Home

"... where my thoughts escape me,
home --
where my music's playin',
home --
where my love lies waitin' silently for me..."
- Simon & Garfunkel "Homeward Bound"

One week ago, I moved my queen bed into its third apartment since I bought it in August 2003. Here are my long-promised thoughts about that thing called "home."


A friend of mine lives in the same town as all her family, has lived in that town her whole life, and was recently shocked when she thought of Atlanta as home rather than longing for Virginia.
Throughout college, my friends got homesick, missing their native climate, their local snacks, their best friend since the second grade.

The idea of home is different for me.

I went to five schools before graduating high school. My parents moved three times while I was in college. For 14 of my 27 years I had no extended family in the state where I lived.
My grandmother's house in Gainesville, FL has been the most consistent place in my life. When people ask me where I'm from, I say I don't have one of those. With both parents United Methodist ministers, we moved every few years, and each usually had two churches. That's a lot of churches.

I don't say all of that in a "woe is me" fashion. I wouldn't change any of it. Except for the people who were mean to my parents... I'd erase that. (Be nice to your minister!)


Here are a few results of my parsonage-hopping childhood:

I have had to call my parents to get directions to our house. That is a funny thing to do.

On a Sunday morning, I can walk into a United Methodist church and feel at home. I felt more at home in Wesley's City Road Chapel in London or in Epworth UMC at Candler Park here in Atlanta than I would if I were to return to a house I lived in as a child.

Home is a feeling for me, not a location.

I take a lot of pictures, because I'll never see some friends again. And that's okay. But it doesn't mean that I wasn't changed by them or that I don't remember them.

I both love and hate moving. I love going new places and trying new things, getting acclimated to a new environment -- a fresh start. But I hate boxes. I hate carrying my stuff to a truck and driving it somewhere else. I hate regretting that I have held onto certain things, and having to decide which momentos are less significant. If only I were a minimalist...

I am not afraid to go somewhere new. I've lived in small farm towns, state capitols, unincorporated communities, and small cities. I've lived in five states, each of which has a distinct and dynamic personality. If I get somewhere and it sucks, I've learned that it will probably get better, but if not it is just temporary anyway.


I came to Candler for lots of reasons: to gain a deeper grasp on theology in general, to focus on social justice, to live in Atlanta -- a deeply historic yet modern and exciting city...
But mostly I think I came here because I already knew people here. Several of my college friends live in Atlanta, and a couple are associated with Candler. Also, two of my US-2 classmates are here.
I've never started a new phase of my life with a pre-established support system (outside my family).

Regardless of the reasons I came, I am glad I am here.
Candler feels like home.
Atlanta feels like home, at least for now...