Coming Home from One Side to the Other

By Brenda Black

Show me vivid green pastures dotted with black cattle. Show me white pines and giant oaks stately guarding Ozark hills. Show me rivers glistening and rambling. Show me flooded rice fields dancing on flat bottom land. From west to east, the scenery changes in the Show Me state, offering diversity that is broad and beautiful, one side to the other.

I took the ten-hour round trip tour a couple of weekends ago from Clinton to Sikeston, and home again. The hubs and I criss-crossed 12 counties, marveling at their differences. Though Mark Twain hailed from the opposite corner of the state, his namesake forest across the south central region offered scenic tranquility for part of the journey. The deep, dark, seemingly endless rows of trees surely would have inspired the story teller with as many back wood mysteries as the Mighty Mo river provided a backdrop for the folklore he made famous. And that's the beauty of this great state. Her cultural differences, various industry and natural characteristics run wide and deep, worthy of notice.

I often ponder on such road trips about the outcome of life had I lived just a few hours one way or another from where I call home. How much would the opportunities have changed; how would my world look differently? Would I still have gone to college or met the man I married? We spot pretty homesteads along the route and ask one another from time to time, "How would you like to live there?" We dream for a bit and venture the scenario, then always come up with the same answer. 

"No, I think I'll stay where I am."

There's no place like home. Though I must admit, I am tempted to transplant a few of those gorgeous tall evergreens and borrow a cool, clear stream for personal landscaping. A sprawling ranch with board fences and pristine paddocks, absent of ragweed, looks inviting. I'd like the deep, rich soil for our pastures and garden and some of those mountainous slopes for winter sledding. But, home is home and it always feels good to come back where the roots run deep and the surroundings are familiar.

Sometimes it takes a jaunt just a few hours away to rekindle an appreciation for the place where God planted us. It's nice to see the diversity; fun to enjoy some new scenery. But in the end, when the forest faded away and the sunset came into view, west and ahead, it felt right; it felt good. With some unseen, emotional magnetic force, home keeps pulling us back to the life and the folks we love and the history we've created.

From one side to the other, our state is spectacular and it's people memorable. Still, from one side to the other, home is preferable, and I'm glad each time I get there.

On a Sneeze and a Prayer

By Brenda Black

My head was splitting from the moment my feet hit the floor. Headaches and travel do not marry well and the itinerary didn't include time for divorce. My travel companion, for better or worse and a good thousand miles was to be an excruciatingly bad migraine.

Two hours on the road and the first leg of the journey merged into a baggage check then getting the once-over from a TSA agent who obviously graduated from a training class on face recognition or possibly a staring contest. No bomb in the shoes. No liquid in the bag, no wire under the bra, but I still had the headache. Maybe an overpriced cold turkey sandwich and liquid gold in the form of bottled water would ease the pain before take off. I bid my hubby adieu and assured him I'd be fine, even though I wanted to cry.

I found a place near the window with my gate in sight and a clear view of the luggage ramp. At first I was thrilled to see my bags the first up the conveyor belt, but struggled to interpret the conversation and gestures as each employee paid special attention to my two parcels. By the time I boarded behind wheel chairs, babies, business class and two rounds of ticket holders, the plane was nearly full and available seats scattered and sparse. In spite of the headache, I entered the plane with a smile to match the 

Southwest greeting that welcomed me aboard. Then the long, agonizing walk down the aisle ensued. It's a game of looking for the best prospect. Who looks inviting and who looks like they don't want you near them? I found a kind looking couple in the first third of the plane. He had long legs and preferred the aisle seat, she sat near him selecting the middle. That left the window -- my favorite spot. Only the awkward crawl across two strangers to get there and I could rest.

Our conversation was brief and cordial, a generic ice breaker at best. Half way across the wide horizon, a single sneeze broke the lingering silence. And that kind blonde to my right offered a sincere "Bless you."

It was enough to give me hope. All I needed was courage to ask for something more. My heart pounded with equal intensity to the throbbing in my head. I questioned what God was pressing me to do and nearly convinced myself to not risk it. But He wouldn't leave me alone, so I finally ventured: "May I ask you a personal question? When you blessed me earlier, was that evidence of your belief in prayer and in the power of Jesus Christ?" When she answered with a quick and certain "Yes,"I dared the next request: "Would you please pray for me. My head is splitting and it's getting worse."

Two strangers sat elbow to elbow and silently we joined hearts and sent thoughts heavenward. Knowing that she was covering me, I prayed for whatever measure of faith she had that it be increased. I asked the Lord to bless her and His touch on me would do a greater work in her. I honestly felt that was more important than my own relief! The pain diminished and a sneeze and a prayer later, I knew the Lord was up to something special -- He is always at work! I'm thankful my discomfort compelled me to reach out and I believe if the Lord helped me, He surely touched her as well.

