“I wanna go home!” is usually shouted by a frustrated five year old who isn’t getting their own way at school, or the mall, or in the drive through. It’s usually accompanied by a stomp of the foot and hand clasped in tight little fists before angrily shoving them on teeny little hips. This phrase can also be heard in a quiet whisper to a extroverted husband by his very introverted wife at a social gathering where she knows very few people and is going on entirely too long. Or the awkward teenager who can not stand one more minute with nosy relatives on this family vacation reunion thing that they didn’t want to go to in the first place. Insert eye roll and retreat to the car for “quiet time” (i.e. texting random friend who wasn’t invited).

Home. I’ve thought a lot about it over the last few years. We uprooted our children from their childhood home to move out here. The hubby has moved several times. What’s home for him? Is it “stuff”? Is it the people who live there? Is it your experiences in a place you are familiar with? You know the back roads and how to “get home” quickly when there’s traffic. You can wear whatever you want at home. You can dump all your stuff and kick off your shoes at home. What makes a house a home? How would you define it?

I moved my bunnies into their “new home” today. Baby chicks are coming soon and the bunnies needed to be out in the sunshine, on green grass after a long winter. So off to the bunny run they go. It was interesting to watch them sniff the familiar and “mark” it as their own with cheek rubs. I wonder how they will adapt to the unfamiliar? Will it make them nervous and stressed out, or will they be curious and embrace the change? Will all three get along now that they have bigger space? Time will tell.

We’ve been at our house for almost a year now and some days it feels just like home. On other days I am overwhelmed and unsure of what to do next. Does “creating a home” mean it’s decorated perfectly and all the paintings and pictures are up on the wall? Or does it simply mean having a comfy bed to crash in at night? Perhaps that’s different for different people. Many folks never sleep well when they are away. Still others can “flop” on anyone’s couch as they pass through. Maybe age has something to do with that, too.

Home. I’ve been sharing about my new robin momma on social media. She has built her nest in the corner of the barn. Most days she flies out and up to the nearest tree when we walk by. I don’t think she is quite confident in her new home not to retreat to safety when someone gets just a little too close. I don’t think there are any eggs yet, so she may be a bit more diligent in “staying home” when there are kids to take care of. I’m told birds build nests when conveniences are nearby… food, water, protection. Perhaps those are things we look for in what makes a house a home.

There’s a lot to muse about with regards to this idea of “home” and why we want to go there. Safety. Security. Familiarity. The people we care about are there. Treasured items are displayed there. There is comfort and peace among the things and the people you host when you are “home”. I recently read that your home is a reflection of who we are… and even who we want to become. It’s deeply personal. Which accounts for all the emotion behind “I want to go home” bottled up in that five year old’s display of assertion.

…Welcome Home…

These thoughts have come during an emotional week for me. My beloved and dearest aunt passed away, and we celebrated her 97 plus years of faithful servant hood to the Lord before laying her to rest on Saturday. She was surrounded by those she loved. She was witty and kind and sharp as a tack, but her body couldn’t keep up with her. In the end, it needed help from medical intervention, but her heart “longed to be home”. She hated that hospital bed. “I want to go home” she’d say with all the verve of a stubborn five year old. I know that this statement partially meant her physical home, with the familiar and safety of her things; but so much more it meant her “home” in Heaven where her heart was. Her life was a reflection of her “Heavenly Home”… where all her prayers would finally be answered, and true comfort and security was in the arms of her Saviour. We have the hope in knowing He met her at the door of her mansion, and with a smile on His face, said: “Welcome Home”.