We visited northern California last week for a quick trip. After two days of touring around Silicon Valley, I reached my tolerance level for driving around and getting in and out of the car. I told David, “I want to go home.” So, where was home?
At that point, our hotel room was our local retreat. Once we returned, I was able to relax and reenergize for the rest of the trip. We’d stamped the room with our personalities and made it home by filling it with things we’d brought—clothes, books, and electronics. Life with the bare minimum.
A day later we were back in Colorado. Our home here is bigger and contains more of our stuff. But is it really the stuff that makes a home? It can’t be as simple as that since we could label a hotel room home.
We’ve lived in many towns and states and made our home in each place. Home is a place we belong. A place we choose. A place with family, friends, and familiar things. Home is fluid and adaptable. It changes with our needs and it comes in many forms. I enjoy the variety and the way we’ve redefined it in each place. Like a hermit crab, we’re able to grow and mature and toss off one shell for a more appropriate one. Eventually, we’ll shed this earthly one and move into our heavenly one Jesus has gone to prepare. Now, that will really be home.