Home matters.

And not just because we need a roof over our heads, or someplace to go after work. Home isn't so much about a structure that protects us from the elements, but rather, about it's walls that offer us solace.

I love my home. It is my favorite place, in the whole, entire world, to be.

Don't get me wrong. I do love a vacation. Especially a tropical, all-inclusive one. Being that I live in the frozen North, there's really nothing quite like escaping for a week, to a sun warmed, palm tree laden beach, in the middle of winter. But in the few tropical get-aways I've been lucky enough to enjoy, my favorite part of each of them, has been coming home.

Home, you see, is my safe haven. It is an extension of who I am. While my home isn't perfect, it is perfectly suited to me and to my family. It's not about the square footage it boasts, or the furniture it houses, or even the lovely decor it's acquired over the years.

It's about how I dwell in it's embrace; about how my family dwells in it's embrace. Our home serves us well. In the almost 25 years of married life and child rearing, our home has always been a source of refuge for us. It has been, and will continue to be, a safe place for us to grow and learn; a secure shelter where we've been able to make mistakes, and to learn from them.

In our home we are allowed to be vulnerable. We can let our guard down without fear of judgement as we are protected here, from sometimes critical, outside views. In our home, we are free to live and be and do the things that incite joy and promote growth in our relationship with one another.

Home is where we are at our best. It is where we feel most secure in who we are. But home is also where we're at our worst. And I'm okay with that. Actually, I'm more than okay with that. I love that our home is safe, and soft, and comfortable enough, for us to be able to let go of our composure sometimes; to allow us to experience a little turbulence in a protected environment. Sometimes life is hard and it hurts. Home has always been our soft place to land.

Home is an escape from the chaos. We live in a world riddled with commitments and responsibilities, and home, in it's beautiful simplicity, offers us a place to slow down; to pull away from the clutches of busyness, and to slip into an atmosphere of restful content.

Home is where we unwind; where we recover; where we recuperate. It is where we reconnect with our loved ones and with our Creator. In the welcoming embrace of home, we are able to restore our emptied vessels, and allow them to be filled with a peace that rejuvenates our souls.

Home is where we thrive. It is where we love. It is where we grieve. It is where we hope and believe, laugh and cry. Home is where we are our truest selves, and it accepts us in all of that.

Home, really is an experience. It is where we learn to identify, and truly appreciate the important things; the important moments in life. It is where we begin to understand that the seemingly unimportant moments are not unimportant at all. Home evokes in us, an attitude; a feeling of well being. My home has provided a warm, inviting space for me, and for those I love, to dwell.

And most importantly, it has afforded me the space and the capacity to make room in my heart, for Love to dwell. Love after all, is what really makes this house, a home.

My home is a blessing I am truly thankful for and I do not take it for granted. It has housed most of my tears and my laughter, it knows of my hopes and my dreams, and it's walls have heard all of my prayers.

It is my sanctuary; a comfort and a security, and I am so very appreciative of everything it offers.

I am grateful for home.

Much love,

Melinda

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