It's late and I instinctively hunch my shoulders as I make my way to the car in the rain. The safety of the dry garage is maybe 5 feet from my car, but my feeble attempt to ward off the rain occurs without me registering it. Although its dark and I can't see, I know exactly where I am, and I have no trouble envisioning the wide front yard and gray concrete driveway of my parents house. I fumble with my keys, trying to unlock the car door in the angled stream of illumination from the flood lights. Finally, the key slides into the keyhole and the lock makes that satisfying click, giving me access to a warm, dry space once again.
I slide the car into reverse and as I look back from the far corner of the long driveway, I see them. My family. Dad is in plaid shorts, wearing the green baseball hat that always covers his head while working outdoors. He's leaning heavily against the frame of the garage door, the left leg bent behind the right, and although he looks relaxed I know he's as sturdy and enduring as the house he's built. My brother stands behind my dad, his lean body hidden by his position and a large t-shirt bearing the name of a long dispersed high school rock band. His peeking from behind dad with a comical expression on his face that took up permanent residence sometime long ago when he was a kid. Mom is barefoot, wearing long shorts and a brightly colored t-shirt, standing slightly removed from the boys. She's look every bit like the independent and strong woman I know her to be.
I switch the car into drive, my eyes never leaving the sight before me. I inch forward and watch as three figures, silhouetted in the light, raise their hands and wave me on enthusiastically. I recognize this as one of those moments in life I'd like a snapshot of, something to pull out when life causes me to forget my blessings.
As I drive away, I can't help but thank God for the supportive, loving, fun family He's blessed me with. My heart swells with love and I continue down the road.