Tuesday, July 18, 2017

HOMESICK

   The days of my youth were peaceful years.  We had food, we had shelter, we had clothing.  Our parents provided the labor for all that we had, and all we had to do was dig in.
   There came a day, however, when the days of my youth came to an end.  Now I had to get out of bed every morning to go to a job, to work, to earn my way for all that I had before I could dig in.  If I chose not to get out of bed, there would be no digging in.
   Things were different now.  My whole world was changed.  The days of summer were different.  Baseball was different.  Where were the boys of summer I had known so well?  They had moved away to their own places, to work their jobs and earn their ways for all that they had before they could dig in.  For they, too, had experienced this great change that comes to all people.
   The days of my youth passed so quickly.  They were here, then they were gone.  And all of it now seems like a dream of living in another land, another country, as all I of us were suddenly swept away from everything that seemed to be so natural and normal, to living a life that seemed far from natural and far from normal.  For now the food, the shelter, and the clothing were no longer provided for us as it had been before.  No more fishing whenever we wanted to go fishing.  No more hunting when we wanted to go hunting.  No more watching cartoons on Saturday morning television.  No more sleeping in on school days with just enough time left to catch the bus down by the road.  No more coming home with food spread on the table.
   Suddenly, we were out of the womb and on our own.  Going to a job and working with adults was strange and they had some strange ways.  They drank coffee on the job.  They brought sandwiches in brown paper bags.  One kept crackers in his pocket and he wasn't sharing!
   They talked about their neighbors.  They talked about each other when the other wasn't present.  They talked about the big war in the days of their youth when they had less, when some had nothing, and how they counted pennies each day just to break even.  They talked about how far they had come from having nothing.  They talked about yesterday, few talked about today, and less talked about tomorrow.
   How quickly the years have passed away when the days of my youth seem but like a dream of living in a foreign land.  For here we are in the twenty-first century and not much has changed in the conversations of people.  They talk about yesterday, few talk about today, and less talk about tomorrow.  As long as people have some money in their pockets, a car in the driveway, and an iPhone in their hands that's all they need to get by:  with photographs to friends of their yesterday.
   Neither do people weep today about their yesterdays, their today, or even for their tomorrow.
   But that's not the way it was a long, long time ago when the children of Israel were suddenly swept away and taken captive to a foreign land with strange customs and strange gods, and their hearts changed when they remembered the days of their youth:  when all that they had from God was better than they had thought:
      "By the rivers of Babylon, there we sat down, yea, we wept, when we remembered Zion.  We hanged our harps upon the willows in the midst thereof.  For there they that carried us away captive required of us a song; and they that wasted us required of us mirth, saying, Sing us one of the songs of Zion.  How shall we sing the LORD's song in a strange land?"  (Psalm 137: 1-4)
                                                 

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