Saturday, September 15, 2007
Today, I wish I could call my dad.
On my way to a funeral down in Wellsville, I had to pass through the tiny town of Belmont. This is the town where my father spent many of his growing-up years.
Belmont isn't very exciting. In fact, I doubt it's changed much in the past 40 years. But, somewhere in its streets, it holds the footprints of my father.
Until today, I have never been to this small, inconspicuous town. I have no idea what house my dad lived in or which church his father pastored. However, it held a sense of nostalgia for me. I felt that I must have memories of this place. I could almost see my father as a young man walking to school or laughing with friends.
I was in Belmont today. I wanted to call my dad and tell him that I finally saw the place where he grew up. That I can finally picture a bit of his past.
But, I can't call him. Dad's at his new Home. One day I'll join him, though, and I'll tell him then.
And we'll laugh and talk about how much better the beautiful city of Heaven is than the small town of Belmont!