My favorite place?
A fairy tale couldn’t paint a more beautiful picture, and a novel couldn’t create more rich a setting.
A family was born here, as if sprouted from the ground, We knew that We belonged.
But to me, this was the place where I dropped to a knee while singing a song in jest, where I injested and expelled and was almost expelled for a ridiculous golf cart mishap.
This place held deep discussions and bitter mistakes, where rain fell and snow flaked. Where chairs became sleds fit for a king, and queens dazzled and wowed the crowd at a Ball that showed us men that they qualified as the “fairest of them all.”
I have tag-teamed with Jacob of old and wrestled with God, and didn’t walk away unscathed. I slept in a pit of lions with Daniel and Delilah shaved my head. I’ve thown stones at Jesus and hurled insults too, but I’ve felt the presence of his grace nonetheless, and others here have too.
The Cross glows on the darkest of nights and wind blows from the highest of heights and my heart rages with the fiercest of mights if you cannot understand that this is not just My Favorite Place. This is my Home.
This is the place where I’ve fallen in love and broken hearts.
My greatest friends I have met on this hill, and some o.k. meals where I’ve had my fill, but do not underestimate this place until…
You have walked with God in green pastures, or a field, or even freshly mowed grass because that happens here.
No song is sung sweeter than when you hear The Holy Spirit on harmony.
You have not learned until the Teacher is before you, gesturing with his nail-scarred hands, because I’ve seen that here.
Who am I?
I did not know the answer to that question until I lived here. I did not know that was a question until I lived here.
Who am I?
I will not know the depths of that question, because I can never stop looking. Because there will come a time when I have to go.
But I can never stop calling this hill my home.