A Journey To Find Home

 Home.   

It’s a four letter word that means so much. 

For some it means safety, a place of rest.

For some it brings back painful memories.

For some, it is a hole in their heart. They have never known home.

 Home is an idea that they’ve heard about in movies but something they've  never experienced themselves.

I grew up in an incredibly stable home. Home brings back memories of mom and dad, brothers, pranks, enchiladas, and a house on a mesa with blue skies all around.

But ever since I moved to college when I was 18 (and moved every year since), home doesn't feel nearly as stable as it used to. Is home where I grew up? Is home where the husband man and I live? Is home where I went to college? 

Or is it a little bit of all of those?

They say "home is where the heart is" but what if my heart is in three different places at once?

My heart lies with my mom, dad, and brother in southwestern Colorado with its beautiful mountains that you can reach out and touch, the river that we live on during the summer, seeing dozens of familiar faces at church, and green chile. 

But my heart also lies in Colorado Springs with majestic Pikes Peak serving as the backdrop to trips to the zoo, times spent at Five Guys (can I get an amen for hamburgers?!), and all of my college memories. 

I’ve moved five times in five years- 4 were within the same city and moving to different apartments and areas of town. Granted, moving in the same city is soooo much easier than different towns (at least I wasn’t having to make new friends each of those four times!), but it still left me with a feeling of unsettledness. 

**SIDE NOTE**

There are perks to living like a fugitive. 

#1 I don't have a lot of crap. Minimal crap = quicker move 

(this works awesome for my very anti-clutter personality)

#2 I still haven’t been summoned for jury duty. Not once. It’s because they can’t find me! My parents can’t remember my address, much less the county! I’m not sure this is legal and maybe that’s why all my friends back home are getting called multiple times in one year for jury duty. Sorry guys.

***

Anyway, I digress.

Often when I am in “one” home, I long for the other.  Does this yearning mean that I don’t have a true home? 

Or is it that I simply haven’t learned the art of contentment?

Contentment in realizing that home is where my heart is… and accepting that maybe my heart and and home can be in multiple places. 

Contentment in being fully present in whichever home I’m at, without yearning and longing for the other. 

Contentment in realizing that though my house may change yearly, I can still have a home.

Maybe home isn’t a place, but rather a state of the heart. 

As I think on the things that I associate with home, I realize that I don't think about a house or apartment. Instead what comes to mind when I think home, is people and memories.

Maybe home is being with the people you love. 

Maybe home is making memories.

Maybe home is feeling safe, content, and loved.

Maybe home is the place to freely laugh and freely cry. 

Maybe home is where I relax and regain strength for another day. 

I do know that home is finding peace in knowing that my ultimate HOME is with Jesus.

As I face my sixth move in six years (in a couple months to a new city), I realize that home is so much more than a place. 

My neighborhood, my commute, my friends, and my surroundings may change yearly. But the peace, safety, joy, and contentment of my heart doesn’t have to change with it. 

Over the next few months (and probably next few years as this likely isn’t our last move), it is my goal to find a peace of home in my heart, instead of the four walls that I sleep within at night. 

I want to find home in my husband, in my family (even if they’re not physically present), in the memories I make, and ultimately in knowing that the best {home} is yet to come. 

How do you find or describe home? Have you ever felt displaced or like you didn’t really know where home was?