At Home

In the last month and a half, I have been home only a handful of times. Between work trips, family visits, and book signings, I’ve roamed around the country and across the Atlantic.

Poland. The Netherlands. Washington Island. Tennessee. Virginia.

Each place brought beauty in the best ways. It was a lot of living from a suitcase, though. As I sit and sift through the memories of why I was at each place, it’s a gift most people don’t get to experience.

Poland and the Netherlands were for FCA, seeing and serving my North Global teammates, interviewing for stories, giving a workshop on how stories matter, and leading a time of guided quiet and reflection for the beautiful ladies one evening. I spent a long weekend discovering the Northwest part of the Netherlands as a side adventure for myself.

Washington Island in Door County, Wisconsin, brought a mini family reunion for my book signing at the charming bookstore I’ve dreamt of holding a book signing in. Perfect weather, perfect pace, and all the glory Lake Michigan brings. Between Europe and the Island, I celebrated my 41st birthday, quietly and with a dish of Coffee Lovers Only from Cold Stone Creamery.

Tennessee brought the lush greenery and twirling landscape of the Appalachians, sweet laughter from my niece and nephew, and delightful southern kindness. Family time and hikes held a sweet spot in my heart, and we extended our stay an extra weekend, thankful for the flexibility of our schedules.

Virginia was FCA again, serving at camp on the campus of Liberty University. Over 1,4000 campers came to practice their sport and learn about God, and I helped in the gear store. It was a great change of pace, getting to serve one-to-one as I checked staff, campers, and coaches out and made conversation.

While unable to be in my physical place with my people, most simply go through the motions while traveling until they get back “home.” But where and what is home?

Is it a place that is fueled by remembrance, memories happening with those around you in a physical space? Or is it the people, the moment, the places that are made memories and it doesn’t matter if it is your literal residence?

Maybe it is a bit of both.

Home is a ribbon of people that you weave into your marrow as you explore places where you do not live. It’s where you pull the feelings of familiarity in the nest of your heart, extract the sense of place where it hasn’t been before.

It is a longing for or satisfaction in, the dusky hues of an evening where fireflies flicker and roam the yard, the breathless laughter of a child as he learns how to coax one into the cupped palms of his hands. Of letting go and holding loosely, delicate days under a scorching sun, chatter down alleyways that lead back to the hotel after circling tight cobbled streets for an hour.

We’re hardwired for home, but overlook the life right here, what’s now, and the wonder under our feet.

Like finding my book in a Barnes and Noble in Lynchburg, Virginia! 🙂

I had days harbored at home; the rest were run untethered. Vast landscapes and differing cultures, and it was all beautiful.

Look for home and be prepared to be surprised when you find it. Because home may be wherever we are at the moment, in those moments that matter, in the memories we make.