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Monday, December 1, 2014

When I Think of Home


"Home is a place we all must find, child. It's not a place where you eat or sleep. Home is knowing. Knowing your mind, knowing your heart, knowing your courage. If we know ourselves, we're always home, anywhere." 
 - Glinda the Good, The Wiz (1978) 


Recently, Chris and I watched the documentary, Tiny: A Story About Living Small, on Netflix. The documentary followed a young man as he built his very tiny home on wheels. He built his house in a friend's backyard, but once he finished, he moved it to his property in Colorado, the only place that he felt at home. Though the topic of feeling at home is not the primary subject of the documentary, it is discussed throughout the show, and I began to think about my earliest memories of home. 


As a child, I grew up in the home of my grandparents. It never felt like home to me; it did not feel like a happy or a safe place to be. Living with my grandmother was hard, and not having a relationship with my mother or father left me feeling alone.  


But I did have a home. I always felt loved and accepted when I was there. 


When I was a child, my grandmother took me to Mass every Saturday evening. We always had to be at the church 30 minutes early. I did not mind because the church was quiet and safe. I loved the way the last bit of daylight spilled through the old stained glass windows. We sat in the same pew every week. I always felt happy there. I looked around at the other parishioners and knew that they were my people. They may not have known me, and I did not know them, but God knew and loved all of us, and we were there for Him because we loved Him. 





Now that I am married with children, we have a home made of wood and bricks. A home that I feel happy and safe in, but if I lost it I would not mourn. I know where my true home is, a place where I can be with Jesus and my family. 


It does not matter which city or state I live in because there will always be a church for me to attend, where Jesus is there for me. A place where I feel happy and safe until I am called to my eternal home. 


Where is your safe place? Where is your home? 

2 comments:

  1. Erica, this is well written and I can so relate to living in a home that did not feel like your own. We moved into my stepfather's home when I was 13 and from then on I could not wait to grow up and make a home for myself. Now I truly feel at home in our Church.

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  2. I always feel so at home in the Catholic church as well. It's comforting to know that the Mass that is being said is the same everywhere!!

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