Yesterday's words were powerful, a forward momentum towards grace and forgiveness opening the door of gratitude for today's offering. All roads do lead home. For most of my life, I am blessed to live within the luxuriant green of the Willamette Valley. From the age of five, Oregon has been my home.
A few years of adventure outside its borders, living in San Diego California, meeting my husband Don, buying our first home, having our first child, and then, home called us home.
Our four sons have also chosen to remain within a short drive from Corvallis Oregon. Christmas and holidays are filled with short travels, good food, dogs, and the gratitude I feel that I love of all the business having family around provides. As we nostalgically venture to open the last days of our Advent calendar, we fill its content with the sounds and memory of home. It may find you miles from the memory or relishing the hugs of loved ones held in the heavens' arms. Home, easily found in the reset of the heart.
San Diego, a quick five-year excursion. My first married Christmas was still eighteen hundred miles from the Home for the Holidays. Memory doesn't provide why we didn't drive home this year, maybe we visited Dons folks in Colorado this year. But I was homesick. Arriving in the post just days before Christmas a small parcel half the size of a bread box. I think about that statement, you may not even know what a bread box is? In the days when fresh bread, the making or the walking to town to purchase the staple that soaked up the juices on your daily plate. The bread wasn't wrapped in plastic, freshness was authentically baked daily. We kept metal-type boxes on the counter or had a special drawer in the cabinet or hutch that was designated for our daily bread.
Bread Bin History
This treasure-filled little parcel, arriving on the wings of angels, so well packed, tissue and more tissue to cushion and protect the value of its contents. Not a gift but a loan, Rosebud. White glossy porcelain Reindeer, with a pink jeweled rosebud on top of her head. She sat year after year on the antique dark-oak china-hutch next to the nativity made by my eldest brother Mike.
My Mom sent Christmas to me that day.
I returned Rosebud to my Mom the Christmas after next, but with that return on her "loan," we moved our growing family to the Willamette valley.
All roads lead home.
PS. After researching "Rosebud," I think that a large majority of my Grandmothers angel collection were produced by Napco., Interesting trivia, again reminding me of home.
Happy Christmas, See you tomorrow
All Roads Lead Home
I'm Kristen Wambach
I'm all grown up (I think?) Along my journey of searching for answers, I found them. I went from spiritual blindness to OMG! With a driving niche as an entrepreneur. I love hanging out with our four sons, riding with my husband on his Harley, and creating all things hospitality. My mission? To help others see "beyond" and own their awesomeness within!
Request from Episode 141
This is what God placed on my heart: Listeners send Encouraging stories about the creative ways you have "Heard" or received an answer from God. Please share your mystical woo woo too!
Send to: Kristen@kristenwambach.com
Gods assignment for us: to encourage the body of Christ, His kids to hear, respond and grow in our authentic experiential relationship with Him. (Imagine the possibilities)
1. Positive (God is Good) Stories will be shared on INP Podcast
2. Minor editing or shortening the story may be done to prepare the story to be shared in an episode.
3. I value relationship: please share with me your real name, place of origin and accessible email address if I have a question.
4. I will respond received your email
5. I Promise to share first names and location only!
thank you so much for your help and participation. Kristen
p.s. Story's will be shared over a period of future episodes.
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