How to Know You Are Really Home

Time away from home is a gift, especially when it’s shared with people you love. 

But coming home brings a joy all its own. A sense of place, of personal space, of familiarity and comfort. 

Sometimes it takes a bit to really step back into that space. A day or two – to do laundry, to sort through mail and newspapers, to answer messages, deadhead the garden, settle right down in again. 

And … there is always the pantry and the refrigerator to re-stock, meals to think through, appointments to be kept, news to catch up on. 

Yes, sometimes coming home is full of busy-work. Necessary work, but … 

Somewhere along the line during those first 48 hours of re-entry, something inside begins to niggle and naggle, something (or someOne) seems to say, 

“Home means more than this.” 

And you know you need to step away from the busy. 

You have to fly like a homing pigeon to center, 
the place where spirit and flesh feel most closely allied and aligned. 
You have to breathe deeply and move intentionally and … you have to smile.
A slow, quiet smile – one that says, “Oh, yes! This is the place. This is the space that speaks my name.”

So I got in my car and drove the two miles down the hill to Butterfly Beach, just as the sun was ringing the sky with its farewell song.

As I rounded the bend on Channel Drive, I saw that the yucca had bloomed while we were away. Their silhouettes against the softly coral sky took my breath away.

I parked the car, got out, carrying my tiny point-and-shoot, and began to walk the sidewalk lining the beach. With each breath, I felt myself saying, “Thank you.” With each step, I praised the Creator for this place, for legs that move, for lungs that work, for eyes that see and ears that hear the glories of sea and shore and sand and setting sun.

As I counted my laps, back and forth, ticking off the tenths of a mile, I counted the joys of this life I live. The gifts and the grit, the people and the places, the words and the wonder.

 And I knew. 

I knew that I was really, 

finally,

home.


Joining in late with Laura and Laura at TheWellspring (Playdates with God) – and at SeedlingsinStone (On, In and Around Mondays).  Also sending this over to Bonnie’s invitation to talk about ‘whitespace’ this week at the Faith Barista and to Emily’s Imperfect Prose congregation at CanvasChild.
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Comments

  1. What a wonderful whitespace experience! I love the beach and miss it. I use to go regularly since my grandparents lived in FL. Coming over from the jam session.

  2. Wow, I would love to come home to some beaches like that! But, seriously, I get what you mean about the relief in arriving home, only to continue to feel restlessness in the soul. Beautiful piece. (And thanks for all your encouraging comments over the past few days/weeks? I’m ever-so-slowly catching up on my reading)

  3. It’s that same feeling that makes me need to LEAVE home once in a while so I can relax. There is always something that needs doing at home. I like the way you say it. I need to step away from the busy. Find center. Yes.

    (But even though I know there is no place like home, I still can’t wait for Texas!)

    Love to you!

  4. There’s no place like home- home is where His heart is. 🙂

  5. thank you, friend, for reminding me of where my true identity lies. you have such a lovely way of writing…

  6. How lovely to enjoy the ebb and flow of home. (sweet home)

    Fondly,
    Glenda

  7. These photos are beautiful as is your testimony.

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