I just spent some time on the road. Among the places I went was a trip back to Indiana where I lived before moving to my current location in another state. I also was born and grew up in Indiana, so it certainly has been home for many years. I left the state for college and graduate school, but wound up back in Indiana for my first teaching job. So even though I had left my home state once, coming back seemed to solidify it as my home.
I didn’t give it much thought when I moved to another state to teach at another institution, but I suspect I felt like Indiana always would somehow be “home.” I don’t think I considered I could love somewhere else long enough to become home. I was ready to re-locate, appreciated my new position and didn’t give much thought to the process of adjusting to a new place and life.
Maybe adjustment is the right word. Sometimes we are thrown into situations and we know for sure we will have to adjust. I did enough funerals, I know the remaining spouse inevitably has to adjust. If he or she does not adjust, then life does not go well. They often become depressed or sick in other ways. Adjusting to our life situations is probably a very healthy thing.
For a few years, when I went back to Indiana for some reason, it did feel like going home. Clearly, I know people better there than in my new city and college. You don’t immediately get a new close friendship. Friendships take time to nurture and grow deeper. Homes take a while to become reality.
I have long been fascinated by the difference between a house and a home. We bought a new place and filled it mostly with stuff from the old house. Having familiar pieces of furniture was nice. I like my chair and bed! The new place was nice enough. In many ways it might actually be nicer than our old home. It is newer. It is not as big, so there is less upkeep. But I also realized when I returned to that new place, it was not home. When asked for my address, I could write the numbers and street, but they still felt somewhat foreign. When I would visit Indiana and begin the drive back to my place, I never felt like I was “going home.”
As the months and years have rolled on, I now realize I have adjusted. Somewhere along the way---maybe it was a weekend, I don’t know---I turned a corner in adjusting. I was very aware of this on my recent trip. When I was in Indiana, I knew I was back in my birth state. When I came into my old city, much of it is still very familiar. The people have gotten older, which probably means I have, too! It was nice to see them and drive streets that I remember.
As I did, however, I realized I felt like a visitor---a guest and sometimes a stranger. Of course, I have a ton of memories, but those are all past tense. Obviously, all my recent memories and, indeed, hopes are tied up with my current address. I am grateful for the memories and all that make up my past.
I also realized on my journey back to where I now live, I felt like I was “going home.” It made me wonder when the change happened? In most respects, it does not matter when it happened. The good news is it happened. My current house has become a home. And it really has nothing to do with my chair and bed. I am confident it is not this current home---that is, the building per se. I could have bought another place and by now, it too would have become home.
Surely “home” is partly due to time inhabiting a place. Somehow enough time in a place typically leads us to proclaim it “home.” But home is more than mere familiarity. I think it has to do with investment. And I am not speaking financially. I talk about investment more in terms of emotional investment. And we should also talk about psychic investment. You could say I have now put heart and soul into what began as a new place and is now home. I am grateful for that adjustment process.
Investment means I don’t feel like a visitor or guest. Certainly I am no stranger. It becomes a place of belonging. Contrast that with all the nights I have spent in a motel. I have been lucky to stay in some nice hotels, but I never felt at home. I was always greeting as a guest. I don’t belong there. I am visiting.
To become a homemaker is to find and make a place where you belong. In a way it becomes “yours.” We can start using personal pronouns, like my and mine. To have a sense that we belong is a very powerful emotion and psychically satisfying experience. I realize how easy it is to imagine this as a key to understanding what Jesus might have meant by kingdom. There are many images for kingdom, but I like to see it as home.
When we travel the spiritual path through life, we actually become homemakers. We make new friends along the way---our brothers and sisters in faith. And we all wind up living together. And finally, I realize this spiritual sense of home transcends any place with an address.
I didn’t give it much thought when I moved to another state to teach at another institution, but I suspect I felt like Indiana always would somehow be “home.” I don’t think I considered I could love somewhere else long enough to become home. I was ready to re-locate, appreciated my new position and didn’t give much thought to the process of adjusting to a new place and life.
Maybe adjustment is the right word. Sometimes we are thrown into situations and we know for sure we will have to adjust. I did enough funerals, I know the remaining spouse inevitably has to adjust. If he or she does not adjust, then life does not go well. They often become depressed or sick in other ways. Adjusting to our life situations is probably a very healthy thing.
For a few years, when I went back to Indiana for some reason, it did feel like going home. Clearly, I know people better there than in my new city and college. You don’t immediately get a new close friendship. Friendships take time to nurture and grow deeper. Homes take a while to become reality.
I have long been fascinated by the difference between a house and a home. We bought a new place and filled it mostly with stuff from the old house. Having familiar pieces of furniture was nice. I like my chair and bed! The new place was nice enough. In many ways it might actually be nicer than our old home. It is newer. It is not as big, so there is less upkeep. But I also realized when I returned to that new place, it was not home. When asked for my address, I could write the numbers and street, but they still felt somewhat foreign. When I would visit Indiana and begin the drive back to my place, I never felt like I was “going home.”
As the months and years have rolled on, I now realize I have adjusted. Somewhere along the way---maybe it was a weekend, I don’t know---I turned a corner in adjusting. I was very aware of this on my recent trip. When I was in Indiana, I knew I was back in my birth state. When I came into my old city, much of it is still very familiar. The people have gotten older, which probably means I have, too! It was nice to see them and drive streets that I remember.
As I did, however, I realized I felt like a visitor---a guest and sometimes a stranger. Of course, I have a ton of memories, but those are all past tense. Obviously, all my recent memories and, indeed, hopes are tied up with my current address. I am grateful for the memories and all that make up my past.
I also realized on my journey back to where I now live, I felt like I was “going home.” It made me wonder when the change happened? In most respects, it does not matter when it happened. The good news is it happened. My current house has become a home. And it really has nothing to do with my chair and bed. I am confident it is not this current home---that is, the building per se. I could have bought another place and by now, it too would have become home.
Surely “home” is partly due to time inhabiting a place. Somehow enough time in a place typically leads us to proclaim it “home.” But home is more than mere familiarity. I think it has to do with investment. And I am not speaking financially. I talk about investment more in terms of emotional investment. And we should also talk about psychic investment. You could say I have now put heart and soul into what began as a new place and is now home. I am grateful for that adjustment process.
Investment means I don’t feel like a visitor or guest. Certainly I am no stranger. It becomes a place of belonging. Contrast that with all the nights I have spent in a motel. I have been lucky to stay in some nice hotels, but I never felt at home. I was always greeting as a guest. I don’t belong there. I am visiting.
To become a homemaker is to find and make a place where you belong. In a way it becomes “yours.” We can start using personal pronouns, like my and mine. To have a sense that we belong is a very powerful emotion and psychically satisfying experience. I realize how easy it is to imagine this as a key to understanding what Jesus might have meant by kingdom. There are many images for kingdom, but I like to see it as home.
When we travel the spiritual path through life, we actually become homemakers. We make new friends along the way---our brothers and sisters in faith. And we all wind up living together. And finally, I realize this spiritual sense of home transcends any place with an address.
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