I am a roamer. By this, I mean I have never stayed long in one place, been a rolling stone since birth. My dad was a roamer; my mom always said, “He has itchy feet. Can’t seem to find a home anywhere.” I lived in Jackson for 27 years, and in all those 9855 days I never spent one of them thinking of Jackson as home. But I was born to roam. By the time I graduated from High School, I had been in 11 different schools. I married a woman who said she wouldn’t date me but would go hiking with me, and we have been tramping around the world ever since. We are explorers, down roads with no names; trails marked only by our compass; wilderness and byways, lonely plains, windy cliffs, mountain passes and hidden meadows are all places we seem to end up. But now something has claimed our hearts, a home like no other, Fair Haven, the end of a gravel road, a cleared acre, a river, big blue sky, full moons, and warm fires has now claimed our hearts and wondering off has lost a bit of its call. We are off again, but I confess, I leave sadly. Will we find a garden and vista more sincere than we leave? No! For once in my life I have found a home, have been loaned it till we will be called home, an honest piece of earth worthy of prepping us for Paradise with God.
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