Post 90 of 100

Home.

For many that word brings to mind memories of the house where they grew up- the bedroom where their imagination took flight, the kitchen were the family gathered for meals, the living room where countless hours were spent, the corner where they were often in time-out, the stairs that creaked in the middle of the night.  Home is the back yard where he played hide and seek.  Home is the driveway with the basketball hoop where he learned to sink a shot.  Home is the neighborhood where she rode her bike and learned to drive.  Home is the house where her parents will grow old and she will take her own kids to visit grandma and grandpa.

There is something about coming back to a familiar place.  Nostalgia hits hard after the ten hour drive from North Carolina to Ohio as I pull off the highway into North Lima.  A lot has changed, but I still recognize the place, I still know the streets.  But for me it isn't home.  Growing up we moved a lot, which made me accustomed to new environments and not having a house to call home.  I am not more attached to any one of the houses that we lived in.  And even though I spent half of my life in Canfield, I have no real desire to return to the town itself.

For me, home is definitely where the heart is and my heart is with those I love.

My mother lives in Boulder, Colorado.  Until she moved there, I had only visited Colorado twice and have only been a few times since, but Boulder is my home.  I feel comfortable there because my mother is there.  I yearn to be there, because my mother is there.

My brother lives in Providence, Rhode Island.  Over the holidays, we visited him for the first time.  I despise big cities and Providence is a big city.  I hate the traffic, I hate the constant business, I hate the crowds of people.   Yet as soon as my foot hit the hard wood floor of my brother's apartment, I felt at home.  Driving around with my brother at the wheel, I found myself thinking, "I could live here."
My college roommate lives in Las Vegas, Nevada.  Prior to my visit, I was nervous about being in such a large city and how the Las Vegas culture would alter my emotional state and thus my trip.  But I wasn't even phased.  I was with Samantha and I was at home.  Sam came back to Virgina Beach for this Christmas and I spent a night at her house.  The deep red of her living room welcomed me in, the smell of her sheets, perfume, and hand soap filled my senses, and the sound of her voice soothed me.  It was good to be home.

Rich Meister and Elizabeth Vahey are taking classes in Texas.  I've never been to Texas, but my heart longs to be there.  I want to see what they do and where they spend their time.  I want to experience life with them.  I want to go home.

For the past 7.5 years, my life has occurred on the campus of Mid-Atlantic Christian University.  I spent my college years here in the dorm, in the classroom, in the library.  I devoted my first years as a career woman to her and her students.  The students became my friends and as my friends left to begin their own ministries, they took my heart with them.  I have a lot of great (and some terrible) memories of this place and my heart will always be with my Alma Mater.  But I have packed up my things and have headed off for a new home.

Carrollton, Georgia.  

I have no family here, no close friends, I know no one.  Yet, it already feels like home.  My heart is here with the church where we will be serving.  I already have a compassion for the people and desire to reach those who do not know the grace and love of my Jesus.  I'm excited to be moved in and can't wait till we have visitors.  I'm looking forward to this new journey with my husband and I know as long as I am with him, I am home.

Where is home for me?  Home is Camden.  Home is Kissimmee.  Home is Papa New Guinea.  
Home is doing life with the ones I love.  
Home is in the hearts of my family and friends.  
Home is with you.