A Joyous Perspective on Being Home: Finally.

It's Friday, and time for another Friday Night Thought Tale Hour with the Hendersons. Tonight, we will be coming to you from our new home. After years of life together and many moves, we have finally found a place that both of us sense will most likely be the last place we ever live. It's our home. I've been thinking a lot about that term this week and coming to the conclusion that I am not sure I've ever quite felt entirely at home anywhere. Perhaps it's all the moving my family did when I was growing up and some of the dysfunction that was present within our home. Maybe it's something psychological in me that had prevented me from completely letting myself feel comfortable and confident enough to allow for feeling as though I was at home. 

I guess I've never considered it necessary to feel at home.

I was able to move 2,000 miles away from the place where I was born, raised and had my children with very little concern. I've prided myself somewhat in always making wherever my family lived to feel homey, but that didn't mean I felt at home. And then recently, when Chris and I decided it was time to find our forever home, I began to consider that it would need to have all the elements I needed to feel at home there - for once and for all. 

But I soon learned it wouldn't be that easy.

I sat about looking for some magazine version or designer knowledge of what a home should look like. I had a list of requirements, and so did Chris, but mine was far more surface and non-emotional. It was right when we decided to stop looking that I saw the house on the way home from my daily walk with Eddy with a "For Sale Pending" sign in the yard had flipped back to just "For Sale." I decided to mention it to Chris, and we contacted our Realtor who set up a showing. I'll never forget that day. Chris didn't show up, so I looked at it alone. Well, it had none of the designer elements I thought I needed. It was dark to me, and a little smelly. "I don't think this is what we are looking for.", I said confidently to the Realtor and went home. I mentioned to Chris that it wasn't worth him looking at. Little did I know he had already investigated the place, including who owned it. 

And then the house would not let me go...

I went to bed that night pretty tired, but unable to get fully to sleep. I kept waking up with thoughts about that damn house. "Maybe we could do this...This might look good here...That is a really nice yard..." Finally, at about 5 am I woke Chris up and said, "You're going to have to go see that house. I'll call Angela." Later that day, we went together, and Chris' dad joined us. They were like two little happy clams walking around the house that was built by the only person who lived there with his wife and daughters. Still, I was not convinced, and yet, I felt oddly comfortable there. It felt familiar and easy. So, at Chris' agreement and urging, I contacted Angela and asked her to make an offer. As I reviewed

the legal documents for our signature, I looked at Chris and said, "Are you absolutely sure? This is it. We're tied in if we send this." He looked at me and said the oddest thing:

"Joy, you need to read the obits." 

"Huh?", I said. Chris followed with, "You thought I was kidding when I said people died in that house, but I wasn't." and he handed me his computer with the two obituaries marked one for the wife of the home and one for the husband. They died 3 years apart, both at home surrounded by family. And two lines in each cut me to my soul:

"Dad loved to tinker with and complete big projects, which included cars, campers, and several houses. We could always count on him to fix anything and everything." This was exactly what my husband would want to be written about him. And then, his wife, "...was a wonderful wife and mother. She taught us all how to love unconditionally. Everyone who entered her home felt that love and were always welcome at her table." And then I knew. This was what I felt there. This was home.

And it all came together in these few months. I learned about how a house becomes a home.

That’s what makes a home of a house. It’s not designer décor. It’s not the perfect furniture. It’s not the sprawling living room, backyard, or deck. It’s the sometimes messy, always cozy sense of comfort and welcome. It’s where one more person is still received with a friendly, boisterous, “Heeeeey!” in unison (or maybe that’s just us).

There’s nothing wrong with having nice things and living in a spacious, comfortable house. 

But in the end, it’s not our stuff that we value or draws us to our place where we belong. What really matters is how much space we create in our hearts, and how comfortable we are opening them to let other people in. 

The mother who this home was built initially for knew this.  I now know that this is an ability I have worked to develop in my life. I have risen above the heartaches and pains of my past and kept my soul open to how I can use those experiences to help others. So now, I am home in this house we call our own.

And on the day we found out they accepted our offer, I heard this song...

A song called "Home" by a talented young man. Short and sweet, but it resonated with everything I was feeling that day. My dear

man, who I call "my Sugar," could have been singing it to me the past 18 years of our lives, but he doesn't sing. I am so very grateful to his parents who raised him with a strong sense of connection and 'home.' He believed enough in me to bring me into that bond, and I can now continue to build that in our home with our dear offspring and their families. 

Hold on, to me as we go

As we roll down this unfamiliar road

And although this wave is stringing us along

Just know you’re not alone

'Cause I’m going to make this place your home

Settle down, it'll all be clear

Don't pay no mind to the demons

They fill you with fear

The trouble it might drag you down

If you get lost, you can always be found

Just know you’re not alone

'Cause I’m going to make this place your home.

So tonight, Chris and I will be toasting to being home - finally. We'll be drinking something called "Take Me Home," and from the sound of it, we won't be leaving anytime soon. So here's to finding, appreciating or celebrating your home. Cheers.

Take Me Home Cocktail ***

1 oz Blue Curacao liqueur

1 oz Gin

1 oz white tequila

1 oz vodka

1 oz lemon juice

Edible flower

Shake everything with ice, pour into glass. Garnish with a flower.

***Always drink responsibly.