Homeward Bound -- but not quite yet

Homeward Bound
Lyrics by Marta Keen Thompson



In the quiet misty morning
When the moon has gone to bed,
When the sparrows stop their singing
And the sky is clear and red,


When the summer's ceased its gleaming
When the corn is past its prime,
When adventure's lost its meaning -
I'll be homeward bound in time


Bind me not to the pasture
Chain me not to the plow
Set me free to find my calling
And I'll return to you somehow


If you find it's me you're missing
If you're hoping I'll return,
To your thoughts I'll soon be listening,
And in the road I'll stop and turn


Then the wind will set me racing
As my journey nears its end
And the path I'll be retracing
When I'm homeward bound again


Bind me not to the pasture
Chain me not to the plow
Set me free to find my calling
And I'll return to you somehow


(softly)
In the quiet misty morning
When the moon has gone to bed,
When the sparrows stop their singing
I'll be homeward bound again.

There are times in life when a person just needs to wander for a while. To live and see where the ebbs and flows; currents and eddies take them. Freedom to explore, learn, and make mistakes is an integral part of becoming someone amazing. Particularly because there will always be someone walking just within reach to help out when things don't go so well. Someone who knew when you didn't know yourself. Someone who knows who you might become.

As choices are made and paths are taken, things fall into place and life becomes more solid with fewer chances for deviation. As long as each new breath brings us one step closer to Home, then all is still well.

Because He will welcome us all Home again some day when the moon as gone to bed and the sparrows stop their singing. As long as the wandering brings  us closer to Him. As long as we call on His name when it feels as though the eddies will keep us forever away from the shore or the currents take us to places we cannot know. As long as we can remember His face when we see it again.

But, until then, the corn is green and the summer is not near prime. The wind still has me racing and my day has not yet run low on time.