Home is where the heart is, or so they say. I don’t really know who “they” is. I looked. Even Google was useless on this one.
Sometimes we all simply say a phrase so often that it loses an original author. In time, it becomes nothing more than an idiom. I dislike the word idiom… so close to the word idiot. For the most part, as writers, we are idiots for using idioms. Phrases that have become so common that they spark no depth of feeling within the reader. But…
Home IS where the heart is. This idiom has garnered more depth in my life lately, for I’ve felt it’s truth.
About a month ago I started writing this post and it began very similarly. The original post went on to, in much more words, bring you to the conclusion that my home was in a place I had never even visited. How could that be? Because that is where I believed my heart was.
I was oh so wrong. No big surprise eh? =)
About a year or so ago I went through some pretty serious heart issues. I had SVT. In “normal” speak,occasionally my heart would decide to beat extremely fast for absolutely no known reason. One emergency room visit recorded a 387 beats per minute episode. For those that want to dig a little deeper check out this link about supra-ventricular tachycardia from WebMD. My specific case of SVT caused enough problems that I had surgery to burn/freeze the portion of the heart that was causing the problem. So far, all good.
The point of this story is that I know damn well and have proof to verify that my heart is right there inside my chest. Logically, if home is where the heart is, then I’m already home. Guess it takes me a little longer than most to catch up to logical thinking.
This past month has been full of hardships and opportunities to grow. After being evicted and pouring all of our energy, effort, hard work, and money into this new home we still happen upon hardship nearly every day. Each day we fix one more thing, clean one more area, turn one more section of house into home. When I run errands, go to college, leave to pick my son up, anytime I go anywhere; when I say that I’m going home, I mean to wherever my family is, no matter what house or lack of house we happen to be in at the moment.
I was born and mostly raised in a different state than I currently live in. A large percentage of my family still lives in this other state. When referring to this other state by anything other than it’s proper name, I refer to it as my home state. I moved from my home state when I was 13 years old into a small town that I graduated from and spent the first 10 years of my adult life in. When I moved to a new city I left behind many well loved friends. When asked about my hometown, this is where I think of. When life gets overwhelmingly difficult and my shoulders can hardly bear the load any longer, the moments where I want to just run home; my mothers house is where I think of. My mother moved into her home about two years ago. I’ve never even lived there with her. Yet, this is “home” when the time of need arises.
As we go through life we meet people that have a large impact on us. Our parents, our siblings, our friends, our spouses, our children. Each passing person through our lives gain a little piece of our heart, a piece that goes with them wherever they roam. Just as a piece of my heart was burnt, yet my heart as a whole functions perfectly now, so does giving away small pieces at a time. With each piece we send off with others, our heart functions even more perfectly than before. When thoughts of home drift through our mind, all of those pieces of heart flittering about beat inside of us.
Despite all of the little pieces floating about, our heart is still fully intact right there inside of our chest. This is a truth we must be careful not to lose focus of, or we may just believe that our heart, our home, is off in another state on the other side of the country, and any doctor can quickly prove otherwise. Hardships and all, we are exactly where we are meant to be. God has provided us with all we need and placed upon our hearts the truth of our paths.
If I were to come visit you I would ask, “What is your address?” or, “Where do you live?” Never, will anyone wanting to visit you ask where is your home? Why? Because, that is an entirely different question and deep down we know this. Is your heart stuck in the past? Soaring ahead into the future? With your neighbors wife? An ex? A lifestyle of the rich and famous? Is your heart focused on money, success, vanity?
Is your heart inside of your chest, or are you busy filling it with all the things, places, people, that you think you want?
Home is where the heart is, and there is no greater place in the world. Are you at home?