For the remainder of the trip, we talked off and on and found many things in common. By the time hundreds emptied the plane, among them left my new sister in Christ.

Then I figured out why so much conversation surrounded my suitcases. I was the sole passenger remaining aboard for the next destination and those bags were commissioned to a special place in the belly of the plane.

I was alone only a matter of minutes until the plane filled again. This time I watched as one by one they loaded, and among the final ticket holders, God delivered another delightful Christian lady. We praised God for the next short 45 minute journey. I never sneezed but she still blessed me and I her when we parted company!

I met two living for the One while way up and away in the sky. A big headache and a little "achoo" are no match for blessing and a prayer and the body of Christ!

Thinkin' 'Bout Home

By Brenda Black

There is a wandering soul in many of us that perpetuates discontent. The monotony of familiar surroundings causes longing for fantasy in far-away places, yet foreign locations and strange faces make us pine for the comfort of home. Thousands of travelers are stranded this week, trapped in airports or along closed inner state highways. I wonder if they are curled up on hard airport benches or hunkered down in semi truck cabs and dreaming like Dorothy of the Wizard of Oz: “There's no place like home, there's no place like home.”

For me --I arrived at my destination safely, but I am nonetheless dreaming about home. As heavy as the cold, damp air was the heavy feeling in my heart when I left home a day ahead of the storm and embarked on my cross-country flight. I sat alone and waited for my delayed plane to arrive and hoped none of the other passengers sitting at a distance would notice the big crocodile tears pooling in my eyes.

I wasn't afraid of flying in the weather. Wasn't worried about losing my luggage. I didn't fret over the journey much at all. Well maybe a little later, when we chopped our way through clouds that looked like cotton candy but punched the plane like choppy waves on a rolling sea. I prayed through that stratus-slicing portion of the ascent then relaxed when we cruised through blue, sunny skies above the tumult of white below. But before take-off, my foreboding was more attributed to leaving my husband alone at home to fend for himself in the forthcoming blizzard.

Sure he's a big boy, but what if...and a dozen scenarios littered my mind. We didn't spend much time together that morning and our good-bye was rushed. I worked all morning to rebook the last available flight leaving town ahead of the front. We didn't get to linger, talk or pray as we had my last trip away. As I headed west, he would get in a car and drive north on potentially icy streets and face the arctic blast beating it's away across his path. And that bothered me.

You see, I would have rather crawled into that car and braved the trip with him than to go it alone to fairer skies without him. I would rather be home in sub-zero weather with a storm so fierce that it blows the curtains on the inside of the house than to be far away, alone and safe. Because that's home and my family and neighborhood friends and those are my cows and horses and dog and cat that I care about more than my own comfort or safety.

So while I am sitting in warmth and quiet in the Mile High City of Denver, all be it bitter cold beyond this 20th floor hotel window, I am sheltered and I am comfortable, but I am thinking about home. Home is family and memories. It is where I'm known and mostly loved, sometimes tolerated and always forgiven. Home is my heart and my haven even if it lies in the eye of a blizzard.

As much as this distance during dire circumstances makes me long for home and hearth, there's another home that I yearn for even more -- heaven -- where I won't be alone.

After seeing how God could lift me from storm to sunshine, carry me out of harm's way and land me safely where He's called me to be this week, I have no doubt that the home I'll one day see will be perfect! And there I'll be with family and friends safe and sound and no distance between us or blizzards to harm us! I'll have no worries, sense no fear, cry no tears. That sounds like home to me. Like where I want to be.

“For we know that if the earthly tent we live in is destroyed, we have a building from God, an eternal house in heaven, not built by human hands. Meanwhile we groan, longing to be clothed instead with our heavenly dwelling, because when we are clothed, we will not be found naked. For while we are in this tent, we groan and are burdened, because we do not wish to be unclothed but to be clothed instead with our heavenly dwelling, so that what is mortal may be swallowed up by life. Now the one who has fashioned us for this very purpose is God, who has given us the Spirit as a deposit, guaranteeing what is to come.

“Therefore we are always confident and know that as long as we are at home in the body we are away from the Lord. For we live by faith, not by sight. We are confident, I say, and would prefer to be away from the body and at home with the Lord. So we make it our goal to please him, whether we are at home in the body or away from it.” (2 Corinthians 5:1-9)

Home. I hope just thinking about it warms your heart this cold, blustery week.