After a day on the road (hence no blog post yesterday), we have arrived in paradise. This week’s paradise is the back yard of some of our strategically placed relatives. Their back yard ends where the lake starts. The lake is where their pontoon boat is docked. The pontoon boat is where Hiram did his devotions this morning. With a slightly less adventurous nature, I did my devotions on the sun porch. The sun porch ends where the back yard begins, the back yard that ends where the water begins. You get the picture.
Paradise.
We’re staying in paradise for a few days while we help the daughter and son-in-law move into their new Ohio digs. They’ve been staying in paradise all week, while the son-in-law attends graduate school orientation, the daughter job hunts, and the two of them do the bank thing, the driver’s license thing, and all the other stuff associated with moving. It’s been a pretty stressful week, but you know where they’ve been sleeping at night?
Paradise.
Now, I know some people consider bunking with relatives a dicey proposition. But for us, with a large extended family on both sides, its a godsend. We get to see paradise in a variety of shapes and sizes. Beside lakes in Ohio, Iowa, and Minnesota. In the mountains of Idaho and Alaska. Near the Black Hills of South Dakota. You name your paradise, we can find it. We love each visit with relatives in their far-flung paradises, but at the end of each trip, when we drive down our bumpy gravel road to the old farmhouse on the hill, surrounded by corn and hay fields, do you know where it feels like we’re going?
To paradise, of course.
