Home

“Home isn’t where you’re from; it’s where you find light when all grows dark.” ~Pierce Brown

Last week, Reuben Kigame – a Kenyan gospel musician – posted a reflection on his daughter’s upcoming album launch: The Lost Meaning of Home. In the article, he posted a series of questions that got me thinking deeply about what ‘home’ really means to me.

o   When were you last at home?

o   Where is home?

o   Who was there?

o   Why did you go?

o   How did you feel?

o   What did you do in that home?

o       When are you going there again?

He was referring to home, not a house. Not where you or your parents live. Home:  where the heart rests. Where do you call home? Has your heart ever felt like it arrived at a place? Is there somewhere you keep going back to, just to feel accepted and loved for who you are? Is it a place, a thing or a person?

I once had a cat that was home to me for a season. It did not matter how long I left him alone or whether I kept travelling and leaving him in the care of others. Once I returned, all was forgiven and I was home; unconditionally.

Home is really where you feel safe, secure, loved and protected. And for most of us nowadays, that is No-Where! Is it any wonder then that there is so much dis-ease, turmoil and restlessness? Those who should be our source of love and protection are now our predators and tormentors. And this goes for family, work, friends or anywhere you seek acceptance.

Every so often, the mountains keep calling out to me and I seek home in the wild. Something about the un-farmed nature, rocky outcrops that defy gravity, rivers that persist until obstacles in their path give way, vegetation that grows how and where it wills. The whole challenge of navigating the elements, tracking footsteps in the undergrowth, avoiding moody vegetation (read stinging nettle), acclimatizing to higher altitudes and less oxygen – something about all that occasionally gives me an embrace I can’t find in any other arms.

But all the homes I have found in this journey of life have so far failed to be perfect homes. We had our share of problems growing up and I eventually moved out of that home. My cat died and there has never really been another one that has loved me quite the way Dino did. For every mountain experience, the summit is always both a high and a low point. High because I achieved a fete, low because I’m done – it’s time to head back. No ‘home’ has so far been permanent – except one.

The parable of the prodigal son explains it well. Unconditional acceptance, forgiveness, restoration, being longed for, love – a taste of what our Heavenly Father is to us. That is the only relationship I can call Home. It never fails. And even when I am a rolling stone in every other area of my life, I find rest on my knees. Because even his chastisement is love. Where is home for you?

“Home is where you go when you run out of homes.” ~John le Carré