It is difficult to describe what a home group is. 'Home group' is generally a limp term. Old people belong in a home; unrehabilitated drunkards go to a group. It always struck me as an undesirable name for something that was totally opposite.
A home group is an animal that grows. It can start in infancy as a stick insect, awkward, gangly and too fragile to stroke and love. Then it can mutate into a lap dog, fluffy, small and cuddly. Lap dogs trade in units of 'feel'. They amass emo credits to stave off having to inherit responsibility. And then, if your experience is such, the lap dog can jump a species and mature into a horse. A strong horse. Full of muscle; yet graceful and capable of dressage if necessary. Fast, reliable and a conveyor of people. But full of soul. Horses love to love and to be loved.
We were lucky enough to have stabled a pure thoroughbred stallion.
When the home group descended on our lounge, if you listened carefully, you could hear the low purr of an engine under a bonnet. It hummed. The more people feasted off the kinetic energy the more they produced it. The atomic structure of a home group is charged with the electrons of God. Only He can produce the invisible particles that make a group indivisible.
The home group was a collection of amazing people all in in their own right. Young, smart, up with the trends of the world, humble and God-fearing. They were a joy to my heart.
They all gathered in the lounge. We were tight-knit. Full of love. The dint of committing to every Thursday night had made us strong and close.
The words stuck in my throat as I embellished upon our plan to go to the nations of the world. I looked around the room, taking in each pair of eyes. Some sad. Some listening. Some scared. It was to the eyes I spoke. Some times you speak to people's hearts, some times to their eyes; on that day I spoke to their eyes.
The Home Group as we knew it was over. So sudden. So fast. Seasons in God can end summarily. Our lives cross and tangle, and then He diverges them upon His wish.
Possibly it is not sad to leave your friends or watch them go. Possibly it is sad because you wished you had made so much more of the time together. If nothing else, leaving teaches you just how godly the maxim carpe diem is.
They all gathered in the lounge. We were tight-knit. Full of love. The dint of committing to every Thursday night had made us strong and close.
The words stuck in my throat as I embellished upon our plan to go to the nations of the world. I looked around the room, taking in each pair of eyes. Some sad. Some listening. Some scared. It was to the eyes I spoke. Some times you speak to people's hearts, some times to their eyes; on that day I spoke to their eyes.
The Home Group as we knew it was over. So sudden. So fast. Seasons in God can end summarily. Our lives cross and tangle, and then He diverges them upon His wish.
Possibly it is not sad to leave your friends or watch them go. Possibly it is sad because you wished you had made so much more of the time together. If nothing else, leaving teaches you just how godly the maxim carpe diem is.
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