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I’ve tried various homegroups before, these last couple of years. Never been the right fit. But I’m back at Calvary now, and it was time to get involved in a homegroup. I looked at the list the foyer a few weeks back. Nope. Nope. Nope. And… maybe? The leader is the missions pastor, and his wife has run the games at VBS for at least ten years running. I know all their kids too, and they’re all much younger than me, which is perfect. I knew I didn’t want a group of “singles.” Those are just drama waiting to happen. Everyone’s got an agenda in groups like that. I wanted a group that felt like “family,” where I could be one of the kids.

And you know what? That’s exactly what it felt like.

I’d never been out to their house before. I just knew it was out in that area of Olympia that is all old forests and tall sword ferns. The place smelled of cedars, and the house felt like home as soon as I stepped inside.

I was immediately greeted with: “Hey Oreo!” from one of the kids. (Long story. I’ve had several nicknames over the years. In fact, one of my kids at work currently calls me “Arrow,” because he can’t say my name).

I laughed. “I still need to find a nickname for you,” I told the middle schooler. He’s hilarious, and an excellent banterer fully worthy of the title of “Expert.” We insulted each other back and forth, and we worked on the pancakes for the dinner that evening, frying them up on the griddle. His nickname among his family is “Moose,” because it’s a take-off on his own name.

Both him and his sister remembered from back when I used to help out with the homeschool group, when I was nineteen or so. He remembered how I was always annoying them singing “Raindrops on roses, and whiskers on kittens.” He remembered that I was always reading to them, and that it was a fun time.

Soon, the other families started arriving. I soon got acquainted with the kids (I’d never met the families before). The kids sat up on the stools on the bar, watching me fry up the pancakes. Moose was convinced I was doing it all wrong, and kept trying to steal the spatula from me. I made a lot of little pancakes as well, that I called “Fairy Cakes.” The kids loved them, and said they tasted delicious.

The evening was filled with God’s Word, good food, and good times.

Moments like this, I know I have found “family” again. After all these years, being off at WWU, coming back home… I have finally “come home.” My God is good to me.