I was born in Torrance, California and lived in the same house until I was 16 years old. My parents bought the home when my oldest sister Penny was 2 and stayed 32 years. In fact, Penny had Mr. Papadakis as her kindergarten teacher and when I arrived at the same school, he was still there, but working as Principal. Needless to say, my roots were deep and firmly planted.
Being the youngest of six, I often heard my parents speak of retirement. They eventually started going away for the weekend to look for places to retire to. I was quite happy when they left, because I got the house to myself. I had always been promised no move would happen until I had graduated from the same high school as all my sisters.
I took it quite hard when one Sunday, after just such a weekend, my parents said they had purchased a home in Santa Clara, Utah. Dad was packing the house and moving in two weeks. I was told I could stay with my friend, Kathy Nix, and finish out my sophomore year.
Since that first uprooting, I have moved several times. This includes seven cities and one foreign country, with several more apartment/house changes within each. But nothing ever felt like home again until…
Our small family was living in Roseville, California. We owned our own business and had just purchased our first home. But a break in the contracts came and Douglas’ brother invited him to Silverdale, Washington for a couple weeks because his business was swamped and he could use a hand. Two weeks passed and a job offer came from his brother’s firm. Doug called me and I began praying about whether this would be a wise move for us. I had had some bad experiences while visiting Washington over the last few years and didn’t feel that I could ever move this far north to “Hicksville, USA.” But the offer was good enough that it warranted at least some fervent prayer on the issue.
During this time, I decided to drive up to Washington again for a look around. Some close family friends, the Bradshaw’s, were going to Canada at the same time and we arranged to follow each other as far as Silverdale. But just outside of Woodland my car stalled, twice as a matter of fact. I was concerned about safety, so Roshaun offered to put our son Andrew in their car and I drove alone for the last three hours. Needless to say, the ride was one long constant prayer. I prayed that I wouldn’t stall while passing, or stall while right in front of a semi-truck, and other similar situations.
I knew I was close to my destination when I rounded the corner at Gorst and saw the ships at PSNS (Puget Sound Naval Shipyard). That’s where it hit me. My prayers had been answered and I began to cry uncontrollably, thus adding to the already unsafe factor of my car. The answer was not the comfort sought at that moment for safety, but a far greater answer.
It had been years since I had felt this way. I was HOME. In the real sense of the word. Not since Torrance and the familiar sights, sounds and smells, had I experienced this. The Lord was letting me know that I had arrived in the place He wanted me to be. Such a feeling of peace and comfort enveloped me. Childhood memories began to play across my mind. Feelings that there was no where on earth safer than in my father’s lap.
This experience has given me a glimpse of what it must be like to return to my Heavenly home and again sit at my Father’s feet.
Luckily the Lord didn’t expect me in live in Gorst itself, and so we settled in the Wollochet Ward and have been grateful ever since for this rich blessing of living at home.
Being the youngest of six, I often heard my parents speak of retirement. They eventually started going away for the weekend to look for places to retire to. I was quite happy when they left, because I got the house to myself. I had always been promised no move would happen until I had graduated from the same high school as all my sisters.
I took it quite hard when one Sunday, after just such a weekend, my parents said they had purchased a home in Santa Clara, Utah. Dad was packing the house and moving in two weeks. I was told I could stay with my friend, Kathy Nix, and finish out my sophomore year.
Since that first uprooting, I have moved several times. This includes seven cities and one foreign country, with several more apartment/house changes within each. But nothing ever felt like home again until…
Our small family was living in Roseville, California. We owned our own business and had just purchased our first home. But a break in the contracts came and Douglas’ brother invited him to Silverdale, Washington for a couple weeks because his business was swamped and he could use a hand. Two weeks passed and a job offer came from his brother’s firm. Doug called me and I began praying about whether this would be a wise move for us. I had had some bad experiences while visiting Washington over the last few years and didn’t feel that I could ever move this far north to “Hicksville, USA.” But the offer was good enough that it warranted at least some fervent prayer on the issue.
During this time, I decided to drive up to Washington again for a look around. Some close family friends, the Bradshaw’s, were going to Canada at the same time and we arranged to follow each other as far as Silverdale. But just outside of Woodland my car stalled, twice as a matter of fact. I was concerned about safety, so Roshaun offered to put our son Andrew in their car and I drove alone for the last three hours. Needless to say, the ride was one long constant prayer. I prayed that I wouldn’t stall while passing, or stall while right in front of a semi-truck, and other similar situations.
I knew I was close to my destination when I rounded the corner at Gorst and saw the ships at PSNS (Puget Sound Naval Shipyard). That’s where it hit me. My prayers had been answered and I began to cry uncontrollably, thus adding to the already unsafe factor of my car. The answer was not the comfort sought at that moment for safety, but a far greater answer.
It had been years since I had felt this way. I was HOME. In the real sense of the word. Not since Torrance and the familiar sights, sounds and smells, had I experienced this. The Lord was letting me know that I had arrived in the place He wanted me to be. Such a feeling of peace and comfort enveloped me. Childhood memories began to play across my mind. Feelings that there was no where on earth safer than in my father’s lap.
This experience has given me a glimpse of what it must be like to return to my Heavenly home and again sit at my Father’s feet.
Luckily the Lord didn’t expect me in live in Gorst itself, and so we settled in the Wollochet Ward and have been grateful ever since for this rich blessing of living at home.