Our oldest came home from college for a short visit yesterday afternoon to spend some time celebrating fall and all of its goodness with us.  She wound up spending the night and driving back for class this morning.

There is a feeling I get in the middle of the night when all of my people are here.  Safe and sound and tucked away–all of them.  That’s a powerful good feeling, especially since it’s not a common occurrence so much anymore.

As my girl pulled out in the same little car I asked for angels to watch over my Mama driving, I reminded her to call me when she got back to campus.  Knowing that she’d be in class almost as soon as she got there, I didn’t want to have to worry if she forgot and was in class or if something had actually happened to delay her.

In her true typical “shorthand,” Aub texted me about forty minutes later.



Again, here.

I love that word.

It’s a word of comfort.  It means that folks are safe.  Where they should be.  And that means so much, especially considering how things are playing out all around us right now.

The other day I got a message from a sweet friend–“Let me know if you need anything.  I’m here if you need me.”


The gift of presence–of her being here–oh me.  Yes, please.  A priceless gift to be treasured indeed.

Tonight I’m thankful for safe journeys for my Aub and for the one word message that lets me breathe again, giving thanks with a peace-filled heart:  Here.  I’m thankful for the special occasions that find us all here under the same roof.  And I give thanks for the ones in my life who offer me their love, their shoulder, their presence–and make themselves “here,” wherever that may be.

Wishing you all safe journeys and someone whose shoulder never tires of being leaned on a bit.

Love to all.

4 thoughts on “Here”

  1. Very jealous that your daughter can come home from university for a weekend. Mine is clear across the country, loving her independent life far away in a different time zone. And yet, now and then I can hear in her voice her need to be home, even if only for a night. And of course, if she would listen close enough, she would hear it in mine more often! Enjoy.

    1. Thank you for reminding me how fortunate I am, Heidi. You are right. I am sorry you are missing your daughter. Crazy thing is, I miss mine too–doesn’t matter if it’s been three days or two weeks. I hope you get to see and visit with her soon. Hugs!

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