Today was the last day of my first year at ministry school.
I could write pages about the miracles that led me here, the unexpected difficulties and challenges, the wealth added to my heart from the hearts of new friends, but that will be for another day.
Today, I am writing so that I can look back and remember one of the most personally meaningful things I have ever heard.
This afternoon, as our school's overseer finished his final remarks, he said this:
"By the time I was fifteen, I started not coming home at night. Sometimes a week would go by, where I wouldn't come home.
But I had a mother who loved me, and she always left the porch light on for me. It was a sign that I was always welcome.
And when I would finally come home, she would wrap her arms around me, and no matter what I'd done, she's tell me she loved me.
I want to say to you, when you leave here, should you ever lose your way, the porch light will always be on for you. This House will always be ready, with open arms, to welcome you. This is your home."
