A new year always means a fresh start for me. I love cracking open a new planner; each month a possibility for new experiences, coffee dates, small group nights, celebrations, ministry opportunities, and even medical appointments. My planners are a record of my history in the making. I often return to past years and am reminded of special events I’ve been blessed to experience. It helps keep me humble and thankful for the life God has granted.
For the last several years I’ve chosen a word or theme to focus upon. Last year was all about simplifying, and I plan to continue the process. As I’ve pondered the new year, I keep coming back to “Home.” I tried to dodge this one because it seemed too obvious, but the word won’t leave my thoughts. I decided to stop fighting, and see where it leads.
My thoughts of home run deep. As I pondered what to write, it occurred to me that I needed to trace my feelings about home, and logically, the place to return was my foundation. As children, we form many impressions and habits that continue throughout our lives.
My home of origin was with my parents and younger brother. I have warm, sentimental feelings about a little house on First Street in my hometown of Madison. It’s the place I felt safest in my growing up years. After leaving the security of this little nest, life took many dark detours. The structure wasn’t as important as the simple, loving, and protected sense of being “home.” My life as an adult has centered on capturing that sense of love and security.
As a child of the sixties and seventies, my life was simple, and predictable. Our world revolved around the church and school events. Summers were for long days of playing outside, cookouts with neighbors, church camp, housework, and lots of reading. During the school year, life involved sports, cheerleading, church activities, and lots of reading. I don’t remember having much homework in the elementary years.
Home was about family. It was that one place where I was known and accepted; the bedroom I cleaned every Saturday morning, and the rhythm of meals with our family of four every evening. It was the every-other-Thursday nights of eating at Canturbury’s Restaurant; ordering the same thing for years…cubed steak, homemade french fries, and applesauce. It included the regular visits we made to Ma Bailey’s, and Papa and Aunt Phyllis’ house at least once a month, after church on Sunday. They each lived an hour away in Logan County. My introverted self thrived in this small world.
Home was about family. It was that one place where I was known and accepted; the bedroom I cleaned every Saturday morning, and the rhythm of meals with our family of four every evening. It was the every-other-Thursday nights of eating at Canturbury’s Restaurant; ordering the same thing for years…cubed steak, homemade french fries, and applesauce. It included the regular visits we made to Ma Bailey’s, and Papa and Aunt Phyllis’ house at least once a month, after church on Sunday. They each lived an hour away in Logan County. My introverted self thrived in this small world.
There was a period of several years when home, as I knew it, disappeared. Losing the structure and security of my parents left me struggling emotionally and physically, and left an imprint on my heart. Because of my early struggles, home came to mean something much deeper as the years passed.
When I became a parent at twenty-seven years of age, I wanted to create a stable home for my family. I understood too well the affects of not providing love and security to my children. It wasn’t always easy, and many sacrifices were made, but I’m thankful for the years of our home life. We made many memories I’ll forever cherish.
I’m thankful for parents who lived out their faith in front of me, giving me a foundation to secure my life in Christ. Without that beginning, I wouldn’t have known what to reach for. Never underestimate the value of giving your children stability with heavy doses of unconditional love. When the storms of life come, and they do for everyone, they will have something to cling to; a home base to return to when life becomes too hard.
I’m not sure where this will go for the remainder of 2019, but I want to begin a conversation. As Dr. Dobson said in his long-running radio program, “Turn your heart toward home.” I look forward to the journey.
