Life is a <u>journey</u>, not a home; a road, not a city of <u>habitation</u>; and the pleasures of the journey, the <u>hardships</u> of the road, serve to make us wise, patient, and kind.


We are here as travellers, not as residents. The world is our inn, not our home. We are on a journey which begins at birth and ends at death, and the greatest thing we can do along the way is to love and be loved, to give and to forgive, to create and to share.


The journey has its <u>rugged</u> stretches and its smooth passages. There are days when the road is hard and the way is steep, and we <u>stumble</u> and fall. There are days when the path is easy and the sun is warm, and we go forward with a song in our hearts.


But all the while, we are moving on, growing older, growing wiser, growing gentler. Every mile teaches us something. Every <u>milestone</u> is a <u>landmark</u> of grace. And at the end of the road, we hope to find not an ending, but a beginning — not a destination, but a homecoming.


For this is the <u>paradox</u> of our journey: though we travel always, we are never lost. Though we seek what is beyond, we carry the <u>treasure</u> within. The road itself is the teacher, and the journey is the <u>fulfillment</u>.


So let us travel lightly, with open hands and open hearts. Let us be kind to our fellow travellers, for we are all on the same road. Let us share what we have, for what we give away remains ours forever.


And when at last we come to the end of the road, may we find that we have not travelled in vain. May we find that the journey itself has been the home we were seeking all along.