I have wonderful memories from my childhood of hours spent playing games such as "Red Rover", "Tag", "Kick the Can","Mother, May I", "Chase"  among others.

Many of these games involved trying to get to home base.  As a child, I was quite fast and did very well at these games.  It was always wonderful to arrive at "Home Base" though and be "Safe".  While you were out running in No-Man's Land, you were fair game for the other players.  None us us wanted to be caught far from home!

In six years, I moved four times.  Thinking this over, I realize I have been searching for a home all of this time.  My first move was from the family home where I spent thirty years.  Many happy memories are tied to that house.  I never speak with anyone who visited during those years who does not also have fond memories of the house in the woods.  It was the perfect family home.

I have come away from each successive house with something learned, but the big lesson concerns my heart.  The house did not necessarily make a home.  There are wonderful memories of parties, holidays, small groups, visits, and the day to day living in the family home, but time has marched on.  Many of my friends are still in the homes they raised their children in and I understand why.  The physical presence in the place so much history was lived is comforting.  All of them are like me though -Empty Nestor's and the memories associated with the house are our history.  It would be wonderful to share the house their parents grew up in with my grands, but the pictures and stories will have to suffice.  A good friend recently commented "Look at your past, but don't stare at it."  Exactly!  The house is not where the memories are stored, they are stored in my heart.

So why all the moves in such a brief period of time?  I think I was looking for the home of the past.  That home is only in my memories.  My children are all grown and gone and I am living alone.  I am in a new season and life has changed from the frantic days of career and child rearing.  My hours are filled with volunteering, church, family, and friends.  My home is always open to friends and family and regularly filled with laughter and talk, but it is not the home of the past.  Life has changed and with it my definition of home has morphed.  Home is truly where my heart is--be that in a house, talking with a friend, with a group, reading with a child, spending time with family, or taking a walk in the great outdoors.  Wherever my heart is currently--that is my home.  

At this point, I look forward to residing in my final home--my heavenly home.  Until that day, I spiritually sit with the Father and His Son in the Heavenly Realms, but my earthly body resides in Ruston.  I have learned I may never feel truly "At Home" here on this terrestrial ball again, but I have finally learned to be content with where I am.  Until the final move, I will bloom where I am planted.

12 I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. 
13 I can do all this through him who gives me strength.
Phillipians 4:12-13


  1. It may be an old cliche, but it's still true - home is where the heart is. May we all look forward to that day we finally arrive in our heavenly home.
    Blessings, Lulu!


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