I know I talk about this a lot, but it's been on my mind...
"Home is where your story begins."
Wow, that just impacts me a lot. I know I'm like a song on repeat, but seriously, why do we make home a building?!?!?! or a certain city or state??? nooooo. it's all wrong. home isn't. and never will be, a void structure of lumber and metal. it's this emotion that wells up inside of me when i think of complete peace and freedom. it's where the first page of my life was written. and it's not a "where" like physically, but like emotionally. that place in my heart where I am completely comfortable. It's more of a "who" than a "where" i suppose. and maybe this makes no sense at all! but that's ok! that's ok with me...
"I thought if I could touch this place or feel it, this brokenness inside me might start healing. Out here it's like I'm someone else, I thought that maybe I could find myself. If I could just come in I swear I'd leave...won't take nothing but a memory from the house that built me."
SO of course there is sooooome truth to this! because duh, I think back to that little house in the country, full of pine trees and my puppies and kittens, and all the sudden everything feels right. everything is genuine and honest for once. there is no question in my mind that for that period of time, i could call that place HOME, and it was real. but then I moved on. I remember the rust colored house that was so unique in it's layout and design, and I fell in love with it as soon as my boxes were unpacked. The walls were covered in exotic colors and I was home. And even now I still feel a part of myself was left behind there, but here I am, somewhere else, AGAIN. in this cute little capecod that at first glance looks bland and stiff....but within those starched walls lies the melting love of a family united in Christ. because really it doesn't matter what the architecture looks like, it matters who lies their head down at night in that little capecod. who lives there? what do they stand for? who did they vote for in the last election? where is it that they run off to every saturday night? why do they sit outside on their porch reading these little matching books? and why do the words within that book ring so true to my soul?
