Home Sweet Home
Wednesday morning, a three-week-long trip to Ohio to visit my father’s family drew to a close. At the thought of leaving my childhood home to fly the 2,000+ miles to return to our home in Washington state, something in my heart just crumpled. I cried like nothing else. I just couldn’t imagine being away from that place. Ohio was my home. Only a few hours later, though, I was driving north on I-5 through Seattle with my family in our car, feeling ever so deliciously glad to be back home.
Which one is my true home? Ohio was, and in a way still is home, with family and memories. Yet Washington, too, is home, as well, with the roots that we have put down here. They say that home is where the heart is, but in that moment, I honestly could not have told you where my heart was.
As we were driving, I telephoned my father to let him know that we had arrived safely and to ask his opinion of my quandary. He mentioned that I’m just very adaptable, and I agreed, saying that wherever I am, I am with my whole heart.
After we hung up, I was still turning the idea over of where my true home was. What makes someplace home? Is it just where the heart is? Or, is it more empirical than that? Which counts more, where I was born, or where I live now? Then, suddenly, it hit me, and I couldn’t help but smile at the irony. It’s funny, but it’s neither Ohio, nor Washington.
I was born there, long, long ago (way longer than my 32 mortal years), and whenever I stop to think about it, my heart is really and truly there. Caught up in day-to-day living, though, it can be easy to forget. Our true home, you see, is nowhere on this earth.
While here, though, our truest home is the place (both on the planet and in our hearts) that brings us closest to that celestial abode.
It’s up to each of us to find the earthly home that will help us make it back to the home that counts. I can’t help but ask myself if that’s Ohio, or Washington, or somewhere else entirely…
14 Comments
“There is a home Eternal, Beautiful and Bright, Where sweet joys supernal never are dimmed by night. White-robed angels are singing ever around the Bright Throne.
When, Oh, When shall I see thee, Beautiful Beautiful Home?
Home, Beautiful home. Bright beautiful home. Home, Home of our Savior! Bright ,Beautiful Home!”
Heaven is His Throne, and Earth is His Footstool. He sent His children down to walk upon His Footstool and find the pathway back Home.
Reminds me of the song, “Where on earth can I find heaven?”
Welcome home. It sounds like you had a good trip.
Thanks for the post, too.
You are back!!! I hope your trip “home” was a boost to your spirit. Thank you for your thoughts on our heart ‘home’. I feel the same about Washington and Utah. Sometimes my heart aches to be back in Washington and other time I am content to be in my birth place of Utah. But overall, our Heavenly Home is never far from my heart. It is where my comfort lies.
“Home! Home! What shall I say? Can I tell it? No, a thousand times no! Your forms, your countenances, your bodies and your spirits are all portrayed before me as in living characters. ..You are with me in my imaginations, thoughts, dreams, feelings; true our bodies are separated, but there you live–you dwell in my bosom, in my heart and affections, and will remain there forever.
Do I see an amiable, lovely woman my feelings are not there, they fly to my home. Do I see a beautiful infant–hear the prattle of lovely innocence or the symmetry and intelligence of those more advanced in years? My mind flies to my home–there I gaze upon my wives, there I fondle and kiss my children and revel for a time in this mental delight; and I awake from my reverie, and find that it is but a dream, and that mountains, deserts and plains separate us! Do I murmur? No! Do you? I hope not–shall I say for you, No?”
written by President John Taylor while enroute to France on a mission in the fall of 1849
Great having you back. Send me some pictures of PCC and say hi to the chillins and rob!
You have written so poignantly and clearly how I feel everytime I visit my childhood home and how I felt about living in Sweden. And now, neither place is home, but I’m waiting for those home feelings to come.
Thanks so much for writing this. It made my day.
Naiah, I would love to link this post to my blog because it perfectly describes my own feelings. Please let me know if you agree.
Naiah, thank you for another great post.
As one who now calls Ohio home, I understand the undercurrents that tie people to the home where they currently live, to the home of their childhood, and to the home from whence we came.
I am closest to my true home when I am nearest my ‘celestial abode’ and with my husband and kids.
Hope you are ok, haven’t seen you blogging in a while.
Naiah,
Beautifully written. You have a deep thinking soul. I love reading your posts. Much of the same feelings come from the heart of my own heart. I have missed seeing your blogs, I hope all is well.
Naiah,
Thank you for the lead in a beautiful subject.
I noticed Vals comments………He sang that song (There is a Home Eternal) at a little girls funeral years ago. He died on September 7, 2008…just a few weeks after his post. Is it possible that a person could know when their time is close?
We were not given any warning that he would be called home. He worked on Saturday just like usual and died on Sunday; so sudden. I was happy to read his comments on your sight.
Wife/Laurene
I always feel a bit stuck when people ask me where I am from. Having moved over 28 times pieces of my heart are scattered in many places.
How does a nomad define “home”?
To me, home is more a series of traditions, actions, beliefs and mindful practices than any particular geography.
In my world, “Home” is state of being I allow myself to experience when I feel comfortable, nurtured, authentic, private, open. I lived in one house 10 yrs but I generally average 5-6 years to a town. My current residence is definitely temporary, but for now it is very much my HOME.
O ye mountains high, where the clear blue sky
Arches over the vales of the free,
Where the pure breezes blow and the clear streamlets flow, How I’ve longed to your bosom to flee!
O Zion! dear Zion! land of the free,
Now my own mountain home, unto thee I have come;
All my fond hopes are centered in thee.
Tho the great and the wise all thy beauties despise,
To the humble and pure thou art dear;
Tho the haughty may smile and the wicked revile,
Yet we love thy glad tidings to hear.
O Zion! dear Zion! home of the free,
Tho thou wert forced to fly to thy chambers on high,
Yet we’ll share joy and sorrow with thee.
3. In thy mountain retreat, God will strengthen thy feet; On the neck of thy foes thou shalt tread;
And their silver and gold, as the prophets have told, Shall be brought to adorn thy fair head.
O Zion! dear Zion! home of the free,
Soon thy towers shall shine with a splendor divine,
And eternal thy glory shall be.
Here our voices we’ll raise, and we’ll sing to thy praise, Sacred home of the prophets of God.
Thy deliv’rance is nigh; thy oppressors shall die; And the gentiles shall bow neath thy rod.
O Zion! dear Zion! land of the free,
In thy temples we’ll bend; all thy rights we’ll defend; And our home shall be ever with thee.
(Text: Charles W. Penrose, 1832–1925