It’s the fifth Christmas without my husband, and the tree is up and decorated. It’s an artificial one, unlike the trees we selected at the cut-it-yourself tree farms over the span of our marriage. There are so many details left undone that are making the second Christmas in my new-ish town home feel like it’s not really home.
You see, lately I have had profound feelings of being at loose ends… of not being connected… of my condo not feeling like home. Home was where my late husband and I lived, and I don’t live there anymore.
Since his death, I have been searching for Home. Don’t get me wrong...I have a place to live. My things are there. Family photos are scattered about on walls and shelves. Items of importance and practicality have their places in my dwelling. Friends and family come over, and we have wonderful times together. But it’s not enough.
What I lack is a place to call Home.
For me, Home is the spot where I feel settled and content. It’s the place where family and friends gather; where the traditions of the past may continue when we get together.
Last summer I sold our home of thirteen years. My parents sold their home of thirty-five years. It felt as if Home had slipped through my fingers much like sand on the beach. It seemed the traditions we made in these places had also slipped away when the homes were no longer ours.
Ever since, I have been searching for the feeling of Home that continues to elude me. Home is the place that allows me to be myself. Where I can look at my roots while dreaming of hopes for the future.
Putting down roots is so very important, and I have been trying to do so in my new place. Without the tangible spaces that were the backdrop of so many important moments in my life, it is sometimes challenging to feel at Home in my own condo.
So I look elsewhere for this feeling of connection. Seek out other avenues where I may meet people who might be able to help me make my house a Home. And I don’t find it.
In all the places I have searched, I discover that none of them are Home. At first I thought it was because my late husband was not there. Then I realized it was because I was not really there.
Home, it seems, is the place where I am. The place where I can really be me. Am able to rediscover myself and the things and people that bring me joy.
It’s not an easy road to travel to get to the Home of myself. So I don’t go alone. At first I sought out other people, only to discover they could not get me there.
So instead, I seek guidance from God through prayer and contemplation. The Creator guides me back toward Home. Invites me to seek out meaningful experiences as I provide faith-filled service to others. Shows me the Home that already exists in the family and friendships that have sustained me over these past years.
It is the Creator who fills me with the hope as I place my trust in the One who can guide me toward finding the Home I so long for.
The Psalmist in Chapter 25: 4-10 reminds me of how God wants me to invite God along as I do this journey toward Home:
Make your ways known to me, Lord; teach me Your paths. Lead me in Your truth—teach it to
me—because You are the God who saves me. I put my hope in you all day long. Lord,
remember your compassion and faithful love- they are forever! But don’t remember the sins of
my youth or my wrongdoing. Remember me only according to your faithful love for the sake
of your goodness, Lord. For God guides the weak to justice, teaching them God’s way. All
the Lord’s paths are loving and faithful.
Because of the Creator’s never-ending presence, I am able to continue my journey toward Home. It is the Creator who sends the right people to accompany me along the route. This fills me with hope and peace, and allows me to get back on track when I get distracted along the way.
FOR FURTHER THOUGHT
The poem “Home” was written before this blog. It’s inspiration came from the feelings of unease that have plagued me these past few years. While I continue to feel at loose ends some of the time, when I remember to go back Home to myself, the tension subsides and hope pours into the spaces of my heart. I pray You will find Home within yourself, as well.
Home
A Poem by Jenny Seylar
There are many versions
Of home to be found
In this vast world;
None so inviting,
None so welcoming,
None so intimate
As Home within myself.
My inner Home
Is the most familiar
Of places I can go,
And it is also the hardest
Journey in which to traverse.
The roads to myself are
Rocky and winding,
Up hill and down,
Stormy and calm.
Just when I think
I have nearly arrived Home,
A detour blocks my way
And I find myself
Wandering aimlessly
In uncharted territory.
Try as I might,
To return to the main road,
Distraction steers
Me further off course.
I discover landmarks,
And people,
And situations
That continue to
Entice me further
Off course.
It is lonely
Traveling back to myself,
And so I stop along the way,
At the wayside rests.
Searching for,
longing for,
Some sort of companionship,
Sort of meaning,
Some sort of relief
From the isolation
Of traveling back Home.
These places
Appear so inviting,
Occupied as they are
With diverse people
And varied opportunities
And glorious vistas.
Then, the fog clears,
And the dismal reality
Comes into full view
Revealing nothing special
In this place
That it is just like
Every other one,
And it is not Home.
These destinations
Do not contain
The luxuries
That allow me
To truly be myself;
Lacks the real support,
In which I long,
And it is void
Of people who truly care
What I am enduring
Amid my waking hours
And sleepless nights.
So I gather up
My belongings
And muster up
The necessary energy
To get back
On the road to Home.
I eventually veer off
Onto the overgrown path,
With it’s deep ruts,
And thick saplings
And broken down dwellings
That leads to Home.
Finally, I arrive.
It is often lonely there too,
Until I look around
And see the One
Who never departs
My Home;
Who helps me find
My way back
To the inner Peace
I long so desperately
To acquire.
It’s ironic
How the Creator
Is always there
Waiting patiently
For my return,
Reminding me
That searching for Home
Anyplace but there
Is unnecessary.
Still,
The Creator
Allows my heart to wander ,
Celebrating when
My heart
Find it’s way back.
There in my Home,
I encounter the One
Who celebrates
My uniqueness,
Holds my hand
When I am scared,
And welcomes in
Those whom I choose
To invite in
For the journey.
Home is where
Inner Peace prevails;
It is the place
That gives me strength
To tackle
The challenges,
The suffering,
The heartache
That exists outside myself.
Other places
Feel like home,
But only when
I am firmly rooted
In the Home of my heart.
So I will stay
Close to Home,
Stay near to the Creator,
Not tarry too long
In places lacking substance,
And Will do so,
As best I can.
PRAYER
Creator God, thank You for never leaving my side. I am so grateful that Your hope permeates my very being and guides me back to my Home, even as I tend to stray away. Please help the Home in myself create Home in the physical space of my house, my work, with family, and with friends. I need look no further than myself to find You and that which truly brings meaning to my life. Amen.
To learn more about Jenny Seylar, Click Here
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