I’m standing in the kitchen after our Thanksgiving dinner (in which the turkey turned out kind of tough, the apple-cranberry pie too juicy, and the rice pilaf an experiment in too much tarragon). My daughter is washing dishes and she asks me if I have ever heard the statement “home is where my mom is”? I had not heard this before.
She said that was how she felt in that moment, at home. Hearing her say this really touched my heart.
This statement has been in my mind ever since, making me question where home is for me, and what my friends would say to this. Perhaps the responses would all be different, just as I have found that the word home has many definitions.
Where is home to me? Is it here with my wonderful husband? Yes, and it is also… here I go, trying to pin it down, to give it one concise definition…but how can I? I also feel very much at home when in the presence of my daughter and her husband and son, or that of my own son and his beautiful wife. There is a comfort when I am in the presence of my dad and mom, my siblings, my extended family.
The definition that seems to resonate most with me says that home is “an environment offering affection and security”. How grateful I am that my childhood home fit this description, that my home I now share with my husband surrounds me with love and security.
|My childhood home in Illinois|
Yes, home is a place, but isn’t it a spiritual place rather than a specific location? Isn’t home what we sense when we are so welcomed and loved by our friends or family that we can’t wait to go back there? That place of love and acceptance, forgiveness and grace, that calls us to be just who we are.
What are your thoughts? Fill in the blank: Home is where _____________ is.