80 pounds, and is no longer Caleb's dog.  As parents, we obviously were not thinking ahead when we gave that 17th birthday gift -- Caleb soon went off to college, and then began his adult life and career in Irving.  Apartment living is not conducive to an 80-pound Belgian Shepherd/Coonhound mix!

  So, Jessie has been content to live life in the Stewart back yard for the past seven years.  She's grown up here, sleeping in her heated dog house in colder months, and on the deck when it's warm.  She's passed her time chasing squirrels, killing moles, and scaring off birds.  She loves to swim in the pool in the summer, often jumping in and putting in a few laps all on her own when no one else is out there.  And her favorite past-time has been bringing us her "frisbee" (which is really the lid off an old chlorine container) to throw so she can retrieve it.  She's been on frequent walks around the neighborhood, and a few weeks ago she killed a copperhead that was on our deck.  (Jeff was about to kill it when she grabbed it in her mouth and shook it violently until it broke in half!)  All in all, she's lived a happy and fun life here.  This is the only home she's ever known... until now.

We are in the process of selling our house/purchasing a new one.  Knowing that it would not be the best scenario to have an 80-pound dog greeting prospective buyers, we asked some friends to keep Jessie for us while we are showing the house.  They agreed, and Jeff took her over to their house about a mile away one Saturday morning a few weeks back.  She looked to be in doggy heaven in their vast backyard!  Our friends told us that they might have a couple of weak areas in their fence, but they thought, for the most part, she would be contained.  She seemed to be acclimating well to her new surrounding and warming up nicely to her new humans.  Or so we thought...

Early on Wednesday morning after relocating Jessie, I went outside to pull the trash container up to the street and was startled as I heard a large animal galloping toward me.  I turned around to be greeted by a very happy and excited Jessie!  She jumped all over me, licking me, as if to say, "I'm back! I know how much you missed me!  Aren't you glad I'm home?!"  She then ran to the back yard gate and looked at me like, "Well...aren't you going to let me in?"

She hadn't been that far away, but we still marveled at how she found her way home since she was taken to our friends' house by car.  She's never liked fireworks, and would usually take refuge from them under our deck -- my guess is that on Tuesday evening - the 4th of July - when the fireworks started, she got scared and decided she needed to get HOME!  So she did!

Home.  I read that dogs can use their amazing sense of smell to find their way home from great distances.  Dogs also bond with their owners, and especially in Jessie's case, when one home and one family is all they've ever known.  Jessie's strong desire to get home led her to do whatever it took to make it happen, even scraping up her snout and gouging her cheek in the process.  She was willing to do whatever it took to get home and back to her people.

I was thinking about this as it relates to my spiritual life.  Do I have that same kind of desire when it comes to my efforts to get home to heaven?  Do I desire above all else to be with God?  In the short-term, do I long to spend time with God in prayer and study of His word, and are His people, my people?  What about in the process of the journey through life, do I feel uncomfortable when I venture out of the presence and influence of God's people into unknown and worldly environments?  Do I do whatever it takes to get back home?

We've tried again with Jessie.  We took her to another friend who lives a lot farther away.  He has several other dogs, a lot of land, and even some horses for Jessie's amusement.  She seems to be adjusting well there, and I'm sure she's happy.  But I would venture to guess that given the opportunity, she would try again to find her way home.

I hope I always have that same sense of "belonging" when it comes to my relationship with my Master.  And I'm thankful for the things God places in our lives - like Jessie - to remind us of how strong that desire should always be.