We arrived home to Houston on the one year anniversary of Evan’s rafting accident. We didn’t plan it that way, but we all agree that somehow it’s most fitting.

Today is the one year anniversary of the day we received the devastating text message from Doug. He had flown to Guatemala where the search continued for Evan. He texted from the airport, “We just got word. They found him and he didn’t make it.”

I don’t need to go back and relive that first all encompassing anguish. I’ve been all cried out so many times this past year. I’m surprised by the peace I feel today; the peace of coming home.

Don’t get me wrong. Tears still come, but since our arrival in Houston it feels like the weight of grief has shifted and I’m able to look to the future with more tangible hope.

As I type, I hear Doug’s hammer and crowbar destroying walls to make way for an additional bathroom.Our temporary upstairs sleeping and morning coffee/prayer space is clean and functional but not yet beautiful. Most of our belongings are packed in boxes and on their way to storage.

No, it’s not a beautifully decorated space making me feel at home. It’s all my family members with their unique personalities and names. It feels so good and right to be here with each of them. It’s knowing that Chris and Xhiv will join us in our home too, in a little while.

It’s also the warm welcome we experienced from each and every grandchild. They truly want us here. We’re eating meals and praying Compline (night prayer) together.

We really are home again.

See, I am doing something new!

Now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?

Isaiah 43:19a