Bong, bong, bong, Visiting hours are over. It is time for visitors to leave.
Many moons ago I took a trip to Churchill, Manitoba. My sister said she had an idea. "Why don't I send you a letter in care of General Delivery so you'll have some mail when you get there?" So, with pencil poised over her note book she asked, "What's your name?"
You see I didn't get this way without a lot of help.
Another time she traveled to a rural town in Kentucky. I got her postcard saying, "This would be a wonderful place to live, but I wouldn't want to visit it."
Bob Hope took a trip around the world. Upon returning, he said, "It's a great place to visit, but I wouldn't want to live here." That sums it up for me, though sometimes my visit hasn't been too great.
An old preacher at my church gave his last sermon before retiring. It was entitled "A Citizen of Heaven". I had a tape of it. What a wonderful way to say it. We live here, but this is not our home.
Guess I'm getting homesick for a home I've never even seen, except by faith.
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