Home

I must admit the idea of home has morphed for me over the last year. I mean, home in the traditional sense is where my parents are, but even that location is soon to change as my folks move this summer. It is likely that the next time I go "home," it will be to a room I've never seen and a town where my friends are not. Even so, I don't think I will painstakingly say I'm going to my "parent's house." I'll still say I'm going home.

So, what is home? And is it really such a solid concept as I've always believed?

In one year, I've called six places home. And in the past two years, I've slept in nearly 30 beds, not counting hotel rooms and a couple random floors. Were all those beds home?

If home is defined as where the heart is, the answer to that question is no...and yes. It depends on how you define heart.

If you define heart as solely a deep love for the people in the house you're calling home, then all those beds were not home.

But if you define heart as hopes, dreams, prayers, memories, peace, and feeling alive, then those beds were home.

I've often said I feel most at home on the road. I think part of the reason I say that is because my heart loves the freedom and adventure of travel. When I'm out and about -- be it thousands of miles from America or one mile from my house as I drink coffee and read in a coffee shop -- I can feel my heart expanding with each beat. I love the sights and sounds and smells that are different from those in whatever house I'm currently living. In that way, all those beds were home because they were new and different, and my heart loved it.

At the same time, I'm human. I long for stability almost as much as I long for the open road. I am giddy excited for the day I get to unpack all the stuff I've had packed away for two years. It'll be like Christmas to unwrap mugs I've forgotten and books that comfort me with their very presence on my shelves.

Still, I do not believe home is where your stuff is. Unpacking will simply be a perk to finding a house in which to stay a while. That house will not be home until I put some heart in it. And just how do I do that?

I dream about grand adventures.
I relive good memories with good people.
I find rest and peace.
I pray. 

And I call my mom.