Home

There's no place like home, *click* *click* *click*. Home is where the Heart is. Home sweet home. Honey, I'm home!

What makes a place a Home? There are a few things that can be considered "home." It could be the state, or more likely the city that you live in or the road that you live on. For most people (I would think everyone but I'm sure its not the case) its your house. That building that you or your parents own. Or maybe an apartment that you rent. For far too many people its the overpass they sleep under, or a local shelter. But what makes a home, Home? My Home is not your home, and your home is not mine.
Last week I was on vacation up at Silver Lake, MI. My parents friends just finished building a cottage up there and they were nice enough to let us stay there for a whole week! As I arrived back after a short bike ride pulling my son around the block I said, "Micah, we're home!" And it dawned on me, this isn't my home! Of course it didn't take much (a margarita I think) to distract me from my own thoughts and I didn't think about it the whole rest of the week. Until that is, the last day. I woke up kinda early about seven or eight and started to pack up. We didn't need to leave until late afternoon but I was bored and it had to get done sooner or later. Once we were all packed up my wife and I were talking about what to do for the rest of the day. The options were,
1. Stay and hang out at the cottage
2. Go to the Beach
3. Go to moms and hang out by the pool
4. Go home
All these options are basically the same, sitting around and doing nothing only the setting in which we did it changed. But I had really strong feelings about option 4 over all the others. I just wanted to go Home. My wife, wanted to go to the beach :) but it was coast guard festival and we both knew it would be a nightmare trying to find a place to park. So we compromised and went with option 3, go to my parents house and hang out by the pool. This allowed her to float around in the sun, and me to sit inside in front of the wonderful glow that is television. (I hate the beach or sitting out in the sun in general, plus its Shark Week!). I lived in my parents house for about 12 years of my life. That house was home to me longer that any other place I've called home.
I remember when I moved out. And even though I was no longer living there, I still considered it Home. Then after a few months the apartment became my home, and then another apartment, and then another. Now, the house my wife and I live in is Home.
I realized it when we finally left my parents that day and got Home. Walking up the stairs to the bedroom I could feel that little bit of anxiety leave me and I felt so much more relaxed. Maybe it was just because I didn't have to wear pants anymore, but I think it was more than that. Why to we attach ourselves sentimental to these walls? What is it about "our space" that makes it feel like Home?
There is one more place that is Home for me. It is not a house, or building of any kind. You can't find it on a map, and there is no physical boundaries.
I am Home when I am spending time with my sons, I am Home when I am sitting close to my Wife, and last I am Home when I am with my God. This is my favorite Home. Its the best place on earth, and it hurts when I have to leave it.