“Love makes us feel safe and brings us closer to God.” – Deepak Chopra
The concept of home has always been an elusive enigma to me. I’ve bounced around from place to place for most of my adult life trying to find a comfortable spot for my restless spirit. I can’t seem to sit still for too long. My friends and family joke about needing a computer app to track me down “Where in the world is Jessica now?” Even when I am in my home of the moment, I’m traveling and visiting friends as often as possible to curb my unsettled heart. I am amazed at my friend’s abilities to stay in one place. I keep keys to my friend’s houses with me at all times, even for houses thousands of miles away. Keys comfort me.
I remember a conversation last Fall with a friend of mine. We were driving in the car back to my rental house in Louisville, KY (the state where I’ve spent about 2/3 of my life). For the first time I said out loud, “I don’t feel like I have a home.” It brought me to tears. The thought I’d lived with for so long seemed shining and real when I voiced it aloud for the first time. The gravity of the words hit me hard.
In recent months, I thought I had it figured out. I’d started down a path that felt safe, secure, comfortable and easy. I walked along happily knowing where I wanted to be and who I wanted to be with. I’d written to him in a letter less than a month ago, “I look forward to the day when you are my home.” We seemed to be dreaming the same dream. But life sent me on a detour I didn’t see coming. The path grew dark, then disappeared.
So, here I am again, wondering, “What is home for me?”
When I close my eyes I can envision it. The kitchen is big, bright, open and filled with light. A soft breeze blows through the window, making the curtains shudder and the candles flicker. Outside, the chimes sing and the creek bubbles. There is rolling green as far as my eyes can see. The garden is there with its makeshift scarecrow, just at the edge of the worn, red barn. The weather has started to turn and you can smell the sweet decay of early Fall in the air. The sun sets a golden light over the hills. Dinner is almost ready. I call out to whomever is there listening, waiting to come inside.
Regardless of that imagined place that still eludes me, there are a few things I do know for sure.
Home is where love resides.
It carries you out of the darkness and brings you into light.
It comforts you, cares for you, shelters you and gives you space to be.
It carries your hopes and dreams.
And you are always welcome.
I just have to sit still for a moment to realize I have all of that right now. I am already home. I hold the keys.