Home is Where...

Home is where…..
To each of us out there, I am sure that half-sentence has a different meaning. I saw a banner that said, “Home is where your momma lives.” While I have to admit, I love that line, I can’t actually agree with it. To me, where I live is my home. Where I am most comfortable; where I can take off my shoes and relax; where I can sleep soundly in my own bed and take a shower in my shower. It’s where my kids and grandkids come, but I hope that they don’t feel it is their home, as I want them to have the same wonderful feelings I do about my own home.
My mother is leaving at the end of the month to go back to Florida for the winter. I keep adding that, “for the winter” in hopes she will return in the spring to lovely Ohio so we can once again enjoy her company. But while in Florida, she is staying with my two sisters, alternately. She wants to get a home of her own again, since she sold her condo when she got cancer two and a half years ago. To her, home is where she hangs her pictures on the wall. The place she can decorate and not care if anyone else likes the look or not. Home is where she can invite others and enjoy their company without feeling like she is the guest.
Rick’s mother went back to her home a few weeks ago and we moved her bed and furnishings back to her place. She longed for her own home again; the place where she can turn the thermostat up to 80 degrees and no one sweats. Home is where she can cook whatever she wants and change the channel as often as she likes instead of competing with Rick for the remote control. Home is where she can watch whatever she likes on television at whatever time of the day or night she decides to get up.
When Sierra and Parker come to visit, they seldom ask for us to take them home, but when we do, they see their home and get giggly. They recognize it is the place where their mom and dad live and their toys are allowed to be out all over the living room. It is where their dog enjoys waiting for crumbs to drop and accidental spills to reach his tongue. It is home. Even at 2 and 3 years old, they realize their home is where they love most of all.
We attended a funeral a couple of weeks ago and the pastor said our friend had a sign in her kitchen which said, “My home might be small, but God knows where I live.” How wonderful and appropriate! Regardless of the size or condition of our homes, it doesn’t matter when it is filled with the things that bring us joy: family, friends, love and laughter. The building is just a place to keep the rain off our heads. It is the content of that structure that makes it a home.
Whatever or wherever your home may be, regardless of the size, condition, color or building material, my wish for you is that your home is where you want to be when you are ready to go there.
Home: Where love lives.