Home - Reflections

Kirkland home

 "Your bags are checked through to Seattle," said the Southwest agent. Momentarily I thought, "Wait, I'm going home. They should be checked through to Columbus." For most of my life Columbus was my "home" airport. 

I had just finished two weeks of conferences, meetings, and family visits in Salt Lake City. I met many people, most of whom asked where I was from. Columbus didn't slip past my mind to my lips at all but it still flitted through my head as I said, "Seattle area."

After almost a year in Kirkland, "the Seattle area" or Kirkland, depending on who's asking, is almost automatic when people ask where home is. But the transition to the correct verbal response is not totally complete. Our Kirkland townhome feels like home. We love our new community and we are glad we made the move. We are happy. 

My reaction to the ticket agent's comment got me to thinking about home. Home is where Joe is. Home is associated with loved ones more than a house. 

Oak Street - childhood home

Not every house is a home. Oak Street was certainly home - as long as Mom and Dad were there. My college dorms and the first places John and I rented in didn't feel like homes. They were temporary. Harvest Street and then North Street were certainly home. 

Many years ago we had a family reunion in London. With Dad accompanying us, we took our children and grandchildren through the elementary school attended by Dad, his brothers, and the four Holton children. We sat on the front steps of the school and looked across the street at the house that was Dad's home for his entire childhood. I asked Dad about special feelings he had for the house. I was surprised when Dad indicated he didn't have any special feelings. At the time I thought this was just Dad being Dad - not expressing his emotions. 

North Street - home for 34 years

Now I understand the feeling - I can drive by my childhood home on Oak Street and it's just a house because the people I love no longer live there. The house will always have many memories associated with it but the place is no longer larger than life in my mind or life.

When I was back in Worthington a few months ago, I drove by our North Street house. Sweet memories flooded my mind, but there weren't any feelings of loss or regret. We've moved on. We are now establishing our home in Kirkland. 

As these thoughts have gone through my head and heart the last few weeks, I've also thought about the trip "home" to Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ. That's our real home. We're here on earth for a visit, an adventure, and learning opportunities. Eventually we'll all go home. 

Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting: 

The Soul that rises with us, our life's Star,

Hath had elsewhere its setting, 

And cometh from afar:

Not in entire forgetfulness, 

And not in utter nakedness, 

But trailing clouds of glory do we come

From God, who is our home+

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+"Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood," William Wordsworth; The Oxford Book of English Verse: 1250-1900; http://www.bartleby.com/101/536.html; accessed February 21, 2012