The small village had a residential section facing the beach. On a weekend afternoon, I expected to see kids outside playing, parents heading for the beach with strollers sheltering their babies, and other signs of life. Street after street, nothing. When I stopped to take a picture, the only sign of life was an abandoned sneaker, left in a rush to something unknown, longing for an owner who had left it to the wilds.
Looking back, I listen to questioning whispers of where I define my home. It is an old question for me. Historically, it was a place where I shaped myself to fit in and be accepted by family and friends. There was a price paid for letting go of the shaping. In answering part of the question, I opened the door to a larger one that had always been waiting for me.
Is this my home? If so, where are the signs of life?
I am home when I am in relationships of love, trust, and authenticity. Although we may be apart for a time, in these moments, while I am sitting in a place that looks like home, it is never home without the missing individuals. Home is defined by trust, acceptance, and an embrace. When these are unconditional, sustained, and growing, a home is created. Belonging is present. The community is a tangible experience. Hope is alive and well.
Home is not static. As I experience the evolving and ever-changing place I call home, I realise it is moving towards something better than I ever imagined. A writer left a clue of the larger story. “This ‘insider world’ is not our home. We have our eyes peeled for the City about to come.” (Hebrews 13.14). I can see care growing, kindness becoming a norm, and compassion being a first response to every situation. We have not yet reached home. There is work to be done and lives to be lived. I can see that there will be challenges and barriers. There is so much to reach for! Today’s call is clear.
