Home thoughts from a father's journal

Once I telephoned home (the East Coast of the United States) from the edge of the Indian Ocean. I think there are few places in the world farther from my home. But the telephone call that brought those warm voices into my ears was a very mixed blessing—everybody sounded so near and yet they weren't near at all. When I hung up, I was there in just another empty hotel room. We were still far apart.

Through the years the scene was often repeated. Sometimes there were negative factors worse than distance to cope with. Some work assignments were perilous. Some, because I had no specific idea what the work would demand of me or lead to, seemed mysterious to my wife and youngsters left behind. They had to do the best they could to sort it all out.

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The house of the Lord
October 3, 1988
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