Home

           I haven’t blogged for quite some time now, which some of you have noticed.  As odd as it is for me to be accountable to a community like this one, I am grateful for the kind thoughts and wishes those of you who have been mourning my lack of writing have expressed.  It’s weird to have a following—small though it may be!

            As I mentioned in my first post, blogging does not come naturally to me, and that’s part of the reason I’ve been distant.  The larger reason though, is my hesitance to be publicly vulnerable.  I have been struggling since my last blog—not with safety or the garden or my housemates, or any of the normal YAV things it is assumed we volunteers struggle with.  I have been struggling with the idea of my future.

            I know this sound ridiculous; that I should focus on the present and the many gifts I have right now.  I live in an amazing city that is perpetually unfolding its awesomeness to me.  Every time I venture out of my house, I meet a new friendly person, or get to experience yet another humble and overwhelmingly delicious restaurant, or learn about some new festival on the horizon that is celebrating some obscure and worthy venture—facial hair, merlitons (aka chayote squash), gumbo, voodoo, music, BBQ, Po’boys—the list goes on and on and on.  My housemates, even when they are frustrating, are a delight.  My every encounter with them allows me to further explore who they are and what they love, as well as learn more about who I am and what I love. 

            And yet…I constantly worry.  Not about tomorrow, or the day after that.  Not about the many plans and events I have been instituting for my job here; those will fall into place and I will worry about them when their time comes.  I am worried about what on earth I will do when this year is over.  And what is manifesting this fear is that I want to go home when my time in New Orleans is finished, and I don’t know where home is anymore.

            Perhaps it is my undue obsession with my age, or perhaps it is just exhaustion, but I feel a need to finally settle.  However, I don’t have a clue where I should seek sustenance for the roots I long to put down.   Thus, I have been trying to define what “home” means for me, and here is what I have come up with: 

• Home is where I have space that is mine—space to furnish and share and grow a garden and keep a dog.
• Home is where I have a sense of community—friends, family, and neighbors—people that help me stay grounded and who lovingly challenge me to grow.
• Home is where I can explore a fulfilling vocation. 
• Home is where I have a meaningful relationship with a church.  Where I am known and can know others in the family of Christ, and where I can experience the Glory of God in both silence, as well as through thought provoking sermons, classes, and study groups. 
• Home is where I have a sense of place—where I value and honor the land around me as much as the people who live on that land. 

            Of all the areas I have lived, only two come close to encompassing this definition, yet both are lacking on some level.  I know that the onus is on me to discover some locale that fulfills all these needs, but I am so weary from searching!  And while I have been excitedly considering grad-schools and seminaries, I am keenly aware that those would still be temporary homes in temporary communities. 

           

            How does a person go about finding their place?   Is it serendipitous or does one turn to past experiences for comfort?  Is it a conscious choice?  How do adults establish community in our modern world?  And how do they sustain it when their communities are ever shifting?  Does anyone actually have the luxury of a sense of place anymore?  Is this even a realistic expectation?     

            As I write this, I feel self-conscious and pathetic.  I have a blessed seven more months to resolve these issues, so why let them weigh on my heart now?  But if I am to be honest in this odd blogging experiment, if I am to be REAL, then I must acknowledge how overwhelmed I am by feeling that I do not belong anywhere and how desperate I am to belong somewhere.