Thursday, February 24, 2011


There are so many sayings and cliches about the word HOME.

Home Sweet Home
Home is Where the Heart is
Home Away from Home
There's No Place Like Home...

Today the subject of home came up in a conversation with M. And I've realized that it's been on my mind. I've been wanting desperately to go back to my hometown in April and unsure if it will be able to happen. This is where all my family will be together to celebrate Passover. It's where my family is. It is one of my homes. My original home.

Just this morning, with her oh so perfect timing as always, I got a text message from M. As I described my mundane morning to her she responded back in delight! In so many words she told me how lucky I was to have a home. A husband to wake up next to in the morning time, a kitchen to cook breakfast in, and a window in which to watch the unexpected winter thunder shower. And here I was feeling sorry for myself for possibly not being able to go home to Rhode Island! I have a home right here.

Of course, this matter does not go completely unnoticed to me. I am extremely thankful for what I have and lately more so than ever. But I was yearning for another home so badly that I was forgetting that this home is so special. And it got me wondering what is it about a place that we live, truly makes it a home....

I've been working very hard to make this place my home. This city, that is fine, but not what I love.  This apartment, that has what we need, but is a little dark and cave-like. And this overall circumstance of being here that can be frustrating, exhausting, and uncertain.  For months I refused to accept that I lived here. I figured it was so short term, I would just float on by until it was over, knowing full well we'd be moving on to somewhere new. And that's the problem with the nomadic spirit. You drift, find sanctity, and then drift to new endeavors. This time however, I was just drifting.

My original home of course is where my parents are. I still call that home. My second home was a bright yellow tent that could be staked just about anywhere. With all our possessions stashed in the back of our car, sometimes even that was called home. My unexpected home we found at a camp in small town Kentucky. I only lived there for 4 months and it's been one of my favorite homes of all time. I could still go back there, with no campers, no counselors, no people at all and it would still feel like home. It has memories and comfortable smells, and images that I could never forget. And here I sit writing to you from my current home in Springfield, MO. Yet another unexpected home, but a home nonetheless.

So what does all this mean?  What constitutes a home?

My husband wisely says "I don't think a home is about building strong walls around you for protection and security. I think home is about learning how to sleep anywhere."

I think he's just about got it. It reminds you that a home doesn't have to be a house. A home doesn't even have to have 4 walls. A home may or may not be something you own or even pay for.

I think the key component he is missing is the stuff that gets built on the inside. And not just material things and not just the inside of a physical place. Building inside could mean memories, stories, laughter, and strength. Building inside could have nothing to do with the roof over your head and everything to do with the growing of your heart.

I've had many homes in my life so far and I am realizing now that this home, right now is one of the most important ones yet. It's the home where my marriage began. It's the home where my writing began. It's the home where my spiritual journey began. It's the home where my art is thriving. It's the home where I learned to not give up on myself. It's the home where I learned to let go and not hold on to things too tightly. It's the home where I am learning hard lessons, but not falling apart. It is a home where I feel proud of myself. It's the home where I still have fears, but I'm learning to conquer them. It's my first home that I am taking care of as a wife and an independent adult. This is my home.

How could I let something this important just float by while I wait for the next thing to happen?

Ultimately a home is a place where you take a journey. And my journey here is not complete. I'm really content sitting here in my home writing to you today. I feel safe as the rain pitter patters outside. And feel thankful that I am not afraid to share my words. Thanks for sharing in my journey through writing and making art in my home of Springfield, MO. I know this won't be my home forever, but it's a really important mark on my path and I intend to soak up every minute of it.

I write this blog entry to you today so you can think about your home and your journey at the moment. Maybe it's not ideal but likely, you are exactly where you are supposed to be.

Until next time...

BPositve and BPresent!


1 comment:

  1. Really beautiful words Becca, and just the ones I needed too. Love you so much <3 and miss you bunches.