Finding Home - A Piece of my Story

Until the age of about 13 I grew up within two miles (less if you cut through the back woods, to the farm) of my Grandparents, Uncles and cousins. We all went to the same church, attended the same schools, ate lunch together on Sundays, spent endless hours roaming the farm and playing tag on hot, lightning-bug-studded, summer nights. Grandpa was a reserved stoic man. Early on, he was always present - a faithful, hard-working man of few words and strong convictions. He passed away early on in my life, after a brief, but intense, plummet into the dark world of dementia. If Grandpa was somewhat distant and unapproachable, Grandma had a knack for creating a warm, inviting place, where your favorite food was on the table and a seemingly endless supply of chocolate chip cookies and homemade ice tea were always available. She was our place of connection. Christmas mornings, after our respective families had opened presents at home, “over the river and through the woods, to Grandmother’s house we (would) go”. The rest of the day was spent eating (at the “adult” and “kid” tables), bartering during the family-wide Chinese auction, and raucous wrapping paper-ball fights amongst the cousins. Grandma’s house was the hub that we would all come back to. Even later, when she moved off the farm, into an apartment, she remained the place we called home, as if all our childhood memories were contained in her. Years later, after most of us had dispersed to other states and countries, we would make our pilgrimages back, to reconnect, whenever we could. Whether good or bad, my sense of home was formed around Grandma, perhaps even more than my own home, which I loved.

Being the youngest in my family by several years, I found myself the last child at home, just as I was starting Highschool. It was at this pivotal juncture that my parents moved several states away, farther down the East Coast, away from the familiar nest of family experiences. I was up for this new challenge, but felt acutely, the loss of familiar surroundings. Thus began the first of many moves I would make to new places and experiences. The changes came in quick succession: three highschools in as many years, four years of college in another country, and then marriage and a move to the west coast. There was a brief 5-year reprieve, as, together, we discovered married life, made new friendships as a couple, enjoyed church community together, and learned about full-time jobs, bills, and grown-up responsibilities. It was a sheltered place to discover each other.

But a desire to be more focused in calling and career, urged us on. Grad School took us back across the country, just as we welcomed our first child into our family. It was this first big move as a family, that I think began my longing for “Home”. I began to dream that we would ‘settle down’ as soon as this ‘next thing’ was done. Perhaps it was having a child that triggered it, but I began to yearn for that familiar sense of place that I had once known and taken for granted. But full-time Grad School, first-time mothering, ever-present financial demands, unmet expectations and disappointment in marriage, and burgeoning artistic and professional dreams and aspirations, were creating the ‘perfect storm’. Threatening waves were building, and I began to dream longingly, sometimes desperately, of a quiet harbor.

I discovered Psalm 107 at this time. It was as if God had thrown it out to me, as a life-line, with my name on it. I realized that I was not the only one who had ever yearned for a place of calm and safety, a place to call home, and a sense of belonging. It became a metaphor of life, for me.

Some wandered in desert wastelands, finding no way to a city where they could settle. They were hungry and thirsty, and their lives ebbed away. (vs 4 -5)

For he satisfies the thirsty and fills the hungry with good things. (vs 9)
He brought them out of darkness, the utter darkness, and broke away their chains.(vs 14)

He sent out his word and healed them;(vs 20)
He stilled the storm to a whisper; the waves of the sea were hushed. They were glad when it grew calm, and he guided them to their desired haven.(vs 29-30)
He turned the desert into pools of water and the parched ground into flowing springs; there he brought the hungry to live, and they founded a city where they could settle.(vs 35-36)

It would be another 15 years before we would do what I thought 'normal' families did, and buy a first ‘home’ and call it ‘ours’. If I had known that at the start, I think I would have despaired entirely. I would not have believed that I could have sustained such a journey. But the strange, sad, and then relieving, thing about it is that, deep down, it’s not a ‘house’ that I want. I know that because we have now been here six years in ‘our house’ and I realize that it’s just a house. I know that there is something more.

I’m not sure exactly when things began to shift. But somewhere along the journey, almost imperceptibly, my longings began to change. The things that I thought would bring me peace, contentment, and identity were not what I’d first imagined. Somewhere in that time, something in Psalm 90 jumped off the page at me. “Lord, through all the generations you have been our home!” Before I was even born and arrived on this earth, I was at “home” in the mind of God.! My life here on earth, is a story of going home.

I was at “home” in the mind of God.! My life here on earth, is a story of going home.

The memories and sense of belonging I am privileged to have experienced as a child, are not ‘the thing’. They are just a beacon, directing me to something far far better. They are the reminders that are leading me to Someone far more real, unchanging, and satisfying.

Lord, through all the generations you have been our home!
Before the mountains were born, before you gave birth to the earth and the world,
from beginning to end, you are God. (Ps 90:1-2 NLT)

These last few years have brought some of the stormiest seas I’ve known. They have caused me to seek shelter in the only Home that will never change. It’s a Home in which the door is always open and what I need is always there at the table. I have learned, in new ways, to trust The One who has been feeding, clothing and caring for me all along. He is making His home in me as I trust Him more. I'm learning to let my roots grow down into His steady love and keep me strong. That’s a taste of Home, belonging, and security that keeps me hopeful. My Home is in Him and His home is in me.

Then Christ will make his home in your hearts as you trust in him. Your roots will grow down into God’s love and keep you strong. (Col 3:17 NLT)

**Here are a couple songs that reflect, in a small way, the sense of home that I think we all long for and ultimately find, in the heart of God. Enjoy.

Home - Bruno Major


You are My Home - Man of Leisure