Sunday, 15 February 2009


In church on Sunday, Jim preached on the Parable of the Lost Son. I haven't heard the tape yet, so I'm not too sure what he actually said, (I was out with my young people) but on Sunday evening someone was talking about the two things that we learn about are the need for both a father figure, and a home. For me, both things have very negative/positive connotations that come to mind. But it was the latter of these two things that struck a chord with me on Sunday.

I've spent a lot of time on my own recently, probably beyond that which is normally healthy for me, but I've been thinking of a lot of things, and I guess that time has allowed me to process some things in my head that probably needed processing. In all this, I've definately recognised that I have changed. Normally the thought of spending an afternoon alone is actually frightening to me. But these last few weeks, I've craved that time alone, riding buses and walking and just sitting on a bench somewhere listening to music and carelessly watching the world pass me by. Its been awesome.

Amongst all my thinking, I realised that I may never return to live in the place that up until now, I have been calling my home. The house where my mum lives, where so many of my childhood memories and nightmares have been contained, where most of the junk I've acquired in my life is, it's not actually my home anymore. But the scariest part is, I don't know where it is. I seem to have lost it, somewhere along the way; misplaced it, or left it somewhere.

Recently, I bought a new film, Garden State. If you haven't seen it, seriously, go get it. I'd heard someone rant about it ages ago, but never really paid attention. Anyways, I've watching it a few times in the last few days, and each time I sat, knees tucked up under my chin as I sat on the floor in front of the TV, crying. The second of two things that have really changed for me since Training Week. I now cry... all the flipping time! At first I just thought it was an emotional thing, then I thought it might be hormonal, now it's just getting ridiculous. I'm not a cryer. I'm not even an emotional kind of person, I would say. It takes a lot for me to be open about how I'm really feeling. But recently, I've just been bleurgh. That's how I would describe it. Bleuuuuurgh.

Anyways, there is this section of the film where the main character Andrew (played by Zach Braff) talks about his idea of home with his semi-girlfriend Sam and he says this:

Andrew : "Do you remember that point in your life when you realise that the house you grew up in isn't really your home anymore? All of a sudden, even though you have a place where you can put all your stuff, that idea of home is gone."
Sam : "I feel like home at my house"
Andrew: "You'll see when you move out. It just happens one day - it's gone. And it's like, you can never get it back. It's like you feel homesick for a place that doesn't even exist. Maybe its like this rite of passage, you know, you won't get that feeling again until you create this new idea of home for yourself, you know, for your kids, for the family you start, it's like a cycle."

And watching this, it made me realise how 'home' isn't really a place that you can go to. It's a feeling. A feeling of being completely accepted, and being completely safe. It may be that at your house, you feel at home. I don't. I just feel like I'm living in a house, and that's where I happen to be this year. Maybe it's because I've moved 5 times in the last two years, maybe it's because so much has changed, for so many people, since I moved away from "home", I don't know. All I've realised is that being here, no matter how much I enjoy spending time with my Mum and brother, and being in a familiar surrounding, it's not home for me anymore.

But every now and again, when in the company of somebody that I trust and feel able to be myself with, (and yes, now there are a good few more of those poeple around) I get the odd flickering, familiar sensation of being safe and secure. That warm, appearingly perfect emotion that everything is okay. Even when it's not. But for that moment, for the time when you are surrounded by love and acceptance, it's there. I don't get it that often. But it is there, every now and again. And that's enough. For now.
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