For a girl that has moved almost as many times as her age, “So, where’s home for you?” has always been a question that has made me cringe.
I mean is home the place you were born or the place that have lived the longest? How do you answer that question really? Is it your current address?
I have lived in some real rat holes literally. The ghetto if you will. I have even resided in the ghetto of my own mind for a period of time.
I have never lived at a post office yet I have an address there and always felt that if I were ever truly “homeless” that I would be entitled to spend the night there as I do essentially pay rent!
I have lived in numerous houses over the years all while seeking home. Gosh, even the nicest house with custom this or that and enough square feet to house The Brady Bunch can leave one feeling like cuddling up in the corner in the fetal position craving something more.
I think we have all heard that home is where the heart is. So, if someone asks you where home is do you say the middle of my chest? This was a very real dilemma for me for years!
We all have those questions that we know are coming in a social situation and we angst over them knowing that we are about to mouth off some bullshit answer that is not in alignment with our soul. An answer that we have deemed fitting until we truly figure it out for ourselves. A socially acceptable answer but not our truth.
The truth is we care more about our answer than the people asking. We are left to ponder the moment long after it is over for them.
Where is home? A question that I have indeed pondered!
I can answer that tonight more clearly, confidently, and assuredly than I ever have.
Home is where you invest your heart.
Home is in the people that you love deeply, passionately, purposefully, and yes with all of your heart.
Home is the blog that you write that wakes you up in the middle of the night begging you to pour out the words overflowing from your heart and onto the page before you forget them.
Home is the smile of your heart that spills over to your face when your fur kids know that you are sad and become relentless in their attempt to make you smile.
Home is the blanket that you wrap up in that warms your heart as well as your body when the world seems cold.
Home is a lifelong friend.
Home is the way you feel when the love of your life holds you in his arms. Your heart either beats a little faster or it stills and calms down embracing the magic of the moment.
Home is not a place. No, it is more of a feeling.
Home is not bound by four walls. It is free to move about.
My home travels around a good bit these days.
It was in Santa Fe, St. Kitts, Dallas, Lake Tahoe, and San Antonio all within the past few weeks. The odd part about that is I have never even been to some of those places! You see every time that my husband leaves for a business trip, I tell him to “take good care of my heart because I am sending it or at least a big chunk of it with him.” I have invested my heart in loving him therefore making him my home. He is more of my palace really. He makes me feel like a real life princess everyday. All of my other “homes” are more like guesthouses. They get a part of my heart but the largest part I save for loving Fairfield.
For a girl who has essentially felt homeless her entire life, I have acquired quite a portfolio when it comes to real estate and none of it cost me a dime. No, I acquired all of my homes by a simple investment of a committed, loving, devoted, passionate, and purposeful heart.
As I sat in my house tonight, I smiled when my palace walked in the door. Ahhh, home!
When you love like you mean it, you build a home. If you love even bigger, you may even build your very own palace with a really handsome prince.
* Author’s note: My true home is in Heaven and I gave my heart, all of it to God long ago.
Until Next Time.