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It's been almost a week since coming back from my trip back to Canada. It's been a really interesting reflection for me. From anticipation to going back "home" to see snow, to excitement to returning "home" to my bed, I realize I've been reflecting on this idea of "home" for more than a year now.
My last post about "home" was on Feb 26, 2007. Almost a year now. But in between I reflected deeply about home during my Pre-Field Orientation conference in June, my devotional sharing at school in October, and throughout November and December as I have been watching my co-workers decorate their homes elaborately with Christmas decorations and trimmings.
As much as I feel like our apartment is "home" I know Ray and I haven't made much effort to decorate it like "our home". Most of the furniture is placed exactly as our Landlords had placed them when we first arrived. We've moved a couple of beds, added a desk, and filled up the bookshelves but for the most part we haven't done that much to the apartment.
But does that make your "home" a "home"? In December I would have leaned more towards yes, but now I'm back to "not sure" again.
Yesterday I invited my co-workers to our home for a dumpling party and as I was tidying up our apartment, and placing things back to where I wanted them, I realized that I have a rhythm and a system in the house. It's how Ray & I (but mainly me because I'm obsessive compulsive about cleaning) are used to things around the house.
So, all this to say, I'm still reflecting about what "home" means. It's such a broad topic don't you think? I've struggled with a sense of identity my whole life (am I Chinese, Canadian, both, or neither?) why not add "home" to my list of confusions! :)
3 comments:
that's funny. had a similar post like yours - i've been struggling with where my "home" is now as well and from what some people, like you have said, i guess it happens to many of us.
One of my good friends in Niger used to give me a hard time about not really putting anything on my walls. My excuse was that it wasn't easy because they were cement. But it's almost like that process is the one that says, "hey, I'm going to stay here for a while and make this home." I didn't even realize I was living with a mentality that this was a non-permanent situation until she pointed it out. The question of "home" can definitely be a tricky one.
I think we all struggle with this issue. It is interesting to look back and try to decide when your parent's home ceased to be " home". Was it when you moved in permanently with your spouse.
I think this issue was most vivid for me when we were struglling with my mom's Alzheimer's in her last year. Whenever I would take her out she would want to go home to see "him"( my dad).Often tho when she home where she had lived for 40 years she would ask us to take her home to see her "people" I just knew she meant the little house in B.C. where she lived as a child. It made us sad to know she was longing for somewhere that no longer existed. It reminds me of "My Grandfather's Journey" by Allan Say
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