Tears well up and spill over unexpectedly as I lie on the couch resting from an afternoon of working on making this Savannah house our home. My mind was skating along recent memories and landed on Christmas day when our children gave us a portable fire pit--to take the place of the fire pit they built for us on our land in Cedarville. That's what did it, and I am amazed at the grief, latent under the surface, that from time to time reaches up to grab my throat.  And then I must walk down that path again, remembering the comfort and warmth that I felt in that place, the feeling of being truly "at home." It was a unique experience, one that I may not ever have again. That piece of real estate was so much more than a property. I find comfort in the knowledge that God clearly revealed to me that we would have that place for just a season, though that knowledge does little to stem the flow of tears when the grief rushes in. However, that knowledge reinforces the belief that God was present in it all, providing for that time a place that cushioned us from the evil forces around us. And I find myself rehearsing again the good things that came from our time in Ohio--none of it was wasted--but I grieve at the reality of a Christian world that forces people to become "other," a world that produces loss like ours. Lord have mercy upon us, your people, and forgive us for the blight of disunity, pride, and self-aggrandizement.