Faith, Folklore, and Friends

There is within all of us an instinct to go home, the place where we began, the place where we belong. We hear stories of lost dogs returning home, worse for wear, after traveling for miles and miles, across rivers and busy interstates, after weeks of being lost. Banding hummingbirds has proven that some return to the same feeders in the spring, after they have wintered in South America, hundreds of miles from the plastic red feeder that feels like home to them. Each year, the swallows return to Capistrano. Pacific salmon return to the stream where their life began.  The circle of life sometimes ends where it began, and somehow, we find comfort in that. Some terminal patients, knowing that their days on this earth are few, beg to leave their hospital beds and go home, to their place, to spend their final hours. Wounded soldiers on blood-drenched battlefields write of their desire to just make it home, to be surrounded by family, to be burie...