It has never mattered how far away from this Valley of ours that I have travelled, as soon as I hit that point on the highway . . . I am home. It doesn't matter that I will probably already have been in Nova Scotia for an hour or so at the very least, there is something about this Valley of ours that lies buried deep within my soul. It is a part of my DNA.
I expect it is the same for anyone from the Annapolis Valley . . . and right where you live, wherever it is you are from, there is probably a spot that speaks to your soul in much the same way when you have been away from it for a time and return. We are a bit like homing pigeons with hearts that instinctually recognize the familiar and are drawn towards it.
I wonder will we feel like that when, one day, we make that final approach to our Heavenly Home? Will we feel that same sense of familiarity? Will our heart leap in our chest with joy and our souls whisper Home Sweet Home . . . its been too long? I am back. I am back. Will we cry tears of happiness at the sight of familiar faces, long since seen, crowding close to greet us? Will the joy of homecoming override our fears? I wonder . . . I live in hope. The hills of home . . .