Country roads, take me home. To the place, I BELONG...
During one of our breaks today, one of my co-workers and I talked about places we've traveled to. We soon were in concurrence; travel is one of the highs of life, even better when it's cheap and there's something about home that we love and cannot run from.
Preaching to the choir, I know. BUT, for the longest time I've been wrestling with the issue of where to make "home". Every place I've lived, I've liked to some degree. BUT, in the end I've found some flaw that I cannot bring myself to live with.
The sayings are true, home is where you make it. Maybe I just need to stop being so daggone picky. Apply that 80/20 rule in relationships towards living space, perhaps?
Mahalia Jackson's last verse of "A City Called Heaven" comes to mind. Maybe this is why I've been wrestling with the idea for so long. He calls us to find it. Matthew 13.
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