The quiet lessons of home
- Rebecca Kenison

 - 2 days ago
 - 2 min read
 

Today’s sermon felt like a gentle reminder of where I came from. It was about Zacchaeus and the journey of becoming a disciple of Christ. Our pastor spoke about small towns, homecoming parades, and the beauty of being welcomed back. As he spoke, I found myself picturing the place where I grew up, the quiet rhythm of life that shaped me, and the peace that always came from being near the water.

When I was young, I spent hours by our lake. It was my place of reflection, a space where I could watch the light move across the surface and feel the steadiness that only comes from silence and stillness. That lake became my teacher. It taught me to slow down, to listen, and to notice what truly matters. Even now, when life feels busy or uncertain, my heart drifts back there. That place is home to me.
That same sense of peace and belonging is what we hope people feel when they walk through the doors at Andrias. It has never been only about food. It has always been about people, about warmth, connection, and the familiar sense of being known. It is about the feeling that lingers long after you leave the table.

For forty-seven years, Andrias has been more than a restaurant. It has been a gathering place, a reflection of family, community, and gratitude. Every tradition we carry, every detail we put into our work, is meant to make others feel the way that lake once made me feel, calm, grounded, and surrounded by something that feels like home.
The sermon today reminded me that discipleship, community, and love are not separate from daily life. They are woven through it. They are in how we welcome, how we serve, and how we create space for others to belong.
The house that built me was not made only of walls and on water, but of community impact, lessons, laughter, and love. In many ways, it continues to build the home we create for others every day at Andrias.

What is that place for you?
The one that brings you back to yourself and reminds you of where you began.
With Love,
Rebecca




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