I heard an old song a few days ago that put the subject of home on my mind and I haven't been able to get it off. It's a secular song so I won't recommend it, but it basically talks about the person you love feeling like home. It reminded me of a quote I sent Brandon once that said, "Falling for him wasn't falling at all. It was walking into a house and suddenly knowing you're home."
I remember the night before our wedding sitting on the floor of my old bedroom weeping as I said "goodbye" to the room that had become my haven the past several years. I was at home with my parents until I was 25 and both of my brothers had been moved out for years. The second floor of our house had become somewhat of a secluded place for me and my sister as we had become adults and each of our rooms had our stamp, our touches, our comfort. It was without a doubt "my happy place" filled with my books and journals and pictures and memories on top of memories of hours spent reading, praying, dreaming, hoping. I had said a teary goodnight to my family but as I prepared for bed and the house grew silent I simply sat on the floor, leaned against my bed, and cried for about 20 minutes bidding farewell to the only place I'd ever called home.
One of my favorite quotes is by Anatole France and says, "All changes, even the most longed for, have their melancholy; for what we leave behind is a part of ourselves; we must die to one life before we can enter another."
Marriage was a much longed for change for me, but there was definitely some melancholy and I did expect to experience a little homesickness the first few weeks. Surprisingly it never happened. There was once, maybe a month or so after the wedding, that I was back home one afternoon to pick up some things that it got to me just a little. My mom was in the kitchen and I ran up to my old room. I passed Amie reading in her room across the hall and entered the bedroom that at that point still looked just as I had left it. There was a split second that it all hit me that this part of my life - this very big part - was over forever. There was no coming back. But I had already grieved, and someone else had quickly become my home.
Eleven short months later Amie was on her honeymoon. Brandon went on a 3-day ski trip and my dad was preaching an out of town meeting so my mom and I both found ourselves alone in our houses. Given the opportunity to spend a couple of nights in my old bed I came to the surprising realization that it just didn't feel like mine anymore. Whether my house was empty or not, I had created a new space that I was attached to. This place had Brandon's things, Brandon's smell, and if I was going to be without him for a few days I wanted to be in a place where I still felt him.
Now, six months later as we take more and more steps to starting our "forever home", the place we are now feels more temporary than ever. We've been saying "I can't wait til..." and "It's going to be so nice to..." We never wanted to feel too attached to a rental and I can safely say we have succeeded. But it has been a home for us and it will continue to be for the next several months.
Last night as we laid in bed I listened to Brandon's deep breathing and felt a panic sweep over me. It's been a tough few weeks. We've both been sick and it's been a struggle trying to get better. It's been incredibly hot and we've been wiped out. I'll admit, I've done an extraordinary amount of complaining. But last night, laying there, I couldn't get out of my mind how much I love this life we have. My dad's messages yesterday were on suffering, and with so much of it around us I feel so incredibly blessed, so thankful for these things I do not deserve. My feelings of panic came with the knowledge that this too, is temporary.
We have another home waiting for us. My PawPaw is there. Brandon's Gramma is there. Our grandparents, our parents, so many people we know and love are anxious to be there too. But me? I like my home here. Perhaps I'm too attached. I'm not afraid of dying, I'm not afraid of my eternal dwelling place. I have simply been so blessed by a merciful God, and I am enjoying those blessings with every fiber of my being. I know there is better waiting but my small, carnal mind just can't imagine much better right now. And so this is how I imagine heaven. It's home. I know enough to know that it won't be like I expect, but if I imagine it different I can't fathom it being as good. So to me, it is my home, it is the people I love and am loved by. It is this life I have but without sin and temptation, worry or anxiety.
I hope we can all come to the place where we see our sufferings as God's purification. Where we see the small blessings as infinite joys. Where we can make a beautiful home with our meager earthly belongings, while looking towards a home our finite minds simply can't comprehend.
Heaven will be our best day ever, magnified and multiplied. Heaven is home, and home is the greatest blessing I know.
