One of my favorite pastimes as a boy was walking the creek behind our home. Those walks were high adventure for me: rocks to skip, birds to watch, dams to build, animal tracks to follow. And if I made it to the mouth of the creek, my dog and I would sit and share lunch while we watched the biplanes land across the lake.

We’d linger as long as we could, but only so long, for my father wanted me home before sunset. The shadows grew long and the hollows got dark fast in the woods. I’d be wishing along the way that I was already home.

Our house sat on a hill behind some trees, but the light was always on until all the family was in. Often my father would be sitting on the back porch, reading the paper, waiting for me. “How did it go?” he would ask. “Pretty good,” I’d say. “But it sure is good to be home.”

Those memories of walking that creek make me think of another journey—the one I’m making now. It isn’t always easy, but I know at the end of it there’s a caring Father and my eternal home. I can hardly wait to get there.

I’m expected there. The light is on and my heavenly Father is waiting for me. I suppose He’ll ask, just like my father used to, “How did it go?” “Pretty good,” I’ll say. “But it sure is good to be Home.”  — David H. Roper