Home


“Home is the place where we can be ourselves and accept ourselves as both good and bad, beast and angel, saint and sinner. Home is the place where we can laugh and cry, where we can find some peace within all the chaos and confusion, where we are accepted and, indeed, cherished by others precisely because of our very mixed-upedness. Home is that place where we belong, where we fit precisely because of our very unfittingness. Humility allows us to find the fittingness in our own imperfection.”- Ernest Kurtz

302 Prairie- I can remember the peeling wallpaper and cloth backing, the mix matched carpet, the lime green kitchen, the smell of the hardwood floors, the creakiness of the porch, speaking of the porch…. the old porch swing. I remember all of it, as if I was just there. This is all before the remodel and I remember all of that too. But it was Home for the first 30 years of my life. Sounds odd, because I moved 19 times from 1995-2007. By that time I had not lived there in 12 years, one failed marriage, many geographical changes but Home was always 302 Prairie. It was never just an address, it was where I felt safe, loved, accepted, encouraged, and most of all it had my heart. But isn’t that why we call it home?

I never called another place home until 2007. This place too had my heart and all those things that Ernest Kurtz spoke of: laughter, tears, a place I found peace…. I belonged. I remember the day I realized I was no longer calling my childhood home “Home” anymore. It was a big realization for me that I had found a new place to “be”. Be me, faults and all, good qualities and bad. I remember being shocked because I would call my old home by it’s rightful owners “Mom and Dad’s”. In finding a place to be, you find out a lot about yourself along the journey of life. Deep fears and insecurities, character flaws that show when only the “safe” people are around, it can become this protective little bubble of your internal world. At least mine did. But what happens when that place is no longer home anymore?

I can remember the day I moved to this town playing “I’m Moving On” by Rascal Flats on repeat. Although, I am not playing that song on repeat, that is what I am doing with my life. Those reasons I had to call that place “Home”  no longer exist. They are fond memories that no one can ever take from me, but yet they are still just memories. Even the hard memories, the tragic ones, the difficult times, and even the memory I have when I realized it was no longer “Home”.

I said it earlier, I found a place to “be”. I’m not sure that place has to have an address attached to it. Maybe an internal condition of being ok with who and what I am, what I have done and what has been done, seeing the past for what it is, the future as full of possibilities and my present is where I exist with everyone and everything that is in my presence. What I have come to learn is that my “ok-ness” doesn’t have to come from the acceptance of another nor do I need to be cherished, so I guess I am in disagreement with that part of the quote. I can have the things Ernest spoke of right here where I am sitting, wherever that happens to be. I can have love and laughter, I can have peace inside the confusion and chaos of life, I can have an acceptance for my mixed-upness and it doesn’t have to come from another person and in fact it shouldn’t. I can fit precisely where I am sitting because I have an Inner Resource that gives me all of these intangibles and more. What I am saying is, My definition of “Home” has changed.

Home is where I am.

 

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1 Comment (+add yours?)

  1. Katie Marie
    Mar 04, 2017 @ 08:46:57

    Having moved multiple times throughout my life, I agree with you, Home isn’t just once place, home is where you make it.

    Reply

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