The house I grew up in in Little Rock sits on a big hill. There is one street that bi-sects the hill, and houses are built on either side overlooking a valley or the Arkansas River. My parent's house is on the valley side. Behind the house are woods where numerous forts were constructed during my childhood years. In the front and side yards are shrubs and trees, and the front walk is lined with big bushes. I love my parent's house. Maybe I love it because it is the only house I lived in before I got married? Maybe I love it because I walk in and instantly feel like a child at home? Maybe I love it because that house has grown with us. We lived there before my mom was sick, we lived there when she was, and now my family lives there without her. The house holds memories from all of it. George, Eleanor and I have always lived in our own same rooms from the time we were home from the hospital. I remember painting my room from white to blue to yellow over the years. George colored o...
"A man may plot out his course, but it is the LORD who directs his steps." Proverbs 16:9