by Lynn Costello
A house is not a home until…
So it was with the house that grandpa built, the house that my son-in-law’s Mom and Dad lived in and passed away in five weeks apart this summer. The house was 7,000 square feet with a swimming pool and lots of land. It was where the whole family gathered for holidays, birthdays and hot summer evenings. Much of the family had lived in the house at one time or another. Doug’s parents moved in after his grandpa died and he, my daughter and grandsons lived with them when their house was being built and his sister and her family lived there as well when their home was being built.
Sandy had been ill and her death was expected but Don had been fine. The coroner concluded his death was caused by a broken heart. The family still gathers now and then to capture moments from the past and share their grief. Parked in the driveway are the familiar car and truck but the house sits still and silent with only memories left to fill the void.
This, however, is not the end of the story. Doug’s aunt is going to buy the house and update it in grand style. When finished, it will become her home and far into the future Doug, my daughter and my two grandsons will call it their home. After children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren, this house that grandpa built for one family has become home for many families; a place where lives play out like chapters in a book and memories are easily traced.
What does this have to do with politics? Nothing, except that America is also our “home” where we build houses, raise families and live free to enjoy the blessings of a loving God.