Thursday, October 27, 2011

Home is...


I love this song but it makes me cry to varying degrees depending how fragile I'm feeling and for  a few different reasons.  

It was popular when my dad was dying and the verse, Be careful what you wish for, cuz you just might get it all and then some you don't want, took on poignant meaning.  I was dreading going home for the funeral because I knew the family drama would be high and I would be trying to play peacemaker or at least try to pick my way through the battlefield keeping myself and my little family relatively unscathed.  Yeah, wish granted since he died the day *I* was born making it impossible for me to make the 10 hour trek for his funeral.  

As I listened to it on the treadmill yesterday, it brought on tears for a new and different reason.  But if you know me, you know that tears are my release valve so, no big news there.  I was just glad no one was downstairs to witness the huge sobs as I chugged along, no one I had to reassure that mommy was fine, because I wasn't.

I realized the truth in the cliche, "You can never go home again,"  recently.  I also realized that home is not always the geographic place where you grow up, where your childhood home is or even where your biological family is.

The kiddos and I took a road trip back to the place where I grew up, where two of my kids were born.  The mountains were gorgeous, the air was so fresh and....to say we were not welcomed with open arms would be an understatement.  

Ouch.

So after little more than a drive by hello to family because we felt so welcomed and loved (not), I showed the kids where I lived, where I worked, we went to the top of a mountain (the picture at the top of this blog) ate some ice cream and came back...home.  

I left my house in the morning thinking I was going home, and I left the place of my birth heading ... home.  

As we were driving out of town that afternoon, I turned to the 17 yo and said, "It's beautiful here but as much as I love it, I don't think we could live here again."  He finished my thought, "We don't have anyone here anymore."  

I had to keep my eyes on the road and bite my lip (Staring out into the night, trying to hide the pain)  because it hurt me so much to hear him say it.  For me to feel it was one thing, for my kids to feel it was a whole new level of hurt.

No, home wasn't in my rear view mirror.  Home is where we live now; (The place where love and feeling good don't ever cost a thing, and the pain you feel's a different kind of pain.) where we are surrounded by friends, people who love and accept us, who care enough to get messy with us when we need them; family by heart.  Even the 17 yo recognized where our people are.  I think that says something. ;) 

I'm going home, to the place where I belong. Where your love has always been enough for me.  I'm not running from, no I think you got me all wrong.  I don't regret this life I chose for me. But these places and these faces are getting old so I'm going home.  

I am learning (over and over...and over again) that I grow through the hard things; the hurts and challenges and mistakes.  I wish it wasn't like that.  Maybe it's just me and I can't learn without some emotional drama/trauma. The gift is that through it, I gain compassion for others.  My heart is overflowing with compassion. ;)  

I hope that wherever you are, you find the people who love and support you, even when life gets messy.  I hope that you are home.

-Peace









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