My People

We walk towards the large group congregated under the picnic shelter and scattered on lawn chairs around it. Ben's hand is in mine and Sam's in Terry's. It's our church's annual outdoor service at Hidden Acres Camp. We get within sight of the crowd and I can feel a small tugging, becoming more insistent with each passing moment, until he finally uses his other hand to pry his little fingers from mine. I see what he sees. It's Abby and Sandy and Grandma at the top of the small hill and he is itching to run. I let go and within moments he is flying into a pair of outstretched arms, Sam right behind him. My heart bursts.

Today, as I continue my quest to re-read my old journals, I read of the days, early in my relationship with Terry, when I met, one by one, the many people congregated under that shelter. I remember feeling overwhelmed that I would never know them, that I would never remember all their names and that I would never piece together the connections they all have to one another. I wondered if I'd ever become more than acquaintances with any of them, if they'd ever become "mine." I smile at that now.

Yesterday, in between keeping an eye on this toddler or that one, I chatted here and there with so many. I did not look to Terry to fill in the blanks and did not need him standing beside me for comfort; we are years past that now. These people are "mine" as much as "his". I know them now. They are friends that fill a place in my life that I can hardly believe stood empty waiting for me to meet them. God created this life for me and I'd never have dreamed when I first met Terry that I would be living in this place or that I would have my feet so deeply entrenched here that I would not move from it. This is my home and these are my people.