Home?

this world is where i breathe,

let it never be called home

-jon foreman

"Home is where the heart is," so they say. What is home, really? Is it just an idea, a fleeting feeling that we've all come to recognize as this four-letter word? I guess.

Home has always meant where my family is. I find myself jealous of those who have lived in a single house for their whole lives. To be able to go back and recall memories. The tree where they broke their arm...the faint crayon markings on the walls... I have none of that. It would be nearly impossible for me to recall memories from a physical instigator. Our family has moved on time and time again and others have moved in, making their own memories for however many years. All of my memories must be stowed away somewhere in me to be taken

out on a rainy day. Perhaps this is why I get so freakishly meticulous when I journal.

Now, when I think of home I have to admit (with a deep breath) that this is home. Here, where I am now...this is home. Take that however you will. I see it that God has me where He wants me, for whatever purpose I am to fulfill. If this is where I am called to be, then this is my home.

That took a lot to admit.

I haven't been feeling homesick so far this semester. It's not that I don't miss my family (loosely defined) or being in the Middle East, because I do. It's that I no longer feel an ache in me. It's hard to describe if you haven't experienced it.

I spent the better part of last year being bitter and wallowing in self-pity because I was back in the States and all the relationships I had formed in the year before and less were being violently pulled away from me, filled with an ocean, a continent, and a 14-hour flight. You wouldn't've been able to tell unless I showed you. I'm good at ignoring my emotions, that is until they become over-bearing, and then I burst.

Now, I'm good. Maybe because the last thing I could call home is now gone. Or maybe I'm just maturing in some way. Whatever it is, I'm learning how to be okay with where I am. It's not an easy process, but since when are things ever easy?

Over the weekend, I went down to Liberty University with some friends for a concert. It is a huge Christian college down in southern Virginia. Since I started college applications about three years ago, I've been toying with the idea of getting a "Christian-based education" (whatever that actually means). I almost seriously considered the idea of transferring sometime over the summer. Not to Liberty, but somewhere. I am glad I was able to say almost just there.

Being down on Liberty's campus really confirmed that I am supposed to be here at American. It just felt foreign, and for me - the girl who feels at home in airports - to say something feels foreign is sayin' somethin'.

All of this is just a long-winded way of saying what I said at the beginning of this, that God has me where He wants me and that's all I need to know to be happy.