The Things We Make Homes Out Of

Sometimes you don't figure out that somewhere has been home until you have left it. 

When you're driving or flying away to a place that you think is more home is often when you realize that the road or sky you're traveling through is really the home you're more familiar with. When you're somewhere else, you realize that where you are is even less home than where you came from. The problem is that even though you're always searching for the "right" answer to "where is home?" it's a question that can never be honestly answered correctly the same way twice. Home is a constantly evolving place/feeling/smell/taste/sound/memory. Fill in the blank as you please.

Sometimes home can be a person.  This is a home that is - for a moment - secure, happy, and everything you could ever dream a home to be. It has the red couches you've pictured and the bay window that looks out to the sea. It has shelves full of books you hope someday to read. But if you make a home out of a person, then you're sinking alongside the man who built his house on the sand. You're asking for it to crumble, you're asking for unsteadiness and fast sinking dreams. People change, people have needs, and people move away. If you make a home out of a person, you'll forget where you came from and who you were before you moved in. You can't cling to that kind of a home forever.

Sometimes home can be a routine. It's a place where you have a schedule and are expected to get things done on a deadline. But that's like asking home to be something you can place on a calendar for every day of the week. It's like asking home to be something consistent and predictable. But anyone who has ever tried to have a home knows that plumbing gets damaged, windows get cracked, and the creaky wooden stairs eventually drive you up the walls. Repairs are necessary, funds are hard to come across, and at times you have to decide whether you'll keep it up and work hard or pack up and move on. You can't expect this house to stand forever.

Sometimes you can make a home out of a memory. This is the kind of home that can exist in a place no matter how large or small. This kind of home exists in your heart and your mind. This home is often shared with one or more other residents, but when asked for details, the residents will remember different pictures on the fridge and varied shades of blue on the bathroom walls. It's a shared home, but not really shared at all. Time is absent in this home and the homeowner of this place really only keeps paying the rent in order to go back to smell that mix of sappy nostalgia and naive bliss. This the home that looks perfect in pictures, but when visited years later the owner realizes that it's not what it once was. Walls are rotted and colors on the walls aren't as bright as they used to be. Often this home moves on without its resident or any sort of consent. This home slowly changes and, in a bittersweet way, fades without warning. This home says goodbye long before the resident realizes it is gone. Your memory can't hold this home together forever.

But, if you make a home out of a future, out of a hope, and out of the things that God promises, you willl realize sooner or later that home is not what you previously thought it ought to be. Your definition of home will be entirely flipped around. It will be something to rejoice in, not feel bitter about. You will realize that "where is home?" and "where are you from?" are actually quite ridiculous questions, and think that perhaps we should be asking "where is your final destination?" and then pray for a heavenly answer. You will realize that when you make a home out of anything past or present that it is often not there by the time you get back to it. 

I think there is a certain kind of strength in calling more than one place "home." There's a boldness in saying, "right here is home and after I drive 500 miles across the country or fly for 32 hours, I will be home then, too." There is a willingness to grow and accept change that comes from speaking those words and knowing that a home doesn't have to be a place with four walls that boxes you in and keeps you still and contained. Rather, in allowing "home" to be more places than one, you allow yourself freedom to roam. You allow yourself opportunity to realize the blessing it is that earth was not made to be our home. And Lord willing, you will find yourself in heaven one day and never have to call anywhere else Home ever again. You were made to call heaven your permanent Home, and the heavenly Father has a room waiting for you. You can make a Home out of God's promise of forever.

"Do not let your hearts be troubled. You believe in God; believe also in me. My Father's house has many rooms; if that were not so, would I have told you that I am going there to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me so that you also may be where I am. You know the way to the place where I am going." John 14: 1 - 4 (NIV)

"But our citizenship is in heaven. And we eagerly await a Savior from there, the Lord Jesus Christ." Philippians 3:20 (NIV)