Everyone is home for the holiday. The energy changes with the full house. Their mother waited eagerly, standing on the sidewalk waiting the last ten minutes out in the cold. The image of the Prodigal son was easily in view, but without the squandering of any inheritance. The dogs were full of licks.

Empty nest now. College has called the "boys". The dogs don't look for them after three months, but we do. I am thinking about the guitar and performance with the songs that I find myself humming--gentle songs of faith and moments of light.

"Never would have believed it til I felt it in my own heart

in the deepest part the healing came

And I cannot make it

And I cannot fake it

And I can't afford it

But it's mine"