glutton for home

At the start of every year my pastor goes on a rant of some new devotional book or style that he wants us all to do together. Sometimes he promotes a book, or maybe a "through in a year" type of Bible, but his ultimate goal is to get us into the Word. Along those same lines, he is also open about his own personal journey through Scripture and how he approaches his devotional time.

A few years ago he shared with us that each day he devotes two pages of his journal to such a time. On one page he lists at least ten things he is thankful for, trying to be aware of even the smallest things in life. On the other page he spends time using one acronym or another to talk to God (as if God prefers poetry to non-fiction).

Something about the "thankful" page stuck out to me. When 2010 began I decided to utilize a similar style of devotional time, putting emphasis on the thankful. To be honest, I haven't kept up with it as much as I'd like but there is joy in each list I create and a sense of peace. Shoot, even "peace" has made it to the list. As I look back at those lists I notice one thing I am especially thankful for on a regular basis: my home.

For whatever reason I have always had an inclination toward home: being home, playing house, decorating, cleaning, organizing, etc. I love the sense of coming home to a place that is my own. As an introvert I thrive on the energy I receive from being in my own space on my own time, usually alone. However, I grew up in a family of 6 and quickly learned to appreciate the white noise that comes along with it. Knowing someone is in the other room, across the hall, or making a meal in the kitchen comforts me like the scent of dinner cooking and the whir of the washing machine spinning my gym clothes like ocean waves. To me, this is home.

On the other hand, I am not unaccustomed to that feeling of "cabin fever". While I have probably never experienced true cabin fever seeing that I grew up in a warm, coastal climate, my love of home has occasionally given me the sense of needing to get out. So, to the beach, to the pool, to the mall, or a museum I go, only to return to that place of comfort I hold so dear. The fix for cabin fever doesn't take much--just a few hours away and already I'm looking forward to home. I've heard that "absence makes the hear grow fonder" and I'm beginning to think its true.

I'm a glutton for home projects: organizing, sorting, cleaning, throwing away, re-organizaing, cooking, etc. You name it, I probably enjoy doing it (except for those never-ending dishes in the sink). The order I attempt to create keeps me sane and welcomes me each morning as I wake and evening as I walk through the door.

Although my initial intent in ordering my home in such a way is to create a home for myself, I also hope to create a home for every person who walks through the door behind me. I want people to feel the peace I feel as I linger on the couch in my pajamas catching up on reality T.V. while surfing the internet and snacking on popcorn. My hope is that they might join in with me, or better yet, do what they need to do: raid the pantry for snacks, grab a magazine to sift through, snag a blanket to curl up with on the couch, or sit with me and shoot the breeze.

I've heard many times that "home is where the heart is". To be honest I am not totally sure what that means or if there is any truth to the statement. What I do know is that my heart is happy when I am at home.

Now, despite my near obsession with playing house I must admit it's not exactly perfect. Often times you'll find a cluttered pile of unopened mail, un-emtied recycling bins, and a dishwasher that needs running. Stains spot the carpet thanks to a bunch of awkwardly growing jr. high girls. My tub needs scrubbing, and the patio sweeping. No matter how hard I try nothing is ever perfect for long. But these things make home home as much as that whiff of dinner and whir of the wash. I'm not perfect so it's only appropriate that my home wouldn't be either.

Home might be where your heart is, or maybe you left it somewhere and you're missing it dearly. Home is what you make it where you make it; it's who you are and what you're about. Home is where you find peace and joy.