Home Is Where The Heart Is
Awhile ago someone asked me if I still lived at home. In my usual cryptic manner I replied, “that depends on what you mean by ‘still,’ and depends on what you mean by ‘home’.” Then I thought better of it and quickly changed my answer either to yes or to no, though I don’t recall which.
My grandparents owned a house, and when they moved, my parents bought it from them. I needed a place to stay when my prior living arrangements came apart. So, yes, I was living in my parent’s house, but it was neither the house I grew up in, nor did they actually live there themselves.
Anyway, I don’t live there anymore. Now I’m renting a room in another city, near where I’m going to school. Last weekend I went back home to go to church and visit friends, and as I was walking in the front door it hit me, “This isn’t ‘home’.” When I first moved in, I had only intended to stay there until I found another place to live. I actually ended up staying there for about 16 months, which I think is longer than I stayed in the three previous places put together, but I was never really comfortable with it. The furnishings are an eerie medley of my parents’ and grandparents’ things. When I lived there, I slept in the guest bedroom and tried not to touch anything. When I went back this weekend, I slept on the couch.
Last week, I was idly wandering around campus on my first day of school and it occurred to me that here I was at a new big exciting university and I didn’t even care. I have just been sort of on autopilot: Get parking pass. Find classes. Buy books. Someone recently commented on my typical lack of enthusiasm and I replied with some sarcastic comment about “my cold, dead heart.” I was not entirely joking. How did I get so numb? Wasn’t I supposed to get a new heart? When exactly does that happen?
Something happened today. Happened so fast I might have imagined it. But in that instant, my heart HURT. “Felt that one didn’t ya? Heart not so hard after all, huh?” Then it was all over. And I said to myself, “I would like to go home now.”
Maybe it really was just a dream. Yet I was left wondering for the rest of the day, “What does this mean God? How does this fit with everything else that’s been happening?” And maybe, just maybe, this could be the best thing that could possibly happen. Maybe this is exactly what I prayed for.