It's Saturday evening.  This is the time of the week our family winds down and begins visiting.  All are tired, but glad for our "weekend"...church tomorrow and this week, a day at home to finish all those last minute projects and wrap gifts.  I'm sure there will be a game or two of Catan and Rook awaiting us too, as well as a 1000 piece puzzle of the Nativity waiting for a few more pieces to be added.

     It's funny how this time of the year makes me long for New England more than any other time of the year.  It's not that I'm not happy here, I am.  But there's something so very special about driving through the winding, hilly country lanes and seeing white candles glowing in every window, their light peeping through the branches of huge trees surrounding the old houses...salt boxes, colonials, etc.  These houses, surrounded by their old stone walls bring a feeling of peace and continuity, knowing that hundreds of year ago, there were also candles in the window, real ones, to guide and welcome the latecomer home.  The brooks, tumbling over their rocky bed, gurgling, even under the ice, that gurgled for other children all those years before.  As a child, I often wondered how many other children sat on the bank where I rested, building, fishing, or just letting their thoughts drift as mine so often did.

     We all have these memories and feelings, just from different places...it's nice to visit with them now and then, before coming back to where we are now, hopefully more at peace and ready to move on, and enjoy where the Lord has us now.  It's good to see where He's led and know that the best is yet to come.