Home

My home is an amazing place.

I’m not talking about the paint colors, or the fixtures, or the boho vibe we have going on.

That’s a house.

I’m talking about my home.

Home is a spirit.

A feeling.

A sense of belonging and community and purpose.

Home is safety. And calm. Where a nice snuggle and a hot cup of cocoa can make you feel like that’s the place you were born to be.

Where time stands still, even if only for just split second.

Home is where children are raised…where they are taught right from wrong, where they can fully be themselves, and where if no place else, they learn that they are loved even when they are mean and difficult and wrong.

Home is where friends gather…where stories are shared for laughter and support and comfort, to visit when you are under the weather, and where if even for a moment, you can exhale and allow yourself to feel surrounded by the love of someone who chose to come into your presence.

Home is where nourishment begins…where hard conversations turn into tender moments, where forgiveness and healing can come from a simple touch, and where a pot of stew can be made from hollow cupboards, an empty refrigerator and a heart full of love.

Home is where you can simply ask to be surrounded, and suddenly you are.

Home is where you can be vulnerable.

Home is not where the heart is. The heart is where home is.

Home.

Your most fulfilled contentment. Your happiest of happy places. Where relaxation, warmth and abundance abide.

Every day I am made aware of how loved I truly am.

Recently after surgery and a short stay in the hospital, loved ones surrounded me with support. My children were cared for, fed, and transported. I was visited by over 50 people in 2 days. My refrigerator was filled from trips to the grocery that I didn’t have to make. My needs were met. My heart was full to overflowing.

Yesterday I received an enormous bill that had to be paid immediately. As a single parent, those types of moments are terrifying. But instead of turning inward and torturing myself into martyrdom and misery, I chose to be vulnerable. I posted my honest plea to social media, clearancing everything in our Etsy fundraising store.

I was painfully honest. Sure, it hurt a little.

But in an hour we had enough for that bill. By the end of the day, we had almost double what we needed.

THAT is home. Where you can just tear down your walls, and come before your village with your heart in your hand and admit a true need. And miracle of miracles, you find yourself surrounded with more love and support than you could have imagined.

Such good things happen when you just humble yourself, put aside the shame, and admit your need for help.

We would be lost without our home.

Our community.

Our village.

Thank you. Thank you. A thousand times thank you.

 

  One thought on “Home

  1. Linda Pope
    August 16, 2015 at 7:53 pm

    An African saying, It takes a village to rear a family is so true.

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