It’s been two years since I’ve been back home. I’ve had lots to reflect on this time.
There’s so much that can be said about this picture. This was the house I was born in – in Detroit. Its tragedy is apparent in its front door that has been kicked in; windows smashed; the roof burned. Amazing that it still stands. God alone knows how many decades it’s been open, exposed to the elements. And even more tragically is this is now an all too common image of Detroit homes: total devastation. And yet it reminds me of so many paths I did not take; so many I was protected from. And while I have attained neither fame nor fortune, God has clearly been the Writer of my destiny. Like when He said to His Prophet, “Did He not find you orphaned and shelter you? Did He not find you wandering and guide you? Did He not find you impoverished and enrich you?” (أَلَم يَجِدكَ يَتيمًا فَآوىٰ وَوَجَدَكَ ضالًّا فَهَدىٰ وَوَجَدَكَ عائِلًا فَأَغنىٰ). I had always harbored a secret hope of one day being able to purchase the house we were forced to abandon. But like so many things in life, you simply have to let go:
It’s like that line from The Princess Bride when Inigo Montoya “goes back to the beginning”: