You can't go back....

Seriously, you can't.  I recently (yesterday) went back to the town I was born in.  It's not home.  It is really not home anymore.  Honestly, it hasn't been home in a long time (almost 22 year to be exact).  It will never be home again.  My home, and where I am from is where I currently live and will live forever, because I'm not moving away. 

The town I grew up in has changed.  A lot.  The it has changed so much I don't even recognize it a lot.  McMansions have sprung up all over the place.  It's sad.  The place I remember is a quiet, Midwestern community.  Teenagers went to the football games.  Homecoming was a week long event full of all kinds of fun activities.  There was a parade.  The kind with floats made from hay wagons, chicken wire and paper napkins.  There were marching bands from the high school and junior high schools.  There were baton twirlers.  As a child, it was magical.  On Friday night, there was a football game.  It was an important game, because this was the time of year all the graduates came home to celebrate.  Class reunions were held during this week.  And then Saturday night was the dance.  The homecoming dance.  The only thing more important than homecoming was prom.  You were either homecoming king and queen or prom king and queen.  If you were lucky, you were both. 

So here I am back in this town that used to be so magical.  Part of me is trying to hold on to that magic, and part of me is screaming to let me out.  I got to see family that I hadn't seen in a very long time (15 years).  They were all trying to do the math on how long it had been since I visited.  I was able to pinpoint it.  I remember it well. 

My family has changed, but it is still the same.  My father's wife insists on calling me by my given name.  I did not throat punch her even though I wanted to.  I did not correct her.  It's not worth it.  My baby brother kept introducing me as "my sister Cathy from Alaska".  I gave him a hard time, so he switched to "my sister Cathy from Anchorage".  I rolled my eyes.  My father has gotten old, not just older.  He's old man old.  He's still active, he still works, but he's old.  His attitude towards life hasn't changed.  I'm not sure if that is a good thing or not.  I met my niece.  She's 12.  She's amazing.  She has her own business.  She bakes cupcakes.  If you know me, you know how much that means to me.

Deuteronomy 5:16 says "Honour thy father and thy mother, as the Lord thy God hath commanded thee; that thy days may be prolonged, and that it may go well with thee, in the land which the Lord thy God giveth thee."  I look back on my visit and ask myself how I am supposed to honor these people that I don't agree with.  We live in different worlds.  We are night and day, and again, I am day.  I am a Christian, they are not.  It's hard.  I don't want to be a "Bible thumper" but I want them to come to know the Lord.  It's hard.  It's really hard.  I think I did my best to honor them.  I was polite.  I was kind.  I didn't say what was on my mind.  I didn't make a scene.  

I learned something that day.  I learned that I don't belong there.  And now, as I sit here and type this, I have so many Parables running through my mind, and my soul is at ease.  It's okay.  I'm okay.  I.  AM.  OKAY.