Could it be 'home', that place that fits us like a glove, where we'd rather be than anywhere else on earth, once you go past about 5 days. Could the great room hold our Christmas tree, covered with ornaments from years gone by, with big meals served around the table that overlooks the lake. Could it be a place to sit on a stool, pulled up to the kitchen counter, for long talks on the phone to either of our daughters or son. Would there be summer memories made, of grandkids jumping into the lake, or swishing down the slide, or being pulled behind the boat, or standing at the edge of the dock while Papa shows them how to cast their line.

Could the back yard grow big red climbing roses, and peonies that will last longer than I will? Will we get to know the neighbors, chat from deck to deck, and lend eggs and sugar for baking that's already underway before you realize you're out of ingredients for a cake you started to bake because company's coming.

Could it feel comforting to pull up in the driveway, unload groceries through the garage, or sit down to a football game over chili and cornbread, or mexican dinners with lots of guacamole? Could grandbabies be bathed in the tub, and tucked into the twin beds their Papa grew up with, and old barbies with nappy hair, from years past would be dressed and undressed, and matchbox cars could be driven over the carpet? Would fires be built in the firepit outside, that's not there yet, but would be? Would evenings be spent with a glass of wine, or a cup of cocoa watching the Texas sun go down over the lake?

Will we have family come visit us here to enjoy the lake together? Will my father get to come visit and play golf with me? Will my mother or sister come for a stay, and we'll sit on the deck, sipping hot coffee, having nice, long chats?

Will we mow grass, and string christmas lights and pop popcorn, and read books, and enjoy big thunderstorms, and feed ducks, and spend years there enjoying life, and most of all it could be a place to return to after we've been away, and there would be this overwhelming sense of comfort? I don't know. But God does. He already knows whether we'll ramble around this house, or will it be another. That's good enough for now.