Homeless

"There's no place like home."

"Home is where the heart is."

"Home sweet home"

"Home is where the military sends you."

When you think of home, what comes to mind? Do you picture the Norman Rockwell version? Is it your childhood house or your dream home? Maybe you see the people that make up a home instead of the actual building. Sometimes our vision may depend on how many Hallmark movies we've watched.

I'll admit, when I think about the word "home", I have several pictures going through my head like a slideshow on steroids. I see the house where I grew up, the dorm and apartments from college, the first home I shared as a married woman, my current dwelling, and a host of "dream home" contenders. But when I focus on the emotions that "home" evokes, it's the people that come to mind. It's the memories made within the walls that make a home special.

A good house provides shelter, protection, comfort, and security. A healthy home has all of that, plus love, peace, and joy. (I know from growing up as the baby of six kids, peace is sometimes absent, but it shows up at times.)

When I had to go out of town for a conference or training, I couldn't wait to get back home. It wasn't the house itself I missed; I missed Maddy. I wanted to be where he was.

As I was watching the season premiere of "Virgin River", I finally realized why I loved being with Maddy - he was my home. In the episode, the main character is talking to the headstone of her husband and says, “As long as I can remember, my instinct has been to run home, because that’s where I felt safe. But I realized that the idea of home doesn’t really exist for me anymore because you were my home. Whenever there was a storm you were my shelter. Without you I just feel lost." It was like my eyes were opened.

When a family loses a home in a natural disaster or fire they usually speak about being grateful that everyone is safe. They know a house can be rebuilt, but people are priceless. Even though they have each other, the family is still without a dwelling.

Many experience a feeling of loss, confusion, or being displaced after a house is destroyed. They wonder where they will lay their heads when night falls. The uncertainty of the future causes stress and worry. All this is true as well for the loss of the person that was your home. Maddy was my safe place, my shelter. He was where I went for comfort and peace. He was my security and protection. With him being gone I have lost that safe place. I don't have the comfort and protection I once did. The feeling of security is no longer here.

I've become homeless.

My "home" has been destroyed by a force beyond my control. Unlike the wood and brick buildings, though, I can't build my home again. This particular home will not be rebuilt here on Earth. There have been days I felt like a nomad, wandering from place to place, looking for a spot to rest for a short time before moving on. The nomadic lifestyle is not for me though. I need more stability than a temporary shelter can provide.

A home destroyed by fire can be constructed again, but even if the same blueprints are followed, it will not be the same. The new structure will not have the markings showing how the kids grew. It will have different paint, fixtures, and flooring. The furniture and decorations will be replaced.

In the same way, the new life I'm creating has some similar characteristics, but it will never be the same as it was before. If God chooses to send someone else my way, he will not have the same attributes as my first "home". It will look differently, or it might be a different style. It will take some time to get comfortable with a new home, but I'll deal with that if and when the time comes.

I have learned that if this house I live in is destroyed, the memories made will still live on. Those are imprinted in my mind and heart. It doesn't matter where my body is, I can always remember the love that filled my "home". I may feel "homeless" right now, but I'm grateful for friends who provide me with some "emergency shelter" to help me get through this time.

Luckily, I can look forward to another home that's being prepared for me. Even though I feel as though I have no home here, I know I will have a home in Heaven. That mansion will have a room for me, and, who knows, maybe I'll get to share it with Maddy.

In My Father’s house are many mansions; if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you. John 14:2 NKJV

***I in no way make light of the actual homeless plight. I use the term as a metaphor for how I feel.***