Where is Home?

Home is here 

Home is right in front of me

A place where I belong

Where I’m supposed to be.

Guided by the moments

That make me who I am

Each step set in motion

And part of a larger plan 

I have to laugh when, in the same sentence, I refer to India as home, and the States as home. Where is home? Is my home in Forreston, IL? Is my home in Ooty? I referred to Townshend, VT as home, I have referred to Manaus, Amazonas as home. And I think each time I do, what makes someplace home?

My real home is not here. That’s why I can call anyplace I am home. Each place that I live is a temporary home as I continue on to my real home.

And, you know something? I have finally worked out what it is that truly makes someplace feel like home. See, it depends on how close I am to where God has me. It depends on how much I am doing for him, or how much I am doing only for myself.

For example, when I was living in VT, I called that home. For a while. Until it became abundantly clear that I was not supposed to be there. And that was the point that I stopped referring to it as home. The only place I felt at home was either at the church, or at the home of some friends from church. Because there, I was still growing with God through the teaching, and through fellowship and creating lasting friendships. But when I went back to the farm where I was staying, that’s what I called it; the farm. I never said I was going home. And if I slipped up and said home, I would deliberately change it. It wasn’t something I really made a choice to do, it just felt wrong to call it home.

But here, I hardly even notice how far I am from home (the US one). Oh, there are things that make me miss being there. Mainly family, or a couple of friends. Writing letters to a friend when really, I would rather drive to her house and sit for hours and talk about everything and nothing. Those things make me feel far from home. But then I get distracted by the things I am doing here, and I feel so at home here.

I know that even with the things that I miss in the States, I would not feel at home there right now. Oh, I could go for a visit, and it would be pleasant. Everything would be familiar, I’d be the right colour, right height, etc., etc. But it wouldn’t work. I would enjoy certain aspects of being there, but I would also feel lost.

Right now, Ooty is home. I don’t know how long that will last. I have decided though, to accept it as home until God moves me somewhere else. Things might not always go as smoothly as I would like, but it is home, and I will remain where I belong.