When I was younger, most often, Thanksgivings were spent in Illinois with family. When I think back, that’s when Thanksgiving really felt like a holiday. The best feeling was my brother, my parents, and myself returning to our hotel room after a day full of fun, family, and full bellies of good food. We would get back so late that all we wanted to do was shake off the cold from our jackets and clothes and crawl into bed. The late night shows would illuminate the room while my mom would read and we would all inevitably fall asleep within a short amount of time. This is such a common event, a family sharing a hotel room while away on a visit, but for my there was such a good feeling. For just those few days, we were there together. We didn’t have any other agendas or places to be, just with each other.
For 24 years now, my idea of home has been the house I grew up in, even when I was living at college, or in an apartment, or even in another state. But thinking back the idea of that hotel room with my family at the holidays was just as much a feeling of home to me as the house I grew up in, because something so important to me was there with me.
The idea of home has been on my mind lately. Not only is it an important concept to me, but I’ve started to think about what home means to the women and children that I work with. In talking with them, I have realized that some of them see home as something they had to leave behind and for others it’s something they are searching for and for still others yet, home is where they happen to be sleeping for the night. And if that sleeping spot is consistent and guaranteed every night it makes it even more precious. For some of them home can fit into a duffle bag, for some home is scattered all over the US because their hearts are with children who have moved away, and for some, home is still as steady and dependable as it ever was and will be there for them when they decide they are ready.
Home is an idea we often times don’t want to see the meaning of change, but it does. What home is is forever changing. And while change terrifies me, it still comforts me to know that home for me can now be my little trailer at the shelter, the times I spend with my crazy new mob of friends, the coworkers who wasted no time taking me in as their own, the new town I live in that is surrounded by some of the most beautiful landscape I have ever seen, and of course the family and friends that are my rock no matter how far away. I have so many things to rest in physically and emotionally, not just that little white house I grew up in. But the thing that is most comforting is that one day my concept of home will change for one final time. As the idea of home weighs on me, I have to remind myself that I am not even home yet. Any place on this earth is only temporary. Until then I will rest in the comfort of the promises and love of my Father as well as the ideas of home he has given me to wait in until I get to go Home.
Blessings friends and much love. Until next time.