Finding Home

"I'm coming home," he says.  And over the next days as finals finish up and dorm rooms are packed up, they will all be here.  Home.  All 5 of us together once again.
Spring 2011- One of my very favorite pictures of
my favorite people in the whole world
Webster says that home means the place you live.  Your permanent residence where all your stuff is.  For a long time home is where you grow-up, where you're from and what made you who you are.  But that can even be too painful to call home for some.  Many call home a place and for others it is a trail of places.  After you have moved around and survived enough transitions, finding home can become blurred and distorted.  Forever just out of reach.  Roots never settled or connections unable to attach and you begin to believe home is unattainable.
I believed that for awhile.  Allowed the sadness of it to hang on a bit too long even.  Thinking that feeling at home somewhere wasn't possible for me anymore.  So I clung hard to what I did have, my husband and 3 kids and felt like I had found home.  With them I am home.   Not able to see the unfair pressure and unhealthy reliance that can bring especially on a pastor husband until it was too late.
Because something happened.  The kids grew up and now call home college dorms and apartments or a stop over until life takes them on another adventure.  And while my heart is thrilled in the launching, and bursts with pride for all they are becoming, home eludes me again.

Yet as I have surveyed and pondered over these last months, I have come to rest in finding home anew.  In a different form and it wasn't until I heard the words, I am coming home today, did I put it together. 
Home is not a place or does it rest in another person.
It's me.  Me being at home.
Me being at home with myself.  Resting in who God has created me to be.
And when I can truly allow the divine kind of love to take over, then I can become home.
A home for whomever I am with.

At first I was afraid of this new form and what it would mean.   The more I think about it, the more I can claim the peace of it.  No longer am I reaching for someone else to be what makes me feel at home.  The pressure is off and freedom arises;  Free to allow others to be who God has created them to be too.
I think maybe that is what it means to be a safe person.  One who others can just relax with and feel like they can be their authentic selves.  Isn't that what we all really want.
To be safe. At home.

I am loving how God is changing me.  And I pray He never stops
Making me a safe home.

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