bad blogger!

yes, i will admit it, i have become a terrible blogger. i never update and i keep promising that i will blog or promising specific posts. (i am still working on at least one of the promised posts…really…i am!)

but at the moment i’m sitting in the airport at kansas city getting ready to head to my home on the other side of the ocean, and have free-really-fast-wireless and am taking advantage of the moment.

thinking about two homes
the other day while poking around my email inbox i noticed something. in had an email from a friend in uganda who was ready for me to come ‘home’. she said “ready to see you when you come home (uganda)!” and the email just after that was from a friend on this side of the ocean wishing me a good stay at ‘home.’

in uganda i am frequently told to “feel at home” and in the states am told to “make yourself at home.”

a lot of people have said a lot of things about “home” and “going home” or “being home” so i’m not really going to add anything pithy or attempt to be profound on the subject of “home” but invite you to think about where is “home”? where do you feel “at home”?

 

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3 thoughts on “bad blogger!

  1. I think about this all the time–do i have a home? do i need a home? why do some folks seem so rooted to a particular physical place in the world and i’m not? there are all sorts of cliches about home: home is where the heart is; home is where you hang your hat; home is the place where, when you go there, they have to take you in; the world is not my home….etc etc. I’ve been hearing a lot of “welcome home”s these past few months but i don’t really feel at home–would i recognize the feeling of being “at home” if i did have that feeling? so no answers, thera–i’m delighted to be a companion on the wanderings/wonderings

    • i think i do need a home. or several. i wouldn’t like/be good at jumping continents like this if i didn’t have a home. i can be here and there and back and forth because it is home. i feel at home. comfortable and loved.

      its love that makes the home, i think. if i didn’t feel at home in uganda i certainly wouldn’t stay here. and if i didn’t feel at home in the states why would i go back?

      one afternoon about a week and a half ago i had lunch with my great grandmother in her little apartment, and we were talking about the recent church service at her church. she has asked me to sing during the service, so i chose my hymn (“how great thou art”) and went forward to sing.

      i started singing, but kind of fell apart a little. okay, i cried. my voice cracked and i had to keep stopping. but that little church cried with me. and they sang with me. its not my “home” church, and probably will never be. but as grandma and i reflected on it several days later we concluded that i was able to show that great emotion (“movement of the spirit” in her words) and be so transparent because i was at home.

      and she’s right.

      the love and faithfulness of those people who have known me my whole life, sitting in those pews and crying with me, singing along with me? thats home.

  2. you say that love makes the home and i like that–i also like the assumption that one doesn’t need one place to call home. Certainly i feel “at home” in many places–more accurately, in many hearts. Novelist Abraham Verghese has a woman character say that home is not where one is from but where one is needed. not sure but that’s part of it. I suspect that being loved by folks in many places means that i am never fully content to be at home in any one place–the love of others tugs me away. as i age, my freedom to physically visit my many homes will diminish. I have marveled at my mother’s acceptance that she will never again travel to her home village, and thus never see her only living brother again this side of heaven–that feels really sad to me. It’s sad that she won’t ever visit my Durham home again. But she picked one home to “stay put” in. I’m not ready to do that yet.

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