Home at Last

I suppose there's nowhere quite like HOME. I suppose that is why I love Michael Card's song "Home," which talks about, well...home. My home is (I think) rather unique. Beautiful in a sense, really. An old brick house, caressed by a Japanese maple a few months younger than I and flanked by arborvitae. Some would say the lot is small, the house dark and cramped, the inhabitants loud and melodramatic. I say the lot is cozy, the house warm and inviting, the inhabitants eloquent and loquacious. I love to walk up the short concrete path and see the signs for "Faith," "Hope," and "Charity."
I don't know how many people know about my family's miscarriages, which are one of the more painful parts of my past. We lost three babies in the first trimester - one when I was 6, two when I was 12 - and our family is still coping with some of that trauma. In my mind, those three siblings are Faith, Hope and Charity, three pretty little girls I won't meet until Heaven. Maybe that's why I love those round, inscribed plaques my mom put up years ago on our front porch.
I'm sorry, I'm wagging on and on about three little plaques! I got to see S-'s baseball game today, which was incredible. My younger brother is turning into a catcher of superior merit and I'm very proud of him. It was a close game because the pitchers on his team were rather off their game tonight. Nevertheless, the Iron Pigs managed a 8-7 victory which is, frankly, incredible. S- made a play at second, which is rare in his league.
I need to get some sleep. God bless y'all and May the Fourth has been with you.