Home

I remember in my ESL (English as a Second Language) classes years ago, that a discussion came up about the difference between "house" and "home". For my students it was a foreign concept to differentiate between the two. After a few minutes of pondering an easy English explanation, I drew two pictures on the white board. The first was of the typical Eastern European block apartment buildings. Underneath that picture, the word "house" was written in bold black letters. In the second picture, I drew a family of smiling stick figures. This was my explanation of home.

I know that my crude family drawing cannot possibly define the English word for home, but I wanted my students to see the difference between location and relationship. When Chip and I landed in Moldova a couple of weeks ago, home, and all the feelings that define it, filled my heart and mind to overflowing. We no longer have a house here. Our property now resides in America. Our physical things all belong to someone else, or have been shipped back to America months ago. The only ties that remain are the relationships that our family built. These relationships have survived separation, poor communication, and the occasional negligence that comes with being so far away. Home is so much more than family. Home is love.

Knowing that I can travel half-way around the world and still find home brings me a joy and peace that is virtually tangible. A house is a location, but a home travels with me wherever I go. It's so good to be home!