Where The Heart Is

I have a few things to say.

First of all, love alone is credible. Truly. Tell me when you remember counting anything as worth that didn't involve deep love.

Secondly, where you give love is where you will find yourself home. I miss, oh how I miss, the places I have travelled that have become "like home" to me. Mainly, Gaming, Austria and Dandann, Haiti. Why, though? Why is it that I am so intoxicated with these memories, so inebriated with the desire to be on that soil once again? Why can I be so sure that if my feet where only back on those trails I would know more about life? Sometimes it's as if they hold the keys to the knowledge I've sought all my life. What makes them so illustrious in my head and heart?

It is because in both of these places, I have laid down my life in a truly unique way. I have given up my will, my desires, my needs, time and again, for those around me. In Gaming, I spent a semester unlearning much of the pride and selfishness that I still carried as your "typical American teenager." I spent four months coming to a point where I meant, with all I was, the commitment of my life to God. I spent four months undoing myself that I could be remade. I prayed until I heard God's voice. I sat in silence and waited. I travelled far and wide. I sought him. I was a hunter, and I did not give up. I knew my soul needed more, and I was tireless until I possessed it. I suffered, was lonely, felt unwanted and misunderstood. These were only part of the trade for coming to see the face of God as I had never known before. I waited in that chapel day after day to allow him to penetrate through all my smoke and defenses, all my excuses and safeties. He did. He always triumphs. It can be the worst waiting for him to show up, but that light always breaks through, and the darkness is always scattered. His victories are sweet, and worth all the anticipation. So I know why my heart knows it is home there. It has bled there. It has died there. It has been reborn there. It is a womb for it as my mother's was for me. Within the bounds of that town, those mountains, that church, I grew richly. I developed senses for truth, beauty and goodness. I had the mud rubbed in my eyes so that what was washed clean was brand new, and able to see so much more clearly.

In Haiti, in just a few short days, I found much of the same transforming spirit at work on my heart. The sacrifices of one friend for another, of a sister to her family, of a "stand-in" mother for the orphans. Putting band aids on blisters, passing sunscreen to those who needed it, giving out granola bars and cliff bars and candy and toys. Moving to the job you wanted to do least, because someone else wants to do yours more. Giving your friend the better paintbrush, the less-smelly kid, the non-oozing diaper, the better piece of bread. Being silent when you want to talk so that others can. Being happy when others are sad even if you want to go hide in a corner too. Picking the child who wants to be held up, even when your arms just can't hold any more babies. Sitting through another sweaty night when you just wanted to feel clean for a few hours. Laughing when you fall off horses, when you have blisters in places you didn't know were possible, when you can't hold any food in you for the life of you, when you're deathly afraid of spiders and they seem to gravitate to your cot. Praising others when you feel so in need of appreciation. Loving others when you just want someone to hold you instead. Seeing past your own neediness, which is real, because your friend's neediness is more real. Wanting to shout to the world that your feet HURT and then spending the time listening to them share how their blisters are killing them instead. Feeling like you can't take another minute of noise and then smiling as little children's hands are all over your skirt and their voices are filling your ears. Wondering if you have the strength to keep standing sometimes, and then somehow being so rejuvenated because you picked up a child and kissed them.

This is exactly why these places are home. This is why any of our literal homes remain places we yearn for in our hearts. It is our families, those we have laid down our lives for, whom we have loved profusely and unconditionally, that make our "home" for us. This is why friends become like-family, and why places like Gaming and Dandann create the atmosphere of home for us that is perhaps more tangible than when we walk into our parent's homes.

They say "home is where the heart is." I say, "the heart is where your home is, and the home is where you have given the most love." Home is where you have served. Home is where you have died. Home is where you have surrendered and sacrificed and discovered all the joy and excitement you hoped for. Home is where you have truly lived.