Going Back Home

 “The Home Place”

The house is gone. The porch where cousins giggled and played, the kitchen where grandmother stirred love into every pot, the yard that once bloomed with Easter eggs and barefoot summers—all of it, long since reclaimed by time.

And yet, it remains.

The Home Place lives in the hush of memory, in the scent of biscuits you still try to recreate, in the way sunlight hits a pond and makes you pause. It’s stitched into your soul like a well-worn quilt—faded, but never forgotten.

Some places don’t need walls to hold their meaning. They exist in the gatherings, the laughter, the prayers whispered in quiet corners. They are sanctuaries of the heart.

What place shaped you, even after it disappeared? What memories do you carry like heirlooms?

God of roots and remembrance, Thank You for the homes that built us— even when they no longer stand. Let the echoes of love and legacy guide us as we build new places of belonging.

WCD-2025

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