Home

Home is where the heart is.  Home is where the Mom is.  Home is where you go when you are sick and tired of being nice.

While reading tonight's post, please click on the video and let it play.  Read the post.  Then listen to the song again and really listen to the lyrics.

As I've blogged about before and those of you who know me, there was a period of time in 2008 (90 days was the period of time--90 days exactly) in which I was homeless.  The term is homeless, but the truth is--I was also houseless. 

There are many sayings about what home is, as the first line of this post indicates.  The last one is a quote that my parents have had on their fridge since I was in high school.  Unfortunately, it is a sad truth.  We behave worse at home than anywhere else.  Anyone with children can attest to the fact that their children do just that.  But even as adults, we do the same.  We treat people at home worse than we would ever treat any others.  Not because we dislike those people--but for some reason, we decide to take liberties and treat them less than others--even though they mean more to us than any others.

Back to 2008--the devastating floods came through--my house was nailed--and I lived in the spare bedroom of my good friends Mike and Amy.  At the time, I really wasn't that bothered by it--we made out okay when our house got hit--we didn't lose too much, and we were renters so we weren't dealing with the responsibility of fixing a house.  When we finally got settled into the VERY upscale "Waverly Mobile Home Park" after those 90 days and some drama from a stupid wench at work, the reality hit:  I WAS HOMELESS.  I had spent 90 days in a borrowed location.  I had lived out of a laundry basket with 5 outfits.  And I just witnessed and lived through the 2nd largest natural disaster in recorded US history (Katrina was 1st, of course).

But there is a difference between a house and a home. 

A house is 4 walls and a roof.  I had lost one of those--though I was in a temporary one now. 

And for me--a home is an internal place of contentedness.  Feeling rooted.  Feeling strong.  Feeling loved and a sense of belonging.

Being houseless sucks--don't get me wrong--sofa surfing and hoping people will take you in (Thanks Michael George & Amy---and Amy "Red") is an exhausting plight to endure. 

Being homeless is devastating.  Looking inside you and feeling empty, even though you are surrounded by a plethora of people and "stuff."  Being asked simple questions and all you can answer is "I don't know" because you feel incapable of making a decision.  Feeling absolutely no sense of control as your world is whirling around you in an emotional tornado. 

I've been called controlling a million times--and more so recently.  The irony is--I have been feeling absolutely no control.  And in hindsight, I haven't felt it in a while.  Or "in a minute," as they say in the hood.

Listen to the song again--the lyrics are amazing.  A good friend of mine introduced me to it in college and it became a regular theme song for me.  When I'm down, as I have been lately, I play it to remind me that when my home is empty--or messy--

Take me-make me what you want me to be, that's all I'm asking, all I'm asking.

Welcome to this heart of mine, buried under prideful vines. 
Grown to hide the mess I've made inside of me, come decorate, Lord.
And walk open up the creaking door and walk upon the dusty floor.
Scrape away the guilty stains until no sin or shame remain.
Spread your love upon the walls and occupy the empty halls until the man I am has faded, no more doors are barricaded.

Come inside this heart of mine--its not my own--make it home.
Come and take this heart and make it all your own.
Welcome home. 

Take a seat, pull up a chair.  Forgive me for the disrepair.
Souvenirs from floor to ceiling, gathered all my search for meaning. 
Every closet's filled with clutter, messes yet to be discovered.
I'm overwhelmed, I understand I can't make this place all that you can.

Come  inside this heart of mine--its not my own--make it home.
Come and take this heart and make it all your own.
Welcome....

I took this space that you placed in me.  Redecorated in shades of green.
And I made sure every door stayed locked, every window blocked--and still you knocked.

Come inside this heart of mine--its not my own...

Come inside this heart of mine--its not my own--make it home.
Come and take this heart and make it all your own.
Welcome home....

I am working on finding my way back home again.

XO, La