What is “HOME” to Me?
Erin Murray
Seattle Mennonite Church, April 24, 2005
About a month ago, Sarah approached me and asked me to speak with you all this morning prompting me to think about the idea of “home”. So being who I am, I put this idea in the back of my mind, where it stayed until about three days ago. That’s right, I didn’t actually sit down and hash out what I wanted to say until the last minute; big surprise.
So, I’m sitting there with my pen and my paper and found myself experiencing something very foreign. Those of you who know me well and probably those of you that don’t know me quite as well, know that I rarely struggle for words. I never seem to have a problem figuring out something to say. I have my father to thank for this quality. We Murray’s like to talk.
Anyway, there I was with a blank sheet of paper and feelings of slight panic kicking in. In an effort to get somewhere, I began to write down the obvious. What is home?
Well, I live in an apartment on 42nd and 11th, and every day I go home after class. So, therefore my apartment is home. But, I’ll be moving out in a couple of months so then this apartment # 26 will no longer be my home. So where else? My parents house, of course. When I need to do my laundry, my parents so graciously allow me to come home to do it, for free. But, after having not lived in my parents house for about 2 years now, and having to sleep in the guest room when I stay the night, I realized that I no longer get that same sense of home that I used to from being at my parents house. So, with my apartment not really being my home and my parent’s house not really being my home, where does that leave me?
After semi freaking out about not really having a physical place I consider home, but never considering myself homeless in any sense, I began to think about what it feels like to be “home”.
Home is where I can kick my shoes off, where I can sing in the shower, where I can have a complete cooking disaster and have it be okay. Home is where I can tell stupid jokes and be the only one to laugh. Home is where I can cry, where I can ribbon dance, where I can be extremely frustrated and still find some sort of relief. Home is where I can make mistakes, admit to them, and not be judged. Home is where I can be completely comfortable being myself, a place where I can go to unwind, a place where I can be alone, a space I can share with others. Home is a sense of security.
And then it kind of hit me. Well it actually pretty much blind-sided me to be honest. I realized that the only consistent thing that gives me a sense of security, the place where I can be myself has been in my faith. Home to me doesn’t come in the shape of a house, an apartment, a school, and unfortunately for some of our brothers and sisters, a car, a street corner, a shelter, etc. Home, for me, comes in the form of a little God shaped box that I believe every single one of us has inside. I know it sounds kind of corny and oversimplified, but I couldn’t have said it any better.
You know that little kids toy that is a box and it has different shapes cut out of its sides and then has same shaped pieces to fit through these slots? And of course, only the triangle can fit through the triangle slot and the circle through the circle slot? We can just imagine how frustrating it was when the triangle just won’t fit through the circle slot? The star just won’t go through the square slot and no matter how hard you try the box will stay empty.
I think of this God shaped box in the same way. The only thing that can sufficiently fill this God shaped box is God. Not a pastor, not a parent, not a best friend, not a boyfriend, not work, not school, not food, not alcohol, not anything. And just as the toy stays empty when you try to put the octagon through the diamond slot, so does the person, or at least this person (me), when you try to fill the God shaped box with something else. Although I can’t take credit for the creation of this concept of the God shaped box, it definitely rings true for me in my life.
So, I guess all of this is to say that home for me is anywhere I want it to be; anywhere I need it to be. It is everywhere I find my God shaped box to be filled; I take it with me where ever I go. I definitely find that things are always easier to do in the comfort of your own home. And let me tell you, life is a lot easier to live knowing that know matter where I find myself going, or what I might be getting myself into, I can do it in the comfort of my own personal home. Home is knowing that the Father is within me.