My heart has been pondering abandonment and how I will take pieces of home with me come August. This urgency and knowledge I’m leaving has both made me question and more deeply value exactly what home means. As I intentionally spend time with those I love, I am so humbled by the depth of the memories, moments, support and community that surrounds me. So what is home? Is it the place you grew up? Is it the place you feel most at peace? Is it a place you create or is it innate? Is it simply a place you connect with God?
In the last years especially, my heart has settled to a new identity and there have been many moments I recognize my heart feels at home. Here are just a few of the memories I recall that light the halls of my mind:
*looking through photo albums and feeling the life and legacy of memories
*completely losing myself in worship at church, surrounded by the body of Christ, both strangers and people I am close to on the journey
*when my siblings surprised me one after the next at my senior night meet at Olivet. With each suprise, I felt the deep connection of our love and their standing with me in the journey
*big family meals shared with genuine conversation, laughter, struggles and triumphs
*sitting perched atop a dune overlooking a beautiful sunset on Lake Michigan, taking in the power of the lake
*ripping through the sunshine on the hoods of my bike either solo or with my dad
*going to Chick-Fil-A with my grandparents and talking about everything, nothing and always getting about twenty packets of sauce
*the smell of coming home after being away for a few days
*walking around the lake at Mundelein seminary
*a specific campfire on the beach of Lake Michigan in Onekama; my parents and all my siblings were there—the night was full of God’s beauty, laughter, a diaper blowout, spike ball and s’mores.
*listening to and belting out Josh Garrels while cruising with the windows down
*memories of sprinting around the house with my siblings while holding sparklers on Fourth of July, trying to make it all the way around before they fizzled out
*sitting at the Starbucks in Portage, Indiana and embracing the journey with Mel
*diving into the cold silence of the pool and floating underwater for a few extra moments before breaking out into a swim
*embracing the silent power of weeping in Kelley Prayer chapel
*crossing the finish line at Ironman Wisconsin and immediately seeing Justin, Kari and my parents cheering and jumping around like mad people
*hearing the crunch of twigs beneath my hiking boots in the silent woods
In these places, I find a belonging. I know I am cherished, I identify these memories with love and peace. Abandonment (or preparing to leave the life I’ve known) has challenged my belonging to all I identify with. If I am truly first a daughter of the King, then my belonging to family, friends, Holland, passions, memories, career, etc is secondary to the belonging of my heart.
It’s been two years since I moved back to my childhood home after completing my bachelors in science to begin a career as a nurse. For much time, I fought moving back into my parent’s house. For the first months I lived here all I could think about was moving out, becoming ‘more adult’. My expectations of life and desire for independence drove me and blinded me from seeing so much opportunity, so much love. The last two years have been a season that I will forever be thankful for. This time has further grounded my roots in deeper love. I have learned more deeply what it means to be humbled, dependent, loved and to love. God has been showing me who I am in Him. The more I learn, the more I see my ignorance. But as I’ve learned to listen for God’s invitations and I’ve been challenged as it requires me to further release my pride, control and expectations and put my faith in what I cannot entirely grasp. But in all that God has invited me to, His love never fails. I continue to learn lessons of His goodness as I’m invited to deeper surrender and vulnerability in claiming His victory and my identity as His.
As I prepare to leave home, I am leaving in a way I never expected to. I always thought I’d leave my childhood home through marriage. But in blessed ways, I’m thankful I have the opportunity to be patient with my desires. I’m beginning to understand that home is not solely the place we live, or the people God gives us to share a space with. I’m beginning to know that home is a place we can return to no matter where we are, a strength we can draw from, an culmination of love that’s made us who we are. Home is the thread of our heart, the beating in our chest. It goes beyond how the world defines home and cuts straight into our belonging to God.
Tonight, I have the night off from the hospital. I set up my tent, sleeping bag and sleeping pad in my parent’s basement to sleep for the night. (HAHA) This is the shelter I’ll have packed in my backpack to use over the next year. As I lay here, typing this blog, emotion rolls over me. I am smiling with teary eyes, thinking of all those who have shown me love and pointed me to my deeper belonging to Christ. I feel my depravity as a human and see to the degree that Christ is taking my fickle heart and transforming it to better receive, grow from and share His love. Though I have never felt more loved by or love toward my family and friends, I feel my definition of home shifting. My hometown will always be Holland, Michigan. My family and friends will always be treasures. The lakeshore will always be a place I draw peace and power in a wordless intimacy with my Creator. But, laying here in this little tent, I am already finding a home that is a gift much larger than my mind and heart can comprehend. Home is a heartbeat, and I am diving deeper into knowing the One who allows my heart to beat.
