Going Home (part One)

When you go back home, you get to walk back into spaces and worlds that helped shape who you are, for better and for worse.

And then you leave, remembering who you want to be, what you want to create for your own home, your own family, in your own gifting and calling.

We drove back to the midwest, back to memories and cultures that we’ve been out of for a year now.

The things that we grew up with are forever a part of us, but they teach us to step into our own light,

to take on our own dreams and imagine what holy things might be there for us, in the kind grace that God pours over each of us on our adventures.

So, we ask for the courage to learn ourselves, to dig deep enough to discover who we are and who we want to be, and to not be afraid to know that we’re not quite there yet–

but we move forward, still.

And going home reminds us that there’s something to move foward in–

His kingdom inches forward towards us always, blowing life into and around us, creating our haven, making space for growth, for freedom, for peace, for the sake of our own families, for our children, for our own adventures.

I stood in the corner of the small kitchen at my in-laws’, listening to Il Postino on the Pride & Prejudice Pandora station, watching the sausage links turn brown, reading Keeping The Feast, a book my mother-in-law found at the library book sale the day before.

I stood there, all was quiet for a moment, and homemade syrup boiled on the stove.

The sausage links continued to brown, and I noticed the small presence of the maple and vanilla extract bottles, held at attention beside me. I noticed the blue and white salt and pepper shakers on the windowsill.

It was in that sacred space right before brunch, right before we devoured swedish pancakes filled with plums and berries, that I remembered what home is, where it leads us.

It leads us back into life.

It leads us to the sewing table, to make pillow cases for our favorite neighbor and best friend.