"Welcome Home"

I never know what to do with you

When we first met, you felt like the odd great-uncle
Your manners reminded me of a jaded war-veteran
Full of grandiose and pomp

They spoke of stories you had to tell
Stories of our people, our past, our heritage, our tradition
Stories
Rich stories of where our people came from

I never know what to do with you

You felt ancient, troubled and quirky
Yet someone said, stick around
These are good people

They spoke of stories you had to tell
Stories of our people, our past, our heritage, our tradition
Stories
Rich stories of where our people came from

I never know what to do with you

I resisted for a long time, but you grew on me
The melodies you sung and the liturgies you spoke
And the people...

They spoke of stories you had to tell
Stories of our people, our past, our heritage, our tradition
Stories
Rich stories of where our people came from

I never know what to do with you

We fought some tough battles together
As my days of prodigal wandering began
And you struggled to find your place in our family

They spoke of stories you had to tell
Stories of our people, our past, our heritage, our tradition
Stories
Rich stories of where our people came from

I never know what to do with you

You felt distantly close as my days of wandering continued
But when night fell and darkness tried to overwhelm
You became the familiar nursemaid from childhood

They spoke of stories you had to tell
Stories of our people, our past, our heritage, our tradition
Stories
Rich stories of where our people came from

I never know what to do with you

Soon the time came to leave home
Others didn't know what to do with me
But you said, "Go, we love you"

They spoke of stories you had to tell
Stories of our people, our past, our heritage, our tradition
Stories
Rich stories of where our people came from

I never know what to do with you

You had become friend, confidante and accomplice
You embraced me as a grandchild
And nurtured me to be likewise for others

They spoke of stories you had to tell
Stories of our people, our past, our heritage, our tradition
Stories
Rich stories of where our people came from

I never know what to do with you

I look back on the years we've been family
Our relationship has been weird and awkward at best
But we've learnt to embrace each other with all the love we have

They spoke of stories you had to tell
Stories of our people, our past, our heritage, our tradition
Stories
Rich stories of where our people came from

I never know what to do with you

All I can say today is, thank you
For teaching me to fight, and for teaching me to love
For giving me space to ask questions, and for allowing me to wander
For fighting with and for me, and for believing in me
For the hard questions, and the questions that matter
For giving me permission to be my honest, politically-incorrect self
For pushing me to be unto others what you have been to me
For telling me to go, and for arms always open to say "welcome home"
....
I never know what to do with you

They speak of stories you have to tell
Stories of our people, our past, our heritage, our tradition
Stories
Rich stories of where our people came from, and where to from here

Dear Park Place Church,
Thank you for letting me be a part of this weird body we call family.
Thank you for loving me well, and sending me well.
Thank you for always being home no matter where I've wandered.

The hardest thing about being home is knowing the time will come when you have to leave again.
But we are a people on mission.
We go knowing we have family that sends us.

Dear Park Place family,
Thank you.