Home is...

Growing up when people would ask "where are you from?" I never knew how to answer. Even to this day the question stumps me. Similar to military brats, pastors kids don't necessarily have a place to call home. As a kid, and even into college I would often grow frustrated when people would ask where I'm from. The easy answer was always "umm I'm from all over". 

I have learned to embrace the uniqueness of growing up as a pastors kid and the advantages it has. Of course I haven't always been able to recognize them as advantages. Honestly, I'm still in search for the advantages...but that's another post for another day.

You gotta love the cheesy saying "home is where the heart is." What does that even mean??? In recent days I have realized the importance of "home" and tonight, surrounded by family I know where my home is. It's funny that my parents have lived in Michigan the longest they have ever lived anywhere...of course they moved here while I was in college. Thirteen years have gone by and this is the place that most feels like home. Maybe because I moved here for graduate school and stayed here to work. Maybe because it's where I had my first 2 apartments and the addresses that I chose. Maybe because it's where we took our teens this past summer for a mission trip. I guess the obvious answer is because it's where my parents live, but I really think this is the place I would most call home because...

Home is...where I feel safe. 

Home is... Where you laugh so hard you cry and forget what you were even laughing about.

Home is...curled up on the couch under the blanket your mom made for you.

Home is...the jammies your hubby gives you on Christmas Eve because he knows "it's tradition".

Home is...traditions that are carried from generation to generation.

Home is...family huddled around food in the kitchen.

Home is...Christmas Eve service at West Flint Nazarene church. 

Home is...hugging friends you haven't seen for years and feeling like you just saw them yesterday.

Home is...wherever Addyson is.

Home is... Where people don't necessarily understand your quirks but love you anyways.

Home is...love.

Home is...telling funny stories with family.

Home is...holding my husbands hand.

Home is...where your little brother, who is not so little anymore, throws raw carrots across the room at you just to get a reaction from you.

Home is... Not being the first to let go of a hug.

Home is...where I am fully present in the moment.