Home Safe

In recent days, I have become "gool" for the boys, as they chase each other around the house. Do you remember gool? (Don't ask me where we got that word; I'm making up the spelling!) When I was growing up, it was the non-working, decorative lamppost on our front hill that was the safe zone when playing ditch with the neighborhood kids after dinner during summer months. No one from the opposite team could tag or capture you if you were touching gool.

I am particularly the favorite hide-out for X-Man. When his big brother is close on his little heels, he barrels into my legs and sticks his head through, scared and thrilled by the chase at the same time. He loves to pretend to be a big boy and play tough, but when his bluff is called, he scrambles my way.

Instead of being somewhat annoyed by this (I'm usually trying to get something done in the middle of their game) today it made me smile. I love that both my big and little child run to me. I love that even my limbs make them feel safe -- that as long as they've got hold of some part of me, nothing bad will happen. I love that they have that comfort, that gift of physical presence every day and every hour in their lives.

Even Dear Husband has lovingly told me that I am his "home"; wherever I am is his place of comfort and rest. No matter how far he travels, or how long he's gone, when he comes back to me, he's home. We've seen it play out when we've lived near and far from our roots.

It's fascinating to think about, really, how I am home to every member of our little family, and my body housed and sheltered two of them until birth. I thank God that he has allowed me to be a safe home for so many people, big and little, and I pray that there will always be room for more love and lives!