The Oscars are tomorrow. That makes me think of movies, of course. Among my favorites are Casablanca, Gone With the Wind, and The Wizard of Oz. I love a great musical, of course. But thinking about The Wizard of Oz makes me think of home, of course; since all Dorothy wanted to do was just go home.
Sometimes I am an adventurer and sometimes I am a homebody. How about you? My family and I love to be home. It is a good place ~ we enjoy, truly enjoy each other’s company.
We all know the sayings “be it ever so humble there’s no place like home” “home, home on the range” “home is where the heart is’” and the like. Yes, home is where you live. In my case that means a lovely home with an incredible husband and marvelous son. But it also means so much more. When I am home, the world is out there, and I am in here—in my nest, cocoon, and usually happy place. Is it always tranquil? Oh come on, of course not! I am half Irish-American and half Norwegian-American. So, as many would say, “Kate, perhaps you have never had an unexpressed thought”! But they have no idea how many things I have thought but have never said!
Now, I have had the good fortune of moving quite a few times so far. So in that respect, I have had the pleasure of calling many, many places my home. So when I say home, I consider all of those places home as well. When I visit those places, and those people who still live there—well, I am home then as well. Beyond that, there are people I loved in those places who have moved as well. When I visit those people in their new locations, I am home, too!
Home is wherever I feel welcomed, loved, respected, treasured. Home is where you can sit up all night talking to someone—and when morning comes you want to keep talking. Home is where you share memories and build even more memories. Home is beautiful no matter the size or look of the abode.
Of course, sometimes home is where there are squabbles, irritations, disagreements and rejections. I mean this isn’t heaven, so sometimes home can feel horrible. Misunderstandings and differences in position can make your life miserable. I think that perhaps that is why it is important to consider many places home. I even consider other things home. This is a coping mechanism that I use when things get difficult for me in one way or another. I can sit quietly, close my eyes and imagine myself sitting, standing, or walking beside the ocean, a wonderful lake, or on a sandbar on the Mississippi River. Water…the lovely sound and feel of water….Yes, that speaks home to me, too. So when things are stressful with my schedule, or someone is being extraordinarily chippy with me and I feel they should just shut the heck up and I am shook up from heart to head—well I try to go home…to my ocean/river/lake/forest….. Then after some prayer and reflection…I might call a friend or relative or read or even blog.
What does home mean to you? It means there is always, somewhere, someone to love me and for me to love. I can guarantee that, because God will always love me and be there to love me. Home means that the love you pour out ALWAYS eventually comes back to you a hundred fold—right when you need it and other times as well. It means sometimes my well overflows and sometimes it runs dry. But somehow it always works out, doesn’t it? Even if I am feeling blue and lonely, I can try to remember how it felt to feel at home somewhere, sometime.
Now, if all those things do not work—and trust me, somedays they don’t—-I pick up some of the books I read as a young girl (Little Women, the Betsy-Tacy series, and the All-of-a-Kind Family series plus Anne of Green Gables). Why these? They are about some really terrific girls. That reminds me of my own wonderful girlfriends (and guy friends, too of course)…and then I am once again on an even keel. When I am on an even keel, of course, I can create that feeling of “home” for others. For whom? Well, my husband and son and everyone else I encounter. That is my calling—to create home. To be welcoming…to try very hard NOT to tick people off and hurt their feelings…yeh. Indeed—there is no place like home.
I totally agree with your thoughts on what a home is all about. I really loved the middle paragraph – “Home is where I feel. . . “. I’m copying that into my notebook to remember it!
Here is my post from 1.5 years ago on the same topic. It wasn’t as profound as yours as I went off on a different tangent:
thanks so much nancy—hopping over to read it in just a minute!
“But they have no idea how many things I have thought but have never said!” Ha! You and me and “the Anne Girl”! 🙂
Home, for me, does not really exist. Every place we go, we have to make a nest, but “home”? Hmm. Maybe one place I really loved, although it was a place where we were totally rejected, being outsiders. But I loved the property, the house, the soil, the native plants. It felt like home to me. And we had to move on. And then it burned to the ground. Glad we weren’t there when that happened, but I miss it.
So now, really, for me, home is just wherever my stuff is. I have had to learn to feel homey in whatever place I find myself.
i think that “feel homey” thing is how we know that where we are when we feel that way has become home. burned to the ground…wow, that would leave a hole in my heart!!
I felt really good reading this post. What you write, dear Kate, sounds like it comes from the heart. You describe beautifully what home means to you. I think so too, that love comes into it. Where there’s a home there’s love also. And the more you love the more it comes back to you.
I’m glad I could catch up tonight with this blog of yours. It sets me into a very reflective mood which I like very much. Wishing you and your family well. Love, Uta.
dearest uta—thank you so much. where there’s home there;s love, and where there’s love there’s home—you are right. i wish you well too, dear Uta—love, kate