At least, that is the way most of us describe coming back to the place we grew up, the area we explored during our younger, more exploratory days. I point out different things to my wife, telling her what happened here, who I met there, or why that thing is new and therefore inherently interesting. She politely smiles, nods, and says "that's cool" a few times. I wax eloquent on the comparisons between my old "home" and my new "home". I laugh with my wife at the way everything here, especially at Grandma's house, is made for those 5'7" and under. We are both much taller.
But home isn't as much about the place, as it is about the people. It is about visiting and playing an impromptu house show for mom and sister and aunts and uncles, playing everything from Christmas songs to praise songs, even throwing in songs I wrote and a Pink Floyd song I enjoy covering (for Uncle Bobby, and you can hear it below from a few months ago on YouTube). All of these on my grandpa's old Jasmine guitar.
It is about visiting old friends, who all seem to be married with new, cute babies. Thank you, Daniel and Monica (Her blog is pretty legit), for standing strong with us (probably the only cousins we'd choose to be friends with even if not related)! It is about being frustrated with my baby sister and her first choices as an adult seeming kinda... well... childish (I never, ever was like that... ever... stop laughing). It is about my mom always plugging away, never having an ideal situation, and yet always thriving more than you could ever imagine. I am crazy proud of her.
It is about my friend Steve and his South Texas Christianity, and his complete aversion to dancing and "secular" music. Nuance is sometimes lost on him, but what he lacks in nuance he makes up for with an unmatched zeal for seeing lives changed and souls saved by Christ. That man is bringing a whole lot of people to the party with him when the saints go marching in.
It is a time when there is so much tumult in my own personal life and my professional life, when only my church and my wife seem to be steadfast (and I am thankful for them both). It is a time where every turn brings a new reflection; a new consideration of where I was, where I am, and where I will be. With each turn, I remember where God was faithful, and where he brought me closer to who I was meant to be, out of the mess of who I was. With each day here, I realize that God will be God wherever I am, whatever I am doing.
I am a natural worrier. God is making it really hard to worry. Bobby McFerrin would be proud. This return home is just what I needed. Thanks, Corpus Christi (and Mathis, and Kingsville, and Beeville), for being who you are and reminding me to...