Going Home Is a Good Thing.

Visiting family in Utah is one of our most favorite things to do.  Usually I'm a doer.  I don't like to sit around. I like to go places, see things, experience something new.  However, our trips to Utah usually involve staying at home,
Ben's parents' home,
the house he grew up in,
built by his parents as their very first home after they were married.  Doesn't that sound sweet?

Playing games is what we do. 
95% of the time. 
And it's so fun.
Most of Ben's siblings live close by. 
Somehow we all cram together in their little house, and laugh, and tease, and laugh some more.
This is love, to me. 
The tangible kind.
You can feel it.
Seriously, I know these moments will remain in the forefront of my childrens' memories.
Sometimes its the simplest things that mean the most.
The Carter's are simple, good, fun people,
who can also work harder than anyone I know.
(I think I'm the slacker of the family.)

Being there does something to me.
Something good.
"Things" don't matter to Ben's family.
"Things" don't fill our time when we're there.
It's just being together.
That's it.
And it fills me.
I'm always grounded and reminded of that when we're in Utah.
That's what I take home with me.
And I'm so grateful.
It's so easy to get caught up in other people's "things."
"Things" you don't have.
And when it comes right down to it,
"Things" carry no lasting weight.
"Things" don't define you as a person even if you think they do.
The feeling that "things" make you important isn't lasting,
because it's not true.
Truth fills, all else leaves you empty sooner or later.
My real self knows better,
but I guess I still need reminders every once in a while.
Dang it.

I hope and pray and cross my fingers that my kids marry into families that make them better . . .