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  • Writer's pictureMelinda Eye Cooper

My Father's House

Life has changed since the simple days of childhood. I’m number seven of ten children born to my parents, Travis and Rachel.

I grew up in a little house Dad built an addition onto and we shared bedrooms. I didn’t have my own room until I was well into my teens. I’ve heard that love grows best in small houses and I believe it’s true. There was a lot of love in our little home.

Countless times, Dad grabbed his guitar and started singing silly old songs or tear-jerkers with all of us kids sitting around him as his captive audience. We learned the words to many songs. Most of us were singing harmony at very young ages.

Mom loved to cook, read and crochet. She was a master bedtime story-teller. I learned a few things from her, too.

Somehow, I turned fifty years old earlier this year. It sure did creep up on me. I can hardly believe Dad is now eighty and Mom is seventy-nine. Where has the time gone?

My husband and I moved to Tennessee in 1992 and Dad still hopes I’ll move back home to Missouri. I don’t assume ­– he brings it up nearly every time I visit.

“So, are you planning on making your home in Tennessee or do you think you might come back to Missouri?”

Now, his memory is pretty bad and it’s difficult to hear him ask me these questions. Partly, because Tennessee has been my home for about twenty-five years. But also, because I wish it was that easy. There are jobs to think of and our children were raised here so this is their home, too.

The last time I visited he said, “You know we’ll do whatever we have to do to help you get back home. We always have a place for you. Whatever it takes, we’ll help you get home.” Then, right before I left, he reminded me again, “Don’t forget what I said.”

I held back tears as I sat in my car ready to leave my parent’s home. Dad stood in the garage waving goodbye as he’d done a hundred times before and I could barely handle it.

How do I get back to my childhood and sit around singing songs in the living room again as he plays the guitar?

His generous words offering a place for me at home reminded me of our heavenly Father and the place He has prepared for His children. A place where we never have to say goodbye and there won’t be tears of sorrow but only tears of joy.

I’m so thankful that when this life is over, we will truly be home.

My Father’s house has many rooms; if that were not so, would I have told you that I am going there to prepare a place for you? John 14:2 NIV

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