Going Home

Poem by Myrna Sims Ward

I’m going home to visit Mother! And where Dad lived in this life and the place that I called home till I became a wife.

Oh there’s a peace there I can’t tell you and joy and happiness where memory clings to every room, my hungry soul to bless.

My Mother anxiously awaits with pantry bulging wide and arms outstretched in open live to welcome us inside.

The kids all long to see her too; she is so good and kind. Grandma’s like this precious gem are not easy to find.

My sister and my brothers will bring their families, too. We’ll laugh a lot and talk of times and fun both and and new.

We’ll feel a bond among us that’s not line any other, because of patterns set for us for year, by Dad and Mother.

There’s healing balm and solace there where cares may rest a while, And build new strength to face again life’s living with a smile.

There’s rest from all the hustle of everyday demands. Just to sit among the “home things” made be gentle, loving hands.

The cool green of the back yard, the deep blue of the sky. The mountains all around us, the white clouds drifiting by.

The cool of canyon breezes, and the stars that shine so bright. The childhood faith I gained here, that gave my life it’s light.

The town of friendly people, who wave as we drive by. Who go to church each Sunday, to praise the Lord on high.

The visits with the folks we love, the quiet times with Mother. Familiar, precious, dear old things, these soothe me like no other.

The memories fond of Daddy, and how he made life sing. Are everywhere around me and like sweet perfume cling.

It’s not the same without him, this thing of “going home”. But he is always in my hear, no matter where I roam.

I know this house won’t always stand, or always let me stay. And home won’t always wait for me, and be there in this way.

But I know, too, the love we knew here. Now becomes a leaven for joy and love we can’t contain in the home we’ll have in heaven